#I’m still not caught up but when I caught up to that point I was like wow. this moment is wild. nothing can top it.

[moonriizing]

urs | p.sh (18+)

You weren't supposed to want more, but you did. What started as a casual fling became more complicated when you found yourself caught between your desire and the reality that Park Sunghoon's heart belonged to someone else.

Genre: college au, situationship, smut Pairing: Park Sunghoon x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), NOT PROOFREAD. I'll come back to do that when I can lol. Notes: 10k words. Listening to urs by NIKI. My first Sunghoon fic and it's written on a whim! lol. I wrote this instead of working on my overdue wip lol. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

You first met Park Sunghoon at a frat party you had no real interest in attending. It was the first night of the semester, the music was good, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was exactly what you needed. It was the kind of night that made you feel young and invincible, where bad decisions were just part of the fun. And tonight, you were on a mission: hook up with a hot guy.

It was a promiscuous mission, you knew that. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t that kind of girl because you were! But you weren’t the reckless, messy type. No, you were the smart kind of promiscuous. The kind who could have fun without losing control. You were practical about it—always sober enough to make sound decisions, always keeping your boundaries clear. Simply put, you were the best type of promiscuous.

As a college girl with ambitions, you couldn’t afford to get tangled in romance and all that commitment nonsense. Too much work. But you had needs, and fulfilling them meant nights like this—scanning the crowd for a guy who could tickle your fancy, no strings attached.

That was how you spotted him.

Tall, handsome, but oddly out of place. While the rest of the party thrived on the chaos, he stood by himself in a corner. He had a cup in his hand, but it wasn’t like he was enjoying it. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else—his posture slouched just enough to suggest he wasn’t a part of this. He had that bored, almost irritable look on his face, the kind that made you wonder if he was only here because someone dragged him along.

You were not the type to hesitate, so you didn’t. You’d done this enough times to know exactly what you were after, and right now? You were after him.

“Is this your first frat party, or are you just too cool for it?” you asked, leaning in just enough to get his attention.

He glanced at you, his eyes flicking over your face for a second before landing on your lips, then back up to your eyes. Up close, he was even more good-looking—long lashes, sharp features, lips that curled just slightly at the corners like he was already amused by you, and a couple of beauty marks on his face that made him even more striking.

He was definitely your type.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you added, taking a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact.

“That obvious?” he asked, his voice low, almost melodic.

You smirked, liking the way his voice was as perfect as his looks. “You look miserable,” you pointed out, still grinning.

He chuckled lightly, amused but not exactly thrilled. “What about you? Having fun?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t. But right now, I think I might be…” You let your gaze wander, deliberately slow, from his face to the exposed skin of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

Sunghoon smirked, his gaze trailing over you in a way that was appreciative without being too obvious. “Well, that makes two of us,” he replied suggestively.

He flirted right back!

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. You took it and gave him your name.

Your eyes locked with his—now more curious, sizing him up. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you staring each other down, trying to gauge each other’s thoughts with your hands still joined. Then you saw a flicker in his eyes that made you come to an agreement with your own intuition.

You tilted your head, eyes still locked with his. “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

His eyes widened slightly, his brows lifting in surprise—visibly caught off guard by your suggestion. His grip on your hand loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You kept your gaze steady, showing no hesitation and letting him know you were serious. A few seconds of silence passed where you almost thought he’d say no, but then he exhaled a soft laugh.

“Are you always this forward?” he asked, amused now.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Only when I see someone I like.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you like me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

With that, his smirk widened, and before you could second-guess yourself, he set his cup down. “My place or yours?”

And just like that, you were out of the party and heading to whatever the hell came next. No strings, no pressure. Just the way you liked it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when the tsunami that would come crashing in began to take shape.

You didn’t mean for it to happen again. It was supposed to be a one-time thing—fun, uncomplicated. But he was phenomenal, so it happened a second time. And a third. And eventually, you just lost count.

Maybe it was because, other than the fact that he was really good at it, he was also easy to be around. He wasn’t like the others—the ones who got clingy after a night or acted like they were doing you a favor by sleeping with you. Sunghoon was different. He never overstayed his welcome, never asked for more than you were willing to give, but he wasn’t distant either. If anything, he was… nice.

Not in a fake, trying-too-hard way. Just nice. Made you feel comfortable, always made sure you finished before he did, and never left without saying something witty that made you roll your eyes. He had this way of being detached but not cold, like he had mastered the art of keeping things casual without being an asshole.

“You know,” you mused, sprawled across his bed, still catching your breath, “my first impression of you was that you were boring and miserable. Turns out you know how to make a girl have fun.”

Standing by his closet, Sunghoon threw you an amused glance as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “Yeah? I aim to please.”

You smirked. “That sounds like something a guy who thinks he’s good in bed would say.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you, looking almost too put-together for someone who had just spent an hour between your legs. “And? Am I not?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You’re alright.”

He scoffed, tossing a pillow at you, which you barely dodged. “You’re a bad liar.”

You grinned, stretching lazily. “Well, I can’t have you getting a big head, can I?”

Sunghoon shook his head, his lips curling into that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Too late for that.”

It was easy. Too easy. Maybe that’s why you let it keep happening.

Behind closed doors, there was no restraint. It didn’t matter if it was your place or his—once the door was closed, your hands were on his neck, his lips found your skin, and clothes barely made it past the foyer before being discarded.

Sunghoon was incredible in bed. He was controlled, precise, yet somehow still desperate when he kissed you, when he pressed you against the mattress, when he groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. And you? You had mastered the art of making him unravel.

You knew exactly what made him weak, how to turn his composure into incoherence, how to make him grip your waist a little harder or breathe your name in a way that made your stomach flip. It was exhilarating, effortless—two people who just fit perfectly when it came to this.

But outside? You were mere acquaintances.

A nod in the hallway. A fleeting smile across the quad. If you happened to pass each other at a party, he’d tip his cup in your direction, and you’d lift a brow in acknowledgment. No one knew. No one suspected a thing. And you liked it better that way. You were both civil and could control your urges.

Except for when you couldn’t.

Like now.

You were leaving class when Sunghoon caught your wrist, pulling you into an empty lecture hall.

“What—”

He kissed you before you could finish, his hands already gripping your hips, pressing you against the nearest desk. The kiss was hot, urgent, like he had been holding back all day.

“Wow, I think you missed me a little,” you teased when he finally pulled away, breathless.

Sunghoon scoffed, but his fingers traced the sleeve of your dress like he wasn’t done with you yet. “You should wear this more often.”

You smirked. “What? Hoon, you did not pull me in here just because I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s a really nice dress,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck. His hand slipped under your dress, squeezing your thighs firmly. When the familiar warmth started creeping up your chest, you held his hand to stop him.

“This is not a good idea,” you told him, smiling at the puppy-like look on his face.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he regretted his own impulse. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then you heard the sound of voices just outside the door.

In an instant, Sunghoon stepped back, running a hand through his hair like nothing had happened. You casually adjusted your dress. When the door creaked open, and a couple of students poked their heads in, you and Sunghoon were already on opposite sides of the room.

“Is this Professor Smith’s class?” one of them asked just as you spotted the same name written on the board in front.

“It is,” you said smoothly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you strode past Sunghoon without so much as a glance.

Outside, in the open air, you felt his presence behind you, his steps easy and unhurried. As you reached the main path to the quad, he finally passed you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly.

“See you around,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You smirked, not looking back. “See you around.”

But even with all of that, you could tell he was drawing a line between you. He didn’t have to say it. You could see it in the way he never texted first, the way he kissed you like he meant it but pulled away too quickly after. The way he made you laugh but never let the moment linger too long.

And maybe you should have done the same.

You didn’t mean to fall for him. You really didn’t. But it was hard not to when, in between the sneaking around and the mind-blowing sex, Sunghoon was just... Sunghoon. Nice and thoughtful in a way that made it almost impossible to keep things casual.

Like when the lightbulb in your room went out, and he arrived at your place with a new one, climbed on a chair, and replaced it himself.

“I was gonna do that, you know,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall, watching him screw the new bulb into place. “I’m just a little busy these days.”

He climbed down, dusting his hands off. “Yeah, but can you even reach that high?”

You rolled your eyes, but when he patted your head like you were some kid, you didn’t swat his hand away. Instead, you found yourself watching him as he moved around your space so easily.

Or the way he always refilled your bedside tumbler before he left your place. You didn’t even notice it at first, but one morning, you woke up, throat dry, and reached for it instinctively—only to realize it was full. Ice-cold. Like he had just topped it off before slipping out.

And then there was the night you were cramming for an exam, drowning in highlighter ink and frustration, when your door swung open, and Sunghoon walked in like he owned the place.

“I’m about to become your favorite person in the world,” he announced, dropping a thick stack of papers on your desk.

You blinked up at him. “What is this?”

“My old notes,” he said, ruffling your hair before plopping onto your bed like he had all the time in the world. “They’re neat. Better than whatever middle school doodles you have going on.”

You flipped through them, and he wasn’t lying—his notes were immaculate. Organized, highlighted, complete with diagrams. You stared at them, then at him, sprawled out on your bed like he had no idea what he’d just done.

“You didn’t strike me as a guy who took his studies seriously,” you teased, although you didn’t really think that way about him.

Sunghoon smirked, turning his head to look at you. “Why? Did you think the only thing I knew how to do was make your legs shake?”

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t stop the warmth creeping up your chest. “Be real, Hoon. You’re not that good.”

“Liar liar, pants on fire,” he lilted, his eyes shifting back to his phone.

You fell for him because hookups weren’t supposed to be this thoughtful. Hookups weren’t supposed to linger after sex to fix your lightbulb or make sure you stayed hydrated. They weren’t supposed to look after you in ways so small, so casual, that you almost missed them.

You caught yourself wondering. Did he care about you more than just a hookup? Or worse—did you want him to?

You were at a café with your friends when his name came up. 

It started casually enough—half-listening to the conversation while stirring the melting ice in your drink, until one of them, Lily, suddenly said, “Oh, by the way, I saw Sunghoon at your apartment complex the other day. Didn’t know you guys were neighbors.”

Your hand stilled, heartbeat picking up pace at the sudden mention of his name. You blinked once, twice, before mustering up an easy shrug. “Huh. Neither did I.”

Lily laughed, oblivious. “Right? He was coming out of your building. I was gonna say hi, but he looked like he was in a hurry.”

Across the table, Tammy tilted her head. “Maybe he was visiting someone? From what I know, he lives with Jake in a different neighborhood.”

“Maybe,” Lily mused, sipping her drink. Then, as if the thought just occurred to her, she added, “Oh! You and Jenna are neighbors, right?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know any Jenna.”

“Jenna! The girl who won the poll for prettiest student last year!” she explained, her expression turning conspiratorial. “She’s Sunghoon’s ex.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

Lily went on, oblivious. “Guess he’s still hoping she’ll take him back.”

The words landed like a slap. You almost asked her to repeat herself, but the way Tammy nodded in understanding told you that you heard right.

“Yeah,” Tammy said. “They were together for two years. I heard he was really sad when they broke up.”

Lily clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did get back together. They were that couple, you know?”

That couple. The ones who belonged together. The ones who had history, real history—not just stolen moments behind closed doors.

You swallowed, forcing a small smirk. “Didn’t know you guys were keeping up with Sunghoon’s love life like this.”

Lily nodded. “Jenna and I used to hang out when I was still in the council.”

Then she started rambling about their history, how Jenna broke Sunghoon’s heart, how he never really moved on. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but your mind was stuck on every moment you spent with him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, how he never let you walk home alone, the way he looked at you sometimes—like maybe you were something more special to him.

But you weren’t. You weren’t the one he wanted. You never were. And just like that, the guessing game was over.

He didn’t want you like you wanted him. You were genuinely just a fling.

Still, you smiled, made some joke that had your friends laughing, and sipped your drink like nothing was wrong. Like your stomach hadn’t just dropped to the floor.

Later, when you saw Sunghoon again—when he let himself into your apartment with that lazy smirk, hands already reaching for you—you didn’t hesitate. You let him touch you, let him kiss you like nothing had changed.

Because for him, nothing had.

And if he didn’t know the difference or couldn’t see the shift, then you sure as hell weren’t going to show him.

Does it make sense to want your ex back and exclusively sleep with someone else? NO.

It was stupid. Sunghoon was stupid. That was what you told yourself every time the thought crossed your mind—every time you caught yourself comparing.

You never voiced it out loud, though. Not to your friends, because Sunghoon was popular, and they’d pry if they knew you were sleeping with him. Not to him, for obvious reasons. And mainly because you had pride. You were the one who said you wouldn’t get attached—the one who laughed at girls who caught feelings for a fling.

But knowing better didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.

His ex was his senior, a fine arts major. Pretty. Smart. Talented. One of those girls who just had it. The kind people didn’t get over easily. You told yourself it didn’t matter. If he wanted her back, that was his problem, not yours. It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon were anything.

And so the days with him continued to be easy and light.

You spent more time together, and the more you did, the more you noticed his quirks—his own brand of annoying charm. Like how he always picked up your keys instead of his whenever he left your apartment, or how he liked to roll his sleeves and ruffle his hair absentmindedly.

One evening, lying side by side on your bed, you scrolled through your texts, absentmindedly opening your chat with him. A dozen images filled the screen, almost all of them mirror selfies. Some in elevators, some in his room, one even in a convenience store.

“You like yourself a little too much, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your phone so he could see.

Sunghoon barely glanced at it. “What?”

“These,” you said, scrolling through. “Almost every picture you send me is just you.”

He smirked, resting his head on his arm. “What, you don’t like them?”

You huffed. “You’re hot and you know it, is that it?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. The glint in his eyes was naughty and suggestive. His next words, even more so: “Would you rather I send you something else?”

He was looking at you like he knew exactly what he was doing, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“Maybe,” you said, feigning deep thought. “Like a cat picture. Or, I don’t know, an interesting rock.”

Sunghoon snorted. “An interesting rock?”

“I like rocks.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re a narcissist.”

He only grinned, as if he didn’t mind the label. You shook your head, rolling onto your stomach, but your lips twitched when your phone vibrated a second later.

A picture. Of a rock.

You bit back a smile, and Sunghoon, watching you, caught it anyway.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing,” you said, tossing your phone aside.

You had never once felt insecure about what you had with Sunghoon, but after what you heard from your friends, you started to notice the little things. It almost seemed like outside the four walls of your apartments, you were nothing to each other.

You used to think he was just a lazy texter. His replies were always short, sometimes delayed, sometimes just emojis. But knowing what you knew now, you wondered if he just wasn’t interested enough.

The thought crept under your skin, making you overthink the things you once brushed off.

Before, when you texted him to come over and he said he couldn’t, you didn’t think much of it. But now? Now, you wondered if he was with her when he wasn’t with you. If he looked at his phone, saw your message, and made a choice.

Yet, you kept crawling back for more.

You were an intelligent woman. You knew this was foolish. You knew how it made you look. But it was fine, because no one else knew how you felt—not your friends, not even Sunghoon himself. It was fine because you were foolish only in your own eyes. There was no need for anyone else to know.

Despite the foolishness of it all, you were happy. You were content enough to be able to spend time with him, to be touched and worshipped by him, to know you had the power to tease out a part of him that not everyone had the privilege to see.

“Sunghoon,” you sighed, fingers pressed against your temple as you looked out of the car window. “We’ve been circling this block for ten minutes.”

You had tagged along with Sunghoon on a quick trip to pick up some pieces for his department’s upcoming art exhibit. It was unplanned. You were outside the campus after class when he spotted you and asked if you wanted to join him. Since you didn’t have anything planned for the day (and because you could never say no to a chance to hang out with him), you got into his car and let him drive without even asking where you were going.

But Sunghoon, as it turned out, had a terrible sense of direction.

“I swear it was supposed to be around here,” he muttered, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping aimlessly at his phone.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

He shot you a glance, sheepish. “Well, I meant it twenty minutes ago.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs. The map app on his dashboard kept recalculating, rerouting him to roads that either didn’t exist or led straight to nowhere. And when he finally admitted defeat, pulling over to rethink his next move, you both stepped out and realized something.

The ocean was right there.

Waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm but not overbearing—the kind of day that practically begged to be wasted at the beach.

“…Screw the errand?” you offered.

Sunghoon stared at the water for a moment before shrugging. “Screw the errand.”

And just like that, the detour became the destination.

The day unfolded spontaneously. You bought overpriced street food from a vendor by the shore, eating as you walked, laughing when Sunghoon scrunched his nose at the spicy kick of the sauce. He had an annoyingly specific taste in food and the smell, but he still let you shove a piece of yours into his mouth.

You found a little souvenir stand and tried on ridiculous sunglasses, taking pictures of each other in frames shaped like hearts and palm trees. Sunghoon snapped candid shots of you when you weren’t looking, and though you pretended to be annoyed, you never asked him to stop.

At some point, the tide crept in, and you played a round of rock, paper, scissors and dared the loser to get into the water. You weren’t even surprised when you lost. You sucked at this game.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you grumbled, kicking your sandals off. “By myself, no less.”

“Hey, it’s a game. We both agreed to this,” he retorted, stepping back. “And I can’t go in there. I’m wearing jeans.”

“And I’m wearing a skirt,” you countered, already wading in, your hem darkening as the waves reached you.

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, probably wondering if you were actually sulking over a punishment you’d happily agreed to before you lost the game. Of course, you weren’t, but it was fun to tease him and see what he’d do.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said after the scowl never left your face. In a moment of impulsive surrender, he walked straight in after you, the water soaking up his pants. You’re actually unbelievable,” he added, shaking his head as the chill hit him.

You grinned triumphantly, making him brush his hair back in playful exasperation. Then, shaking his head in defeat, he said, “I knew it. It was a farce. You knew I was gonna give in!”

“You fell for it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t blame me,” you added, flicking water at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you, unimpressed, before flicking some back with just the tips of his fingers.

“Oh, come on,” you taunted. “Is that the best you can do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly—just enough of a warning before he sent a full splash your way, drenching your arms. You gasped, stumbling back with a laugh.

“Oh? So that’s how it’s gonna be?” you shot back, scooping up water with both hands and throwing it right at his chest.

He retaliated, sending another wave toward you, and suddenly it was war. One splash turned into another, then another, until you were both breathless, clothes sticking to your skin, hair a mess.

Sunghoon pushed his dripping bangs back with a huff. “This is your fault,” he said, smiling his usual warm and blinding smile—the smile that made his eyes crinkle, the smile that revealed dimples carving deep into his cheeks, the smile that could make anyone think Sunghoon had never forced a grin in his life.

He was beautiful, and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper, with no way out. You were falling so deep that it made your heart ache a little—the way you liked him, the way you wanted him to be yours, the way you wished today could last forever.

As the sky started to turn amber, you collapsed onto the sand, watching the sun lower itself into the horizon.

The waves rolled in, steady and endless, curling at the shore. The air smelled of salt, and the golden glow of the sunset painted the world majestically. You sat side by side, talking and laughing about random things, content to share the warmth of a single jacket.

Then, somewhere between the soothing sound of the waves and the silly jokes, the conversation drifted deeper.

You talked about things you never had before—about college, about dreams and ambitions, about the way people always say you’ll just know when something is right.

“How do you know for sure that that’s what you wanted to pursue?” he asked while you were tracing idle patterns in the sand. “What if you think you know, but when you get to the end of it, you realize it was the wrong choice?”

You looked out into the ocean, tilting your head slightly, considering. “I didn’t really know it was the right choice. I don’t think anyone ever really knows,” you admitted. “Not in the moment, at least. Maybe you just choose something, and later, that choice becomes the right one.”

You turned to look at him only to find out he already had his eyes on you. The admiration in his gaze was subtle, but it was there. Seeing that made your heart trip over itself, it made you forget, for just a second, that this wasn’t real.

And when he leaned in, when his eyes flickered to your lips and your breath caught, you stopped thinking. You knew what was coming. You knew he was about to kiss you, but somehow, for some reason, this time felt different. Like this kiss was gonna determine a major point in your relationship.

But before anything could happen, Sunghoon’s phone rang, jolting you both out of the trance. You both looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat like you’d caught yourself doing something you shouldn’t. Which was ridiculous because you’d done nothing but kiss him in the past few months.

Sunghoon cleared his throat as he picked up his phone on the sand then answered the call with a quiet, “Yeah?”

It was the committee for the exhibit and you watched him talk on the phone for the next few minutes, explaining what had happened and why he couldn’t finish the errand. By the time he hung up, the sky had darkened completely, and the air had turned crisp.

“It’s late,” he said, brushing sand off his hands. “You okay with crashing at my place?”

You blinked. “Your place?”

“Our old family house. It’s not far from here.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. “Sure.”

The car ride was quiet, thick with the tension that had been ignited by the near-kiss at the beach. Neither of you spoke, but your gazes met every now and then—quick glances, fleeting and heated, before darting away like you hadn’t been caught.

Sunghoon was the first to break. His hand drifted from the wheel, finding your thigh in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He squeezed, testing, and when you didn’t stop him, he grew bolder, pushing the hem of your dress up just enough to feel the warmth of your skin. His fingers traced your skin with slow, deliberate strokes, inching higher into your inner thighs and lightly brushing your sex.

The heat of his touch burned through you. While you sat there feeling hotter as your heartbeat hammered wildly in your chest, he remained composed and quiet, his face unreadable save for the occasional twitch of his jaw. He kept his eyes on the road, but the way the car gradually picked up speed as he stepped harder on the gas told you everything you needed to know.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until the car rolled to a stop in their driveway. He exhaled sharply, as if regaining control of himself before stepping out and opening the door for you like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

The lock to their house’s main entrance clicked, the door creaked open, and the second you stepped inside, all restraints snapped.

You barely had a moment to take in the house before his hands were on you, pulling you in, mouths crashing in a kiss that was desperate, needy, and greedy. He backed you into the foyer, hands mapping the curve of your waist, and the shape of your hips.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling, tugging, holding on for dear life as the heat of his touch woke something primal in you. He barely broke the kiss as he guided you further inside, not caring where you ended up as long as you got there together. You went past the foyer and the living room, but all you felt was the press of his body, the way he kissed you with the kind of hunger that made your head spin.

He pushed a door open, urging you inside but you hesitated, pulse hammering.

“Sunghoon,” you breathed between kisses, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Your parents—”

“They’re not home.” His voice was low, steady, but his eyes burned through yours.

You barely had a second to process before he kissed you again, silencing every last doubt as he pushed you inside the door he had just opened. When he clicked the lights on, the glow of a bathroom light flickered on, reflecting off the tiles and the mirror above the sink.

“Figured you’d hate the taste of the sea on my skin,” he murmured, grinning as his fingers grazed your hip. You were suddenly reminded of the saltwater clinging to your skin, and the sand on your legs, remnants of the day you’d spent together.

You swallowed, nodding. But the moment he lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, you knew washing up wasn’t gonna be the only thing happening in here. 

You shamelessly ogled him—his bare skin, damp from sweat and seawater, and his lean build with well-defined muscles that you’d seen several times before but still found alluring. He caught you staring and smirked, stepping closer, close enough that his fingers found the buttons of your top.

“Did you know I’m good with buttons?” he asked softly, making you giggle.

“Yeah. I’ve seen your skills,” you said, watching him.

His fingers were deft, undoing your buttons slowly, teasingly. When he was done, he gently tugged it off, letting it fall on the floor. His hands didn’t leave you, though. They skimmed down your arms, and your waist, examining every curve like he had it memorized and wanted to see if anything was different.

The next thing you knew, warm water was cascading over your bodies, steam enveloping you in the small space. The spray soaked your hair, trailing down your spine, but you barely noticed because Sunghoon was there—his hands smoothing over your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder, your jaw, his canines grazing your skin ever so slightly.

“We’re supposed to be washing up,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

“We are,” he murmured, his fingers sliding down your stomach, inching lower. “Just making sure we’re doing it thoroughly.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but it faded into a sigh when he pressed you back against the cool tiles, his mouth finding yours again. He didn’t stay for long, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, all the way to your chest where his kisses turned a little more intense. He sucked and squeezed, sending a pleasant ripple through your body that made you arch forward for more. The water drowned out the sound of your quiet moans, the warmth of his mouth making every touch feel more heady, more intoxicating.

When did he take off his pants? You didn’t even notice until he pressed his body against yours and you felt his manhood pulsating against your torso, hot and raging. He kissed your lips again, shoving his tongue inside as his breathing turned rougher.

“Turn around,” he rasped in your ear, and you obliged, finding yourself face-to-face with your own reflection.

You pressed your hands against the glass, your entire body tingling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck as you felt his tip prodding your pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, biting your ear. “Do you have any idea how you drive me crazy all the damn time?”

You were about to respond when he pushed himself inside you, making you let out a throaty gasp instead. Sunghoon stayed still, shushing you gently and kissing your shoulder.

“It’s alright. We’ve done this before,” he chimed and you could see him smirking in your reflection. 

“You’re used to this, right?” he asked, moving delicately so you could properly adjust to his length and girth. “Right, baby?” he asked again, and the lilt in his voice made you close your eyes and nod.

“That’s right. You said you love it, didn’t you?” 

You could only let out a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “Yes, Hoon. I love it,” you whispered back.

“Good. I know you do,” he chimed, gently bending you forward. “I know you’ll love this too,” he added before his hands settled on your waist and he started thrusting into you.

His pace was urgent, with enough force to make your knees weak each time he slammed into you. You didn’t even bother to stifle your moans anymore, letting them out completely, not caring if there were neighbors nearby who might hear you. You were lightheaded with lust, spiraling into the titillating euphoria that Sunghoon never once failed to deliver. Your entire being came alive and you were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice your knees buckling underneath your weight.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he helped keep you up, pulling out to give you a quick break and to turn you face-to-face with him again. His grin was unmistakable, pleased to see your fucked-out expression. “So so beautiful,” he said, sweeping your hair out of your face.

He pressed you against the cool tiles, his lips crashing onto yours, urgency overtaking everything else. You gasped when his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you against him. The water poured over his shoulders, down your back, as he moved with reckless need, his breath ragged against your ear. 

“More, Hoon. Please, more,” you pleaded, as if he wasn’t already ramming mercilessly into you making every nerve in your body dance in pleasure.

“You’re so horny for me,” he murmured against your lips, his fingers gripping your thighs as he lifted you against him. “Can’t even wait till we got to the bed, huh?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed into you, the heat of the shower only amplifying the sensation. “This was your idea,” you whispered, but it came out shaky, wrecked.

He chuckled, low and deep. “I know. But you want this too, don’t you?” he said, voice smooth as his lips traced down your throat. “You want me so bad. You’re begging me for more, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t answer—not in words, at least. But when you tightened your grip around his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, he took it as confirmation.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

You whimpered when he hit a delicious spot, holding onto him tighter. “Hoon, you fuck so good.”

He grunted, spurred on by your admission. He was fast, desperate—like he couldn’t get enough, like he had to claim every inch of you right then and there. When he finally tipped over the edge, dragging you down with him, he held you through it, his lips pressing on your temple as your body trembled in his arms.

The moment was fleeting, but the desire didn’t leave just yet. You could still feel it in his touch even as he set you back on your feet. The moment you stepped out of the shower, Sunghoon grabbed a towel, barely bothering to dry you properly before he lifted you off your feet, carrying you out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and into what you only assumed was his bedroom.

This time, there was no rush.

He laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin, his touch softer now, more reverent. “Look at you,” he murmured, eyes tracing over every inch of you, dark with something more than just lust. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

Your breath came uneven as he leaned down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, lower—each one dragging a gasp from your lips.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your skin.

“You,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?” He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Then take me,” he added, just before he filled you up again.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent, or desperate. It was slow, deep, and overwhelming in the most delightful way. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breath warm against your face, whispering in between kisses.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” he murmured, moving languidly. “You feel so good. You’re taking me so well.”

Every whispered praise sent shivers down your spine, made you cling to him even tighter, and made the pleasure build until it was unbearable.

The night was young and it was not gonna end just yet. And so the hours blurred into moments of euphoric highs, fleeting clarity, and intense need to ravage and be ravaged. His name was the only thing you could say—over and over—until you were both left breathless, tangled together in the sheets, completely undone.

In the morning, you probably wouldn’t remember every detail of tonight, but you’d remember this—remember the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. In the dim glow of Sunghoon’s bedroom, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, lips swollen from too many kisses, you let yourself forget. Forget the rules. Forget that this was never supposed to feel like more. Just for tonight, he was yours, and you were his.

The morning light streamed in through the sheer curtains, hurting your eyes a little. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented, until the scent of Sunghoon’s shampoo on your skin and the warmth of the bed beneath you reminded you where you were.

You turned over to find him already awake, his arm tucked behind his head as he looked at you with a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

His fingers skimmed down your arm. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

A slow blink. Then, a scoff. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his gaze flickered down to your lips. “You drool a little, though.”

You smacked his arm. “I do not.”

His laughter was low and teasing, as he caught your wrist then tugged you closer. His body was warm against yours, and his breath was even warmer as he kissed the curve of your neck.

“We should get up,” you said, but neither of you moved.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his soft kisses trailing down to your shoulder. “In a bit,” he added before reaching to cup your cheek and kiss your lips.

One thing led to another and suddenly, you were underneath him again, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The morning air was cool, but his hands were warm as they skimmed down your waist, his touch slow, and smooth. 

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured against your lips, smiling when you shivered under him.

“So are you,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Guess we’re even, then.”

His hands slid over your bare skin, his touch reverent. He kissed you deeply, guiding you through the lazy tangle of limbs and soft gasps, dragging it out like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you finally got out of bed, Sunghoon had already dug through his closet, tossing you an old hoodie and some sweatpants. You pulled them on and followed him down the quiet hallway.

The house felt still—too still. Only then did you notice the dust gathering on the bookshelves, the faint scent of time in the air.

“This place has been empty for a while now,” Sunghoon said casually from behind you when he noticed you looking around. “My family moved a few months ago to take care of my grandparents.”

Your brows lifted. “So no one lives here?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I come by sometimes. I technically still live here, I'm just not here often.”

That made sense. There was something about the house—it felt untouched, frozen in time, like stepping into a memory. You walked further into the hall, your fingers grazing along the walls and stopping at the framed photographs hanging there.

You studied them, tilting your head. Sunghoon as a kid, bright-eyed and grinning, a missing tooth on full display. A younger version of him on a skating rink, mid-game, frozen in motion. Another picture—him and his family, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, and several of him in a skating rink, different poses, taken in the middle of a routine.

“You skate?”

Sunghoon smiled, standing beside you and looking up at the photos. “Used to. I was in the national team for a while.”

“Why did you stop?” you asked glancing up at him and seeing the reminiscent look on his face.

He simply shrugged. “I had to be realistic. I enjoyed the sport but I couldn’t see myself doing it for a long time.”

You bit back a smile. “You were kind of adorable.”

Sunghoon scoffed, stepping up behind you. “I still am.”

“Debatable.”

He tugged at your hoodie—his hoodie—pulling the hood over your head before nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

The drive back to the city was uneventful, the radio playing softly in the background. Sunghoon’s hand rested on the wheel, his other lazily draped over your thigh, tracing absentminded patterns through the fabric of his sweatpants that you were still wearing. You were talking, laughing, stealing quick glances at him between songs on the stereo.

At some point, he cleared his throat. “So… what are you doing later?”

“I have a group project.” You groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I’m meeting up with my classmates later.”

“Right. Group project.” He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Sounds boring.”

“It is,” you huffed. “Why’d you ask?”

“No reason.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but you caught the way his grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. A second passed before he spoke again, this time even more nonchalant. “What about tomorrow?”

You tilted your head. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Just classes, I think.” You turned to him, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Do you wanna grab lunch with me tomorrow?”

You stared at him for a moment, then grinned teasingly. “Are you asking me out on a date, Park Sunghoon?”

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink, but he scoffed like the idea was ridiculous. “I’m just saying we should get lunch.”

“Mmm.” You pretended to think. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date.”

You scoffed in playful exasperation. “Dude, I was naked on top of you last night and a couple of other nights before. Surely we’re way past shy invitations for lunch dates?”

“I’m asking you to eat.” He paused, then added with a tilt of his head, “But if you wanna call it a date, that’s fine too. Labels are overrated.”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hm. I guess I’ll allow it.”

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. It’s settled then,” he said, stopping at a red light.

He leaned over to kiss you, catching you off guard but only for a moment. You kissed him back, albeit a little confused. When he pulled away, he was wearing a proud smirk on his face and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, shifting the gear as the light turned green again. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to his lips.

One hour later, you reached your apartment complex, but had to you stay a few more minutes in his car because he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, kissing and touching right there in the parking lot. You had to forcefully push him away and remind him that you had classes and important stuff to attend to. Even then, he was reluctant to let you go.

After a dramatic goodbye that had him pouting as he drove away, you climbed up the building with a sickening grin on your face. You unlocked your door, stepping inside with a lightness in your chest, breathing in the familiar smell of your home. 

The past few days had been a rollercoaster for you, with all the guessing and expectations and disappointments. But now, you were feeling much lighter, much happier. The good days with Sunghoon were all you could think of, playing back in flashes—the sound of his laugh in your space, the weight of his arm over your waist in the morning, the smell of his skin at night, the way he always left the bathroom mirror fogged up because he took ridiculously hot showers.

Tossing your bag onto the couch, you leaned against the door for a moment, smiling to yourself. Sunghoon was nice, but he always drew an invisible line. Not this time. You could tell by the way he held you this morning, the way he was reluctant to part from you, and how he’d asked to hang out with you for lunch—outside, in public. It felt like, for once, you both wanted the same thing. No second-guessing, no mixed signals—you were finally moving the same direction.

Your gaze drifted to the hoodie he’d left draped over the chair, his specs on your nightstand, and the half-empty tumbler beside it—subtle proofs that he’d started leaving pieces of himself behind. You wondered if he even realized it.

And more than that, you wondered where this would go next.

The next morning, you woke up too early. Way too early.

You groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your back as you stared at the ceiling. It was ridiculous. You’d seen Sunghoon plenty of times before—hung out, spent nights together, and shared more than just passing glances. But the idea of today, of a proper lunch date, had you wide awake before the sun was even fully up. Maybe it was because, for once, you weren’t just meeting up in the comfort of your apartment or his. It would be something different. Something real.

You giggled at the thought, covering your face with your blanket and then flailing your arms and legs. 

Admitting that to yourself felt embarrassing, so you dragged yourself out of bed and decided to be productive. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make the most of it.

A jog around the neighborhood. A quick stop at the store. And before you knew it, you were back in your apartment, unpacking groceries and deciding, on a whim, to actually cook breakfast. When was the last time you did that? You couldn’t even remember.

By the time you arrived on campus, you were still riding the high of a morning well-spent. Your good mood didn’t go unnoticed—your friends picked up on it immediately, teasing you about the extra bounce in your step. You brushed them off with the excuse of getting enough sleep, but they weren’t wrong. Everything just felt lighter today.

Even classes didn’t seem so unbearable. You participated. You took notes. You weren’t counting down the minutes to leave—well, not exactly. But the closer lunchtime got, the more restless you became, checking your phone every so often even though you knew you were the only one keeping track of time this obsessively.

Then, just as you were leaving your last morning class, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: Hey pretty. Something came up. I can’t do lunch today. I’m sorry. Sunghoon: I’ll make it up to you later tonight, okay?

Your steps slowed, but you kept moving, staring at the text longer than necessary.

Bummed. That was the best way to describe it. You weren’t mad—plans get canceled all the time, and at least he let you know ahead of time—but disappointment still settled in the pit of your stomach. You took a breath, shook it off, and responded with a simple, It’s fine. See you later.

Lunch with your friends helped a little. You laughed, caught up on random gossip, and even let them drag you to a café afterward. You weren’t dwelling on it. Really, you weren’t.

Until you stepped out of the café and saw him. Sunghoon, standing outside the campus gates. And he wasn’t alone. 

Jenna was with him.

You stopped in your tracks, heart lurching in a way you hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t just that he was there, but the way he was standing close to her, the way she was talking, nudging his arm like she had every right to be in his space.

Sunghoon must have felt someone staring at him because he glanced your way and saw you. His eyes brightened in recognition, and he greeted you casually, like nothing was out of the ordinary. But you didn’t even know how to react. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked past him, barely sparing a glance, pretending as if you weren’t close. As if he was just someone you barely knew.

Your friends who saw that were confused, following behind you after quick greetings to both Sunghoon and Jenna. 

Tammy caught up to you, nudged your arm, and asked, “Where are you running off to after ignoring Sunghoon like that?”

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone,” you muttered.

“You totally were,” Lily chimed in, linking arms with you as she leaned to speak in a quieter voice. “That’s so fishy. What’s going on?”

You didn’t respond, your mind too muddled to even try and come up with a good answer. As you rounded the corner, your phone buzzed a second later.

Sunghoon: Hey. What was that?

You ignored it, as well as the other messages that followed. 

The rest of the afternoon slipped through your fingers in a haze of self-pity. You curled up on the couch, aimlessly flipping through movies, but nothing got your attention. The voices blurred together, scenes passed without meaning. You weren’t devastated. You weren’t heartbroken. You were just... mad. Annoyed that after everything, after how good things had been, this was what it came down to. But getting worked up wouldn’t do anything. So, you forced yourself to let it go. 

Or at least, you tried. It was impossible when he kept creeping into your thoughts—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you just yesterday—like he wanted this as much as you did.

You didn’t even realize you had dozed off until the sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake.

You blinked against the glow of the screen. Sunghoon.

For a moment, you stared at his name, your heartbeat loud in the quiet of your apartment. You could ignore it. You could let it ring out and pretend you were still asleep. You could put an end to this charade, to tell him you were done and sick of it. But you didn’t.

You answered. His voice was gentle, cautious. “Can I come over?”

You should say no. You should end this here and now. Enough is enough. But… “Yeah. Of course,” you said, trying your best to sound normal.

Half an hour later, he was in your apartment, hands on you, lips on yours, familiar and desperate. And, as always, you let him in—physically, emotionally, despite knowing better. You let yourself believe that maybe, for just a little longer, this could be enough.

Afterward, you slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom to wash up. By the time you returned, the room was dark, the only source of light was coming from Sunghoon’s phone on the nightstand. He was already asleep, his breathing even, his body sprawled across your sheets like he belonged there.

You reached for the blanket to pull it over him when his phone buzzed, the screen glowing against the dim light. Your gaze flickered to it, drawn by instinct.

Jenna calling...

Your chest tightened at the name. For a moment, you just stood there, watching the name flash across the screen before it faded into darkness. You could answer it. You could see what she wanted, hear her voice, and confirm everything you had been trying so hard to ignore.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed into bed, curling up beside Sunghoon, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You knew what you had to do. Knew that when he woke up, this had to end for good.

But not yet.

For now, while he was still yours—warm, close, familiar—you let yourself have this one last moment. You closed your eyes and pretended everything was okay, even though you knew exactly what tomorrow would bring.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. The space beside you was cold. 

It was over.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. You had spent the night convincing yourself that you were ready for this, ready to end things, but the second you woke up to find him gone, the ache in your chest became unbearable.

Tears welled up before you could stop them. You curled into yourself, pressing your face against the pillow, sobbing into the fabric as if that could somehow muffle the sound. This wasn’t supposed to hurt. You weren’t supposed to grieve something that was never really yours. But you did.

You let yourself fall apart, mourning what could have been, whispering prayers into the silence that it didn’t have to end this way.

And then the door creaked open. You gasped, jolting up, eyes red and blurry as Sunghoon stepped into the room, holding your tumbler in his hand. 

His brows furrowed at the sight of you, eyes widening in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing to your side, setting the tumbler down before cupping your face and wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Hey—why are you crying?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you sobbed against him. He didn’t ask any more questions. He just held you, rubbing your back, shushing you gently even though he didn’t understand what had you so upset.

After a long moment, you finally managed to choke out, “I thought you were gone.”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, blinking at you in confusion. Then, to your utter annoyance, he started laughing.

“What do you mean, gone?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I literally just went to shower and get you some water.”

You smacked his arm, your face burning. “Don’t laugh at me, you jerk!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, though he was definitely still laughing.

Something about his amusement made you snap. Maybe it was the pent-up emotions, or maybe it was the fact that you had nothing left to lose—but suddenly, everything came spilling out.

You confessed it all.

How you weren’t supposed to catch feelings, but you did. How you tried to push them down, to ignore them, but they never really went away. How you had spent so long pretending to be fine with this casual arrangement, knowing deep down that you weren’t. How much it crushed you to think that he was trying to win Jenna back, how much it hurt when he canceled on you, and how stupid you felt for letting yourself get so attached.

Sunghoon stared at you, utterly dumbfounded.

You sniffled, swallowing back the last of your tears. “Well? Say something.”

And then, to your horror, he started laughing again.

Your stomach twisted. “Are you kidding me right now?”

But before you could shove him away, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Hard.

Your breath hitched, but you melted into it, gripping his shirt as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment all along. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. “I like you,” he admitted. “A lot.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. “You’re fun, you don’t take my shit, and you get me in a way that most people don’t. I’m always looking forward to seeing you. To hearing whatever sarcastic thing you were gonna say next. To just… being with you.”

“Then why—”

“I wasn’t with Jenna because of what you think.” His hands slid down to hold yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “There was an accident with the exhibit setup, and I had to be there. She just happened to walk out with me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And the part where you’re trying to get back with her?”

Sunghoon made a face. “Where did you even hear that?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “A mutual friend.”

He huffed. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know!” You did, but you weren’t about to admit that you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting too much from him—like you were demanding something that was never part of your deal.

Sunghoon sighed, squeezing your hands. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I only have eyes for you.” His lips quirked. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t realize how much I liked you at first, but ever since we started this, I haven’t thought about anyone else.”

Your heart stuttered.

Then he smirked. “I thought we had an understanding. Did we really need a label for it?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Right. Labels are overrated.”

Sunghoon kissed you deeply, and this time, you returned it with the same amount of sweet abandon. Then he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he murmured. “And right now, I’m wondering if you’d wanna be mine too.”

You let out a sharp breath, your chest tightening at his words. For a second, you just stared at him—his dark eyes searching yours, his expression completely open, completely vulnerable.

Then you scoffed, shaking your head with an exasperated laugh.

“For fuck's sake, Sunghoon.” You squeezed his hands, tugging him just a little closer. “I’m already yours.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could say anything else, stealing the last of your breath, and this time, you didn’t hold anything back.

[fin]

[siriuslylantsov]

be my valentine

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, spencer asks you out after a hearty but incomplete info dump on the history of valentines day.

tags: fluff! idiots inlove, gn!reader, reader is briefly described as shorter than spencer, teasing!spencer, grumpy!reader, penelope is an angel and i love her so much, reader shitting on valentines day and raising some very valid points.

a/n: based on this request, second fic for the event!! i know its still four days till valentines day but! if i didnt get this done now it would've been late. i rewrote this THREE times... but i rlly like how this version came out! happy reading :)

wc: 2.1k

it's your lunch break and you’re glaring at yet another sappy couple that walks by you. grumbling, you take another bite of your blueberry muffin. spencer laughs from his seat in front of you, amused by how your lip curls into an irritated pout. the two of you had walked to a cafe, a brief reprieve away from the frenzied police department you were stationed at for this week's case. 

“motherfuckers,” you seethe, still chewing your food. “i hate valentine's day.”

he laughs again, his tone sarcastic, “really, i never would’ve guessed.”

your glare shifts to him as you cross your arms. his grin is still there, annoyingly persistent, you hate that it doesn't affect him as much as it should. if you told him this, he would’ve told you that it didn't pack much of a punch. 

you roll your eyes and continue with a heavy scoff, “it's just another fake holiday, you know. like mother's day. created by greeting card companies trying to commercialise a day that shouldn't even exist honestly. every day should be dedicated to showing your loved ones how much you care, not just 24 hours in the middle of february.”

he accepts your cynicism with a smirk, completely accustomed to it. he knows you don’t mean it, not entirely, you just like to rant. “you know valentines day actually goes back about 2000 years. i’m sure greeting card companies weren't around back then,” he corrects, biting his lip in suppression.

your eyes narrow into slits, feeling the faint shift in the air of an incoming info dump. you ignore the way you want to hear what he has to say and take a sip of your coffee instead. you stall to torture him a bit, it's funny how he squirms.

“really,” you drag out, stroking your chin in exaggerated contemplation. you stare at him knowingly, he wants to continue but he's waiting for you to give him the green light. you laugh quietly, mood already improved, “go on.”

spencer visibly brightens, sitting up straighter and hands springing into action. “well, valentine's day has a really fascinating and somewhat convoluted history,” he starts, almost giddily. “the earliest accepted theory can be traced back to the roman festival of lupercalia, which was celebrated from february 13th to 15th. it was a fertility festival dedicated to faunus, the roman god of agriculture, and it included a ritual where men would sacrifice a goat and a dog, then use strips of the goat’s hide to whip women-”

“wait, they used goat skin to whip women?” you interject, eyes widening incredulously.

“yes! they willingly lined up for it too, believing it would make them more fertile,” he explains, far too animated considering the context, but it's okay. you like his enthusiasm. 

you grimace, “weird.”

“right. however, the day of love that we now recognise was brought by st. valentine, though which valentine is unclear—there were at least three martyred saints by that name. the most famous story involves a priest in third-century rome who defied emperor claudius ii's orders by secretly performing marriages for young soldiers,” he pauses to take a breath. you use it to bring your coffee back up to your lips, hiding your smile.

“claudius believed single men made better warriors, so he banned them from marrying,” he clarifies to which you nod. “when valentine was caught, he was executed on february 14th, which is why he’s the namesake of the holiday. some versions of the story even say that he sent a letter to his jailer's daughter signed ‘from your valentine’ which could be the origin of the modern tradition.”

“huh,” you pick your lip in thought, spencer hides the way his eyes dart down to them as you do it. “but that’s still an execution, how did it-”

the shrill tone of your ringtone interrupts you. “mhm, okay,” you respond when you pick up the phone. “we’ll be right there.” 

spencer stares at you expectantly, reaching over to grab your bag. he secures it over his shoulder and stands up. 

“it was jj,” you explain, stuffing the last bits of muffin into your mouth. “wi’ness ‘howed up.”

the food-muffled words make him chuckle and hold out a hand for you to get up. you let him pull you up with a dramatic huff, still holding his hand as you dust crumbs from your lap. you realise it a little too late and let go with a start, frown returning when you realise he isn’t going to let you carry your bag.

the walk back only took about five minutes before but this time's slower pace makes it a longer ordeal. comfortable silence brackets the two of you until it doesn’t when spencer speaks up.

“so, there's actually a lot more to the history of valentine's day. for instance, how the day became one of romance instead of, as you said, one that marked a martyrdom. we could, i don't know, discuss this properly over dinner. or drinks? or ice cream, i know that you like ice cream-”

filler words... he’s nervous. amid his rambling, he doesn't realise that you’ve stopped in your tracks. 

“-we can do whatever you want, i don't mind.” when he looks beside him and doesn't find you, he turns around. he can scarcely read the expression on your face, he usually can. this causes a little bout of concern to bubble up, “what is it?”

“are you asking me out?” your question is immediate, blunt, as a confused crease forms between your eyebrows.

well shit, he was. his lips part as he processes what he just said, he looks a little like a deer in headlights the way he stares back at you. was that too much? are you mad? did you want him to ask you out? what if you say no? he should say something. what if he messes everything up? he can’t-

“spencer,” his name rings out softly, pulling him from his spiral. 

his eyes snap to yours, searching, desperate to read between the lines, to piece together what you’re thinking like he always does—except this time, he can’t. he squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again, “yes.”

he swallows hard and adds, “on a date.”

“i got that,” you murmur, stepping closer to him, and closing the distance that he unintentionally left.

his head dips, voice small. “i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

your head tilts slightly, studying him. “you didn’t.”

the reassurance eases him a little but not enough as the anxiety claws at him while he waits for your answer. your phone sounds again from your pocket, this time a text from morgan. you quickly type out a response–got lost, be there in 2. it's a pathetic excuse, if you focused, the station was in your direct eye line. but you needed to say something. 

“okay.”

he can't help the sign of relief that slips out of him, you giggle at the sound. when he looks at you again, he's unmeasurably happy to see your poorly concealed smile, breaking out in his own matching one. 

“yeah?” he asks sheepishly.

you nod, chewing your bottom lip, “yeah.”

your eyes squint at the corners, a side effect of the same grin that those sappy couples had been sporting, the same one that you’d been complaining about a little while ago. it makes you want to kick yourself, so you do the next best thing. you take hold of spencer's hand and drag yourself back to the pd. spencer shuffles somewhat behind you, trying to keep up with your stride. it doesn't take him long with those long legs of his.

his thumb strokes your knuckles gently–deliberately, you feel–but he pretends it's an unconscious action with the way his eyes are trained ahead. it makes you roll your eyes. when you near, you reluctantly let go of each other, the moment being the last time the two of you are alone for the rest of the day.

-

the team ends up solving the case a few hours later, taking the jet home where a valentines day baking spread is set up in the briefing room. all set up by the resident tech savvy. penelope tells you later that it took a whole week of convincing on her part, insisting that it would be quick and she’d clean up, and that everyone would get home to their own valentine's day plans in no time. 

there are a few heart-shaped helium balloons floating in the corners, and pink streamers in easy to reach places. the room is drastically more inviting, maybe the tones of fuschia and bubblegum have something to do with that. a cake and a bowl of suspiciously dyed punch reside on the table, along with pink plates and cups.

“penelope,” you gasp when you see them.

perfectly curated baskets of chocolate and cookies and associated items for everyone. you pick up the one with your name on it and inside you find: a candle, your favourite candy tied together with a little bow and a letter signed ‘happy valentines day, sweetheart. love, penny xx’. 

oh my god, you could kiss her. 

“it's like christmas,” emily muses from the other end of the table. you hear jj mutter something in agreement. you peek over at spencer, it's probably the hundredth time that you've snuck a glance his way. his eyes were already on you every other time, only now they were accompanied by a pair of red heart-shaped glasses, the clear plastic lenses offering a perfect view of his hazel orbs. the picture makes you laugh to yourself, you can barely hear it echoing from his end. 

-

about 30 minutes later, only the stragglers are left. in better words, the single people. the individuals with partners having rushed off to their own respective plans. you're making small talk with another girl who worked around the office when you feel a light hand on your shoulder, spencer nodding his head toward the elevator to signal your leave. you politely wish her goodbye and walk out with him. 

“cute glasses,” you tease, bumping his shoulder with yours, though the height difference makes it so you're nudging his upper arm. 

“yeah? i might get the lenses medicated, switch them out for my regular ones,” he jokes, his elbow nudging yours gently as he pushes the bridge of the glasses up the slope of his nose instinctively. 

“good idea,” you nod.

“you think?”

“mhm.” 

once again, he beats you to your bag, swiping it from your chair and carrying it along with his own. you meekly toy with the hem of your shirt as the two of you walk to the elevator. 

“so, bummer that neither of us have plans today. it’s so early,” you say, being blatantly obvious with what you're suggesting.

spencer only offers you an indifferent “yeah, bummer” in response, walking in when the doors slide open. when you look at him though, he's anything but indifferent, the corner of his lip pulling up in a crooked smile, irritatingly smug. you don't know where he gets off on being so at ease but the expression on his face makes you scowl as you follow him in. 

he is silent the whole ride down. you become increasingly annoyed, only faltering slightly when his hand reaches down to hold yours. his fingers thread between yours and you not-so subtly curl yours over his, ignoring the way he looks down at you. 

you try not to smile at the domestic picture of the two of you walking out hand in hand. thankfully the basement is empty. he pauses between your cars and mutters a quick “see you monday” before loosening his fingers and turning to walk away.

“spencer,” you groan, almost a whine as you squeeze his hand before he can let go.

he responds immediately, without missing a beat, “yes, angel.”

fuck.

you want to melt but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “would you like to do something tonight?” you grit out begrudgingly.

“i would love to,” he agrees, pulling you closer with your hand. your gaze darts to the two bag straps on his shoulder and you realise he had no intention of letting you go just like that. so you shove him, a little hard that he stumbles a bit. he huffs a laugh and you shake your head dismissively. 

he slowly, tentatively, dips down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“how does thai food sound?” he asks, that same bashfulness creeping into his voice that you love so dearly. 

“sounds perfect.”

you share another sweet smile that would probably make you gag from an outside perspective but now it just makes you feel dizzy. he leads you back to his car, muttering something about how he’ll pick yours up tomorrow morning. you want to argue with him but that same dizzy feeling stops you.

you can't help the dreamy sigh that slips out when he connects your hands again over the centre console. thank god for st. valentine, you think.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

divider from @saradika-graphics

[ducktoo]

Cheeky

IVE’s An Yujin x M!Reader

Note: Thank u @mintwithchoco for the prompt! It was fun to write this! (I might have post it a bit early but It's a bit too fluff to rot in the jail-

Hope yall got enough dose of lethal Yujin. Here’s a cutie Yujin for yall

(Can this woman not make me blush every single time-)

You have heard many opinions about An Yujin through her online exposure. Gorgeous yet strict, a natural professional and one of the most popular idols in the business.

So when you got hired as a personal bodyguard to IVE, you knew you had to be in your best behaviour. You were expecting a professional introduction. Maybe a polite handshake, a simple exchange of names, and a respectful nod—just like how it had been with every other client before.

But no. Instead, the first thing you got was laughter.

Loud, unabashed laughter.

You had barely stepped into the practice room, clad in your sharp black suit with an earpiece securely in place, when Yujin spun around mid-dance routine, caught sight of you, and nearly collapsed from laughing too hard.

"Oh my god, you look so serious!" She practically wheezed, hands on her knees.

You blinked, your professional composure wavering just slightly. That’s not the usual reaction.

"...Excuse me?"

She straightened up, still giggling, and gave you a once-over. "You're my new bodyguard, right? Wow, we’re the same age, but you look like you’re about to arrest me or something."

Yujin wiped at the corner of her eyes and grinned as she strolled up to you, radiating the kind of unbothered energy that made your brow twitch. Well this is…going to be a pain.

"Well at least I do look the part, no?" you asked, straightening your vest as you clear your throat . "I’m literally here to keep you safe."

"Oh, I’m very grateful." Yujin smirked, stepping closer with a mischievous glint in her eye. "But I was kinda hoping for someone... I don’t know, scarier? You look way too nice."

You stared at her, unimpressed. "I can be scary."

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."

You sighed and took a step forward, dropping your voice into a low, stern tone. "If you don't follow security protocol, I will personally make sure you regret it."

For a moment, Yujin's eyes widened, and you thought—just for a second���that she would actually take you seriously.

Then she grinned even wider.

“Ohhh,” she mused, stepping even closer, her face just inches from yours. “I like you already.”

You had a very bad feeling about this.

-

If you had known what was coming, you would’ve quit on the spot.

An Yujin, despite her public image of being a charming, responsible leader, was actually a menace.

If she wasn’t sneaking off to buy snacks at the nearby convenience stores without telling anyone, she was hiding behind doors just to jump-scare you. And the worst part? The other IVE members had joined in on it…but mostly Yujin.

"Come on, just one smile," Yujin teased one afternoon, poking your cheek while you stood guard by the van. "You've been with us for months, and I still haven't seen you laugh."

You exhaled through your nose. "My job is to protect you, not to entertain you."

"That’s so boring. How do you survive without fun?"

"By keeping a certain someone out of trouble." You shot her a pointed look.

Yujin gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Wow. Is that how you see me? Just a walking headache?"

You opened your mouth—because yes she was a giant headache to you—but she cut you off, suddenly leaning in way too close.

"What if I am your problem, huh?" she whispered, eyes glinting with playful challenge.

You held your ground, staring her down. "...Then I'll have to handle you accordingly, I suppose."

Instead of backing off, Yujin grinned wider. "I’d like to see you try."

Oh, she was insufferable. And unfortunately, you were stuck with her.

-

"You know," Yujin drawled, stretching across the couch in the waiting room like a cat in the sun. One arm hung off the side lazily, while the other rested behind her head, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "I think you like me more than you let on."

You sighed, already used to her antics. "What makes you think that?"

Her lips curled upward, slow and knowing, like she had already won whatever game she was playing. "Because I'm fun. And charming. And incredibly good-looking." She struck an exaggerated pose, tilting her chin up dramatically like some kind of historical monarch.

Across the room, Wonyoung groaned, rubbing her temples. "Unnie, please. Have some dignity."

"You don’t want me to tell the truth?" Yujin gasped, clutching her chest in mock devastation, her mouth slightly parted as if she had just been personally attacked.

"I don't want you to embarrass us in front of our bodyguard," Wonyoung corrected, glancing at you apologetically.

You just shook your head, lips pressing into a thin line. "I'm used to it."

Yujin’s eyes flickered with amusement, but instead of making another joke, her expression softened just slightly—like she had caught something in your tone that intrigued her. Then, just as quickly, the mischief returned. "See? That's basically an admission that you enjoy my company."

You gave her a deadpan look. "That is not what I said."

"Too late, I'm taking it as fact." She stretched her arms over her head, looking far too pleased with herself.

You exhaled through your nose, choosing to ignore her. If there was one thing you'd learned about An Yujin, it was that engaging with her nonsense only fuelled her further.

But despite all her teasing and the way she constantly pushed your buttons, there were moments when she reminded you why she was the leader of IVE.

Like now.

Liz sat in the corner of the room, staring down at her phone with her lips pressed into a tight line. She was fidgeting, her hands twisting together in her lap—a stark contrast to the usual easygoing energy she carried.

Yujin noticed instantly. Her playful expression melted away, replaced by something steadier. More grounded. She pushed herself off the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides before crouching beside Liz.

"Jiwonie," she called softly, nudging her knee against Liz’s. "What’s up?"

Liz hesitated before sighing. "I feel like I keep messing up my parts in the choreography."

Yujin tilted her head, studying her with an unreadable expression. Then, instead of immediately reassuring her, she took a moment. Just a beat of silence—enough to let Liz’s words settle before responding.

"You don’t," Yujin said firmly. "We practiced together, remember? You’re doing fine."

"But—"

"No buts." Yujin stood up, walked over, and slung an arm around Liz’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You know what I told you? The best performers aren’t the ones who get everything perfect all the time. They’re the ones who keep going no matter what."

Liz still looked uncertain, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "You really think so?"

"I know so." Yujin grinned. "Besides, if you mess up, I’ll just mess up too. That way, we’re both in trouble."

"That’s a terrible encouragement," you muttered.

Yujin turned her head slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, and the glint in her eyes was back. The glint. The one that usually meant trouble.

"It’s called leadership," Yujin shot back. "Ever heard of it?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, but you didn’t argue. Liz was smiling now, and that was proof enough that whatever Yujin was doing was working. She had a way of lifting her members’ spirits that was genuinely impressive.

Liz laughed, looking much more relaxed. "Thanks, unnie."

"Anytime," Yujin replied, patting her head before making her way back to her spot on the couch. As she passed you, she glanced up, smirking.

"See? I'm not just a pain in your ass."

"I never said that," you replied, but she only winked before plopping back onto the couch like she hadn’t just effortlessly reassured one of her members.

You sighed. Protecting An Yujin was exhausting… but you didn’t mind as much as you pretended to.

-

Your day off. A rare and precious thing.

You had been looking forward to it—no earpiece, no schedule to follow, no six-foot radius of hyper-vigilance around an overgrown puppy disguised as an idol. Just a quiet, peaceful day to yourself.

Or so you thought.

The realization hit you like a cruel joke when you spotted her.

An Yujin. Hoodie up, mask on, but you’d recognize her anywhere. The way she walked, slightly loose-limbed and confident, like the world was hers to navigate. The way she hummed under her breath as she glanced at store signs, completely unaware of how reckless she was being.

You groaned under your breath. Of course.

But before you could even question why she was out alone, without security, without backup, you saw him. A man. Mid-thirties. Dark hoodie. His posture was too stiff, his steps too calculated. He lingered a few feet behind Yujin, never overtaking her, never slowing down. His gaze flickered to her every few seconds, fingers twitching slightly as if waiting for something.

Your instincts kicked in immediately.

You followed her into a convenience store, keeping to the shelves as she strolled past the snack aisle. She had no idea. Her biggest concern at the moment was probably whether to get banana milk or iced coffee—completely oblivious to the shadow tailing her.

He lingered near the entrance, pretending to look at snacks but never actually picking anything up. His eyes were locked on Yujin, and his fingers twitched like he was waiting for the right moment.

Sasaeng. Your stomach turned cold.

You moved fast.

The moment Yujin left the store, you followed right behind. And just as the man reached out—

You grabbed his wrist. Tight.

A sharp intake of breath. The man's head snapped toward you, eyes widening in shock and irritation.

"The hell—?" he hissed, jerking back, but you didn’t let go.

Yujin spun around, startled. "Huh?—"

"Good afternoon, mister." You pulled her behind you instinctively, keeping your grip on the man. "I don’t know what you think you’re doing," you said, voice low and firm, "but walk away. Now."

The man scowled, trying to yank his arm free. "Who the hell are you?"

"Her bodyguard," you answered coldly. "And if you don’t leave in the next five seconds, you won’t like what happens next."

A flicker of hesitation. His eyes darted between you and Yujin, who was standing rigid behind you now, her usual carefree energy drained into something tense and alert.

Then, finally, the man sneered and yanked his arm free. "Tch. Not worth it," he muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there for a moment, making sure he was really gone, before exhaling.

And then you remembered the girl behind you.

"So…what the hell?" you snapped, turning to her. "Why are you alone?"

She blinked up at you, wide-eyed, still processing what just happened. "Uh…"

"You know how dangerous this is, right?" Your voice was sharper than usual, the adrenaline still running through you. "No staff, no backup, no security. What were you thinking?"

Yujin finally seemed to snap out of it, rubbing the back of her neck. "...I just wanted to go out for a bit. I didn’t want to bother anyone."

Your fists clenched, the lingering adrenaline making your chest feel too tight. "You call this not bothering anyone? You're lucky I decided to go out right now you dunce."

She hesitated, shifting on her feet. Then, in a small voice, she admitted, "I didn’t even realize he was following me."

You exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Yujin," you muttered, softer this time, "this is exactly why you can’t go out alone. It’s not about you wanting freedom, it’s about your safety. There are people out there who—" You stopped, shaking your head. "Just... don’t do this again."

Silence stretched between you for a few seconds before Yujin suddenly smiled.

It wasn’t her usual teasing grin. It was softer. Almost... grateful.

"You really do care about me, huh?"

You groaned. "That’s what you’re taking from this?"

Her lips twitched, and just like that, the mischievous glint in her eyes was back. She nudged your arm playfully. "Admit it. You’d miss me if I got kidnapped."

"Don't make me use profanity you—"

"Fine, fine!" She laughed, hands up in surrender. But then she let out a breath, gaze flickering down for a second before meeting yours again, more earnest this time.

"Seriously, though," she murmured. "Thanks. I mean it."

You watched her for a moment, noting the way her usual carefree mask had cracked just a little. The way her eyes, despite the teasing, held something like genuine gratitude. She nudged you playfully. "Guess I owe you one, huh?"

"More like you owe me about a hundred at this point," you muttered, finally relaxing.

Yujin grinned. "Then I’ll start by buying you lunch. C’mon, bodyguard. Let’s eat."

And despite everything, despite the fact that this was supposed to be your day off, you found yourself walking beside her, watching her laugh like nothing had happened.

-

You should’ve known saving An Yujin would have consequences.

Not in the form of a promotion or a bonus (though you wouldn’t say no to either), but in the absolute menace she had become ever since that day.

At first, you thought you were imagining things—the longer stares, the way her lips curled mischievously whenever she caught your eye, the subtle brushes of her fingers against your arm whenever she passed by.

Then, the touches became more deliberate. The teasing got more frequent. The closeness is more unbearable.

It was like a switch had flipped. Suddenly, your personal space was no longer yours. And the worst part? She did it so naturally, like she had always been this clingy with you.

Just like this one morning at the company building—

"Mr. Bodyguaaard~" Yujin sang as she threw an arm over your shoulders, completely ignoring the amused stares of the staff around you. "Walk me to the practice room!"

You exhaled. "Yujin, You know I’m going there anyway."

"But this way is more fun." She tightened her grip, practically hanging off you.

You gave her a look. "...Do you have to be this close?"

"Yes," she said simply, grinning.

It only got worse after a long schedule. You were expecting Yujin to slump in exhaustion like she usually did. Instead, the moment she climbed into the van, she scooted over without hesitation, settling in way too close before dropping her head onto your shoulder with a satisfied sigh.

Your entire body stiffened.

"What are you doing?" you asked, voice flat, not daring to move.

"Getting comfortable," she mumbled, shifting slightly as if trying to mold herself against you.

Your brow twitched. "You have an entire seat to yourself."

"But I don’t want to sit alone," she said simply, eyes fluttering shut. "You’re warm."

Across from you, Wonyoung and Liz exchanged knowing looks.

"Oh no," Gaeul muttered, covering her mouth to hide a laugh.

"I don’t get it," Wonyoung whispered, glancing between you and Yujin. "Since when were they this close?"

Liz smirked. "Since someone got rescued and suddenly realized how cool their bodyguard is."

You sighed. "I heard that, Jiwon."

"I'm glad you did," Liz cheekily shot back.

Meanwhile, Yujin hummed in contentment, completely ignoring the stares and the muffled giggles of her members. As if your shoulder was the perfect place to rest, she nestled in further, her soft breath fanning against your neck.

You felt heat creep up your collar.

"...Heavy," you muttered, shifting slightly.

"Comfy," she countered with a teasing lilt, her lips curling into a lazy grin.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Gaeul shaking her head. "This is getting dangerous."

Liz, meanwhile, giggled behind her hand. "We should start selling tickets to this slow-burn romance."

You groaned. Yujin? She just smirked.

Her clingy antics doesn't stop in the comfort of their dorm, unfortunately. Before their music show performance, you were standing near the dressing room door, waiting for the members to finish.

And then the door swung open.

Yujin strolled out like she was making a grand entrance, her hair freshly styled, her makeup flawless—looking every bit the idol she was.

And then, in one smooth motion, she reached out, grabbed your hand, and laced her fingers with yours.

Your brain lagged.

"Let’s go, mister!" she announced.

You blinked. "Why are you holding my hand—?"

"You saved me, so now I’m keeping you close!" she said cheerfully. "You're my lucky charm!"

Behind her, Leeseo’s jaw dropped. Liz and Rei had to turn away to hide their laughter.

"Yujin," you hissed under your breath, trying to pull away.

She only tightened her grip.

"Nope," she said. "Mine now."

You could physically feel Wonyoung’s migraine forming. "You cannot just say that out loud," Wonyoung groaned, covering her face.

"I just did." Yujin smirked, swinging your intertwined hands slightly, watching your reaction with delight.

Liz and Rei lost it, muffling their laughter behind their hands.

At that moment, a staff member walked by, did a double-take at your very obvious hand-holding situation, and nearly tripped.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

-

You really should have been more prepared for this.

It happened at the airport, in front of dozens of fans, reporters, and flashing cameras.

You were walking beside Yujin, scanning the crowd for any potential threats, keeping a careful distance—when suddenly—

"Honey~!"

You froze. The world stopped.

Gasps. Shrieks. Camera flashes directly in your face.

Even the security personnel ahead of you paused.

Your entire being short-circuited. "What did you just call me?"

Yujin, completely unbothered, turned to you with an innocent smile. "Honey~" she repeated, her voice sweet as sugar.

Wonyoung, Gaeul, and Rei screamed.

 Leeseo was flabbergasted, with Liz quickly covering the youngest's ear from behind.

Even the fans were losing their minds.

"OH MY GOD—"

"WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY—"

"HUH?!?!?"

"YUJIN CALLED HER BODYGUARD HONEY?!?!"

"What. The. Hell. Yujin?!" Your ears burned with embarrassment. "Are you trying to make me headline Dispatch?"

"You take care of me," Yujin said smoothly, not missing a beat. "You protect me, you make sure I eat, you saved my life—so obviously, you're my honey."

"You cannot just say that out loud in public," you hissed, absolutely mortified.

"But I just did," she replied with a grin, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You quickly cover her mouth, frantically trying to damage control. "STOP!!!!"

At this point, Wonyoung had buried her face in her hands, physically unable to process what was happening. Gaeul was bent over, wheezing. Rei looked like she was watching the most dramatic plot twist unfold in real life.

A fan nearby whispered to their friend, "Do you think they’re dating?"

You nearly collapsed.

And Yujin?

She just tugged on your sleeve, eyes filled with amusement, and smiled. "Come on, honey. Let’s go."

And as you caught the knowing grins of her members, the delighted chaos among the fans, and the sheer horror on your own face reflected in the airport glass, you realized something.

You didn’t just save An Yujin.

You unleashed a monster.

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Mutual masterbation with Stanford Art

It’s a scorching Saturday afternoon when you find yourself laid half naked in Art's bed, the AC unit in your dorm had broke Thursday morning and you’d been doing what you could to stave off the heat, spending most of your day in the library or cafeteria between classes but you always had to go back to your god forsaken room at the end of the day.

Art had noticed your condition the past few days sweating through lounge clothes that fit a bit to tight for comfort short enough to show a little more skin, he understood your discomfort but fuck you looked so good each forced to excuse himself after each encounter around hard as a rock. It was confusing to you not noticing how hard he was or his obvious infatuation towards you but you paid no mind.

Art been in love with you for ages pining pathetically for years. Patrick mocked him comparing him to a dog utterly devoted yet all of his attempts were in vain, someone else always caught your eye or you’d write off any of his compliments as friendly banter. He was on the verge of giving up but the summer heat finally gave way to the possibility of anything happening between you two.

you hit your boiling point unable to handle the exasperating heat

so now you're here at his front door pleading for some relief.

“Art it’s too hot I need air please" you stammer the words completely jumbled together, he’s taken aback a bit but steps aside letting you in

 “can I strip please I’m begging you" clammy hands tugging at the hem of your shirt

“of course yeah.” Art acquiesces voice cracking as he turns away respecting your privacy utterly shocked, his best friend here almost nude. You strip grateful in too much distress to notice his unease.

“lay in the bed” he offers still staring at the wall, you squint the blatant shyness but don’t care stumbling forward falling back exhaling deeply the breeze from the air-con finally hitting your body the cold calming you down

"Art lie down" you hum patting the space next to you, the boy shuffles over landing next to your body making sure there’s miles of space between you both

You frown shoving your shoulder against his, gripping his arm and pulling him closer "why are you freaking out you've seen me in a bikini before" you ask puzzled.

"this is different" he shrugs "underwear" he gulps, he hates himself for acting this way clamming up like a child it’s pitiful.

"Art it's just me, your best friend" you grin cupping his face tilting his head meeting his worried gaze.

Best friend he winces but wills that strain away shutting his eyes giving in tugging his shirt off as well. “I guess I need fresh air too” he sighs settling against his pillow not before peeking at your chest, nipples pebbling through your lace bra. He averts his gaze quickly when you pinch his arm coughing awkwardly knowing he’d been caught.

“Artie.. something you like?” You joke scooting a bit closer to him

“you wish” he sneers but shifts uncomfortably tugging his shorts trying to tamper down his growing boner, you follow his movements, realizing of what’s happening hitting you. 

“want me to help?” you ask.

“Shut up” he whines embarrassed “you’re fucking with me” he rolls his eyes with disdain 

you try to sound sincere “I will..” you nod, hand slowly shifting over his stomach towards his crotch “only if you want” you stammer sitting up on one elbow.

 “yes, yeah go for it” he chokes out eagerly in disbelief

You settle back down palming his hard on, “fuck” he throws his head back you smirk ego slightly inflated, hand slowly tugs the waistband of his boxers down mouth salivating at the sight erect tip flushed pink leaking, it makes you feel sorry for him. “So needy” you pout running your fingers up and down his member squeezing his balls lightly

“Tease” he chokes out gripping the sheets firmly, you give in feeling bad once his chin starts to wobble, you spit in your palm looking into his eyes as you do so his reaction priceless, mouth slack eyes blinking languidly

you tug his spit slathered dick slowly up and down, rolling his balls between your hand roaming up again running your thumb over his tip smearing pre cum over it, holding back a giggle when a whimper escapes his lips twisting your wrist with each pump.

“Fuck I’m close” sweat beading on his forehead enough of an indication, you lean forward and suck his neck nipping a bit before rising your mouth barely touching his “cum for me.” 

He shudders beneath you panting softly one hand gripping your thigh with a vice surely leaving red indents on your flesh. 

You attempt make his high last as longer milking him dry until he grabs your wrist, “too much” he heaves chest flushed red just like his cheeks.“Didn’t know you’d be that good” he laughs. 

“Doubting my skills? that hurts” you mock lifting your hand observing the thin creamy substance on your skin bringing your fingers to your lips sucking them out of curiosity. Art gulps eyes fixated dick beginning to harden again.

You sigh in contentment, leaning back against the headboard staring up at the ceiling “hope that was nice” you smile knowing it was. 

You stiffen as Art unexpectedly grips your waist. “Can I do you” he pleads meekly.

“no need to return the favor” you laugh ruffling his curls but he shakes his head desperately. “Please.. let me make you feel good” his body vibrates “been wanting to for a while-” he admits eyes watery “please-” 

“alright..” you whisper caressing his cheek wondering where his eagerness is coming from.

what really takes you back is him kissing you, immediately latching his mouth on yours without warning biting at your bottom lip, demanding to open up. You cave tongues lashing together as spit dribbles down your chin. His hand snakes down stopping right over your mound running his fingers up and down your slit over your underwear the cotton rubbing against your clit just right

 you gasp mouth dropping at the sensation he smirks fingers slipping into pussy gathering juices from your hole smothering it over your clit tracing he circles around it

“shit” you groan feeling his fingers slip inside you lost in your own pleasure nails digging into his arm body rolling in time with his hand. 

An idea pops up, finish at the same time

 you sneak a hand between his boxers knowing you can pull another orgasm out of him, Art hisses at contact involuntarily slowing his ministrations cursing trying to concentrate on his movements, “together come on” you urge pecking his lips gently

He nods both of your bodies trembling in tandem, exchanging moans between open mouths, gripping skin trying to find some semblance of control.

“Art I’m close” you squeal eyes shut tight chest rising and falling rapidly 

“come on fucking cum” he grunts sinking his teeth into your shoulder your legs clench together as pleasure rips through you like lightning, a sudden gushing sensation releases between your thighs you gape at his soaked palm 

“I didn’t know I could do that” you pant trying to catch your breath

“doubting my skills?” He whispers pecking a sloppy kiss on your cheek

[ishasturnz]

‘ Awkward Apologies ‘

dividers by:@ianrkives

authors note: i’m really hoping my smut writing is good because i genuinely don’t know how smut writers do it..

Summary: A few weeks ago when you and Chris thought you were gonna be home alone after matt left with nick, Unannounced Nick came back home early and walked in on you and Chris…

Contains: porn without plot, getting caught, ROUGHHH sex, nick being dramatic.

word count: 722

character count: 3271

4:57 PM

“Nick and I are heading out to grab some Cane's; we'll be back soon,” Matt announced, his voice full of annoyance as he jingled his keys and checked that his wallet was tucked securely in his pocket. Nick, a few steps behind, Just stood with a stupid smile on his face after bugging Matt about getting canes.

“Alrighty, it’s not like we’re even going anywhere so the door should be unlocked by the time you guys get here.” My was tone neutral since me and Chris were watching a movie on the TV.

5:25 PM

The bed creaked loudly under the weight of both our bodies

Chris pounds into you mercilessly as you moan louder. “couldn’t- fuck… FUCK y/n- couldn’t wait until they left..” Chris groaned and railed into you harder from behind.

He pushes your back down so it arches more somehow making him go deeper than before and making his cock hit magic spots you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuh- fuck!” You moaned, no screamed out in pure bliss. You swore sometimes you could feel his cock pick at your heart sometimes.

His Hand grips onto the headboard of his bed which was unbelievably hitting the wall hard. Most likely leaving a dent in it.

Almost hard enough to probably break the bed in general.

Our noises somehow grew louder and louder each and every second. The sheets practically were covered in sweat, drool, tears, and other substances.

The one thing we should’ve heard, we missed.

Nick opening the entrance door.

He most likely had already gotten an earful of unholy noises coming from Chris’s room starting from when he opened the door and passed his room.

6:01 PM

Nick started to approach Chris’s room, not even thinking about the unholy scene he was about to witness.

The doorknob twisted and opened to a very traumatized-looking Nick— “What the FUCK!”

Me and Chris quickly pulled our bodies apart from where they met and scrambled up the blankets to cover our nude bodies up.

“Nick why the fuck are you back so early?!” Chris yelled while covering himself up from being exposed to his brother.

“The real question is, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING?!” Nick screaming out of pure disgust and disdain.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming back until later on?!” I screamed, holding up the blanket over my bare breasts and lower body.

“You guys are legitimately fucking SICKENING.” Nick sternly spoke before slamming Chris’s door for us to do whatever we had to do after.

A day after

My thoughts continued to spiral around the fact Nick caught me and Chris in the most intimate way possible.

Every time we saw each other we couldn’t even look into each other’s eyes.

After begging Chris to take me to ShopRite to buy cake mix and frosting he finally agreed to do so.

“You realize he probably forgot already right?” Chris drove keeping one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh gently squeezing.

“That doesn’t matter Chris, that’s like saying I’d forget when you thought it’d be a good idea to put paper towels in the oven.” My voice still a bit worn out from the acts that happened a day prior. “Those two things literally don’t correlate at all.”

“—Thats not the point..!” I didn’t yell loud enough to be considered screaming just loud enough to be considered as whiny.

Back at the house, 2:37 PM

Chris helped me bake the cake while Nick was still out at a meeting, Matt was asleep probably not going to wake up until 3:00.

We frosted it and put writing on it so the apology wasn’t as verbal since it’d be a bit awkward saying it out loud.

4:06 PM

Nick was finally back in the house, I waited till I heard him go upstairs and close his door before running to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

I left the casing on so nothing spilt and I went straight up to Nick’s room. I quietly knocked waiting for him to open the door.

The opened and I handed him the cake with a fork, “M’sorry nick..” my apology sounded sincere and heartfelt.

“Yeah yeah I forgive you—“ He hugged you to show that he actually forgave you before pausing and saying something else.

“But next time I even HEAR the smallest bit of you guys fucking i’m gonna kill myself.”

“Nicolas!”

taglist: @tezzzzzzzz @tenaciousearthquakeperson @angvl3tears @sturnshood @sturnberries @sturniologirlzz @muwapsturniolo @dykes4chris @chrepsi @chrisisadilf @chrissturniolossidebitch @baileysturnz @slut4christopherr @slxt4chriss @slvtf0rchr1s @slxtarchive @raesturns @hjvi @starkeyszn @audreyscave @lailasnight @sturns-mermaid @ikyoudreamofme @sturnsmadl @ohmanareyoucereal9 @sosasturns @blushsturns @rcklessheavn @55sturn @phone4pills @cupiidk1lls @bsturnzmtts @wh0remikasas @sfoiasturn @trevorsgodmother

MASTERLIST

[crushmeeren]

// ⋆ well shit…here i am, back on my bullshit, writing about the man who inspired me to start this blog in the first place.

// ⋆ no warnings, fluffy fluff with my main man katsuki. take it!!! (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

master list

Some of the best moments in your relationship are in the evening. When Katsuki crawls into bed right after his nightly shower.

It’s late. Super late. So late, in fact, you’ve completed your own routine and have curled up under the covers. Dinner, shower, skin care, putting on your favorite lotion, etc. You’d reached the point of scrolling on your phone without a care, the TV playing in the background for white noise.

Katsuki comes home from patrol just as the grip on your phone starts to become lax, eyelids drooping, mind jerking awake to find the same video has played on an endless loop for the past five minutes.

Katsuki calls out as he strides down the hallway. “You in bed already princess?” He’s shoeless entering the bedroom, headband pushed up to hold back his bangs, and he reeks of sweat.

“Mhmm. Was gonna try and wait up for you so we could shower together, but I got too tired.” You drop your phone and reach both arms out for him. “C’mere.”

Katsuki hums, bending down once he reaches the bed, wrapping you up in a warm hug when you meet him halfway. “Careful, I smell fuckin’ terrible. I didn’t shower at work.”

“Don’t care,” you say, squeezing him tight. His tank top is a bit damp. “You smell like burnt caramel mostly, so it’s not too bad.”

“You’re fuckin’ lying,” he says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple and releasing you from the hug. You flop onto the mattress, boneless. “I was soaked in sweat before I left, it’s more than just fuckin’ caramel. It’s ass.”

Laughter bursts out of you. “Alright! Alright, you caught me, I was lying. You stink. Go shower please.”

Katsuki returns to the kitchen and eats whatever leftovers you put in the fridge first, then jumps in the shower, eager to end the night with cuddling. Once done he turns off all the lights, leaves the TV on, and slips under the blankets in his briefs only.

Clean, fresh, and something salty reminding you of the ocean fills your nose. Katsuki’s been trying a new body wash and it’s amazing. He relaxes on his back, arm raising to welcome you in, and waits. You snuggle into his side instantly.

He’s a touch too warm from the water, skin so soft and so smooth. Satisfied and in love, you rest your head on his chest, unable to recall a time you’ve ever felt safer or happier in your life. The feeling of contentment radiates to the tips of your toes.

You search for the covers and pull them up, an arm draping across his stomach as hugs you close. Katsuki runs his free hand through his hair to shake out the access water, and a few cool drops hit your cheek, which he then wipes off with his thumb and mumbles an apology.

His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. Fighting off sleep is close to impossible now and the TV is still on.

“Kat,” you murmur. “I’m not making it through the next episode.” Your voice cracks with sleep.

“S’okay, princess. I’ll be up for a second, go ahead and knock out.”

You sigh and push into him even more. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, tone as sweet as honey. “To the moon and back.”

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Radio Demon Demands Snuggles 1/2

Summary: It's your first rut month in Hell and you've caught the interest of the Radio Demon. The Radio Demon who's annual problem was a bit different than most others....

Notes: NO SMUT, Alastor x Reader, pre-relationship, OOC Alastor, he gets better, Snuggles, communication, suggestive themes because it's about rut

One day you woke up in Alastor’s room, nestled in his bed. You blinked, delirious and confused, and tried to sit up only to find you were pinned down on the mattress.

By Alastor.

Who wasn’t wearing his coat. Or his shoes. Or his monocle.

Who was clinging onto you, cheek pressed into your stomach, his tail wagging happily out in the open.

You were equal parts terrified, confused, and awe-struck. But first.

“Alastor…?”

“Mmmm yes?” He murmured, sleep making his voice come out in a drawl.

“…What are you doing?”

“Snuggling.” Alastor sighed, nuzzling his face against you as his wagging tail picked up speed. His sharp grin had been swapped out for a dopey looking smile, his fangs poked out under his lip.

“….Why?”

“Snuggle time.”

You blinked, confused “Alastor- I- what’s going on- why are you-“

“Shshshshhshshshhhhh.” He said, putting a hand over your face to stop your mumbling “Snuggles.”

He withdrew his hand, wrapping the arm around you and sighing contently.

“…Are you sick? Were you drugged?”

“Only drug here is an excessive amount of dopamine.” Alastor said, his eyes squinting in his smile. “So soft. So comfy.”

Not adjectives you’d use to describe yourself, but that wasn’t important. Your tried to pry Alastor off you only to stop abruptly when he whined. Like a dog. The sound was high-pitched and heartbreaking to hear and you couldn’t find it in you to continue pushing him away.

He snapped right back to you, his tail wagging again as he pressed his face flushed against you.

With no other choice, you ended up laying there, staring at the sky of Alastor’s strange pocket-dimension and feeling squished underneath him. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling by any means, but the strangeness of Alastor’s behavior was still upsetting you. After a bit, you tried again.

“Alastor can you tell me what’s going on now?” You said. His response was to nuzzle his face into your stomach and grip you harder. His ears pinned back slightly as he muttered his protest at being interrupted. This was wrong. Fingers curling into the sheets, you tried to steady yourself enough to breath evenly. It failed. You let out a quiet, shaky sob.

Alastor’s ears shot straight up.

“Alastor, please- I’m really worried, okay?” You said as you fought to keep your voice steady “This is really, really weird for you- and I-“

“Oh, darling….” Alastor sighed. He pushed himself away and off you, though it seemed it took a good deal of effort. His hands came to cradle either side of your face and he wiped your tears away gently “Always so considerate…”

You lightly gripped his wrists and pulled them off you “Alastor-“

“It’s rut month, my dear.”

You didn’t try hiding your confusion.

“…Ah. No one told you about it yet.” He muttered “Rut month….well. Most demons get it, it’s an annual punishment where a demon’s… physical interests, intensify to a point it’s near impossible to control.”

You stiffen. “Uh-“

Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, fingers carding gently through your hair. “it’s…humiliating. To say so, but even I’m not exempt from this.”

“UUUUUHHHH”

“….You seem distressed.”

“Alastor, I do NOT want to fuck.”

“I am not asking you to.” Alastor said, a slight growl to his voice. He pressed your head against his chest and wrapped his long limbs around you, keeping you still “For some demons, ruts are…different. Odd. Whatever. In my case,” he took a long, deep breath, nose buried in your hair “I simply…erk. Get.” He pressed you head firmer against him, as if trying to stop you from pulling away. His body felt very warm and you wondered if that was due to the rut or embarrassment. “…snuggly.”

“….That’s it?”

“Clingy. Snuggly. Perhaps…. A bit….silly. Overly affectionate. All those things I hate being.”

“….It feels wrong.” You sighed, trying to pull away “From what I’m gathering, you’re not exactly yourself. I don’t want to do this if you-“

He whined again, wrapping around you even tighter.

“Alastor.” You said.

It seemed he purposely ignored you, pressing his face against the back of your neck.

“Alastor.” You said again, putting more authority into your voice.

“Don’t do this to me, darling….” He said quietly. The tremble in his voice made your heart break but you meant what you said.

“You would not be okay with this during a normal time.” You said “This is something you’d regret once you’re coherent and I will NOT do that to you. Understand?”

“Darling-“

“No.” You hissed.

“….hold my hand?”

You furrowed your brows. “…. I don’t think you’d-“

“Arm around mine then. Hands on my ears. Something, dearest. Please.”

“…Sit up.”

He did. You pretended it didn’t bother you as much as it did. Gently you guided him so he was laying on his back with his head on the pillow. Then you settled next to him, allowing your arm to just barely brush his. Alastor tried to move closer and you pushed him away.

“No. this is as far you’d go normally.”

“Damn.” He murmured, ears pinning back as he glared intently at the ceiling.

“I think you’ll thank me, later.” You said with a roll of your eyes, flipping open a book you snagged from his bedside. It was a murder mystery, to no one’s surprise.

“Well right now, I am not.” He huffed.

“Whatever. Try to sleep it off.” You said, trying to ignore how badly you wanted to move closer. For whatever reason, Alastor had sought you out for this. That alone was enough the set your cheeks aflame and give you the warm and fuzzies. But he was being so cute too.

It didn’t matter, though. As innocent as snuggling was, you were sure Alastor wouldn’t do it while coherent, and you weren’t going to take advantage of it.

The month crawled by. Alastor seemed to accept the boundary you drew for him, but whenever you weren’t by his side he would start pacing irritably. If it was particularly bad day, he’d start to whine. The residents of the hotel seemed more worried about you than Alastor, asking where you’ve been and why you’ve been hard to reach.

You didn’t know how much Alastor would want to share so you kept it vague. Saying it wasn’t your situation to share. Charlie let up when you assured her you would ask for help if need be. Angel kept smirking whenever he saw you and offered to ‘help you out for rut month’. You supposed that was the natural conclusion to come to but you never said anything other than waving him off.

Turned out you were one of the lucky few who didn’t get the annual rut. Nifty had exclaimed she didn’t get it either. Though she sounded incredibly disappointed by it. Angel’s was so insignificant to him given his lifestyle, and Husk said he’d usual set something up before hand to ‘fuck it out’ as soon as possible. Charlie and Vaggie didn’t seem to get it, as it seemed to be a sinner thing. Lucifer seemed surprised it was a thing at all.

None of this helped you with Alastor. You sighed, feeling utterly drained as you trotted back to his room. Your muscles tense but no fierce tackle was thrown your way. First beat was confusion. Second was concern. Third (but faint) was disappointment.

“Alastor?” You said, taking off your shoes by the door and padding softly into his room.

“Hello, dear.” The Radio Demon grinned. He was sat at an armchair, legs crossed primly as he flipped through a book. His coat and monocle were back, his shoes on neatly.

“Oh! Is it over now?” You exclaimed, relief flooding over the slight (selfish) disappointment.

“It would seem so!” He hummed. He closed his book and placed It on the table next to him before strolling over to you. That sharp-toothed grin was back, no longer the dopey smile you had gotten used to.

“That’s such a relief.” You said with a smile “I can go back to living!”

“Nah-ah-ha.” Alastor hummed, wagging his finger “AFTER-living, darling.”

“Yeah, yeah, that.” You said with a roll of your eyes. “Well! I’ll grab my things I moved over here and get going.”

“Already taken care of!” Alastor grinned “I didn’t exactly want all those soulless stuffed animals staring at me with their void-filled eyes.”

“Dude.” You huffed “They’re just stuffed animals. Chill.”

“Kindly use words that make sense.”

“Skibidi.”

“……YOU don’t even know what that one means.”

“I know it annoys you.”

“HA.”

You laughed a bit. “Well, thanks for that. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Kindly do. I have a plethora of matters to attend to.” Alastor said, his grin straining ever-so-slightly “Damned rut season….”

“Well yeah it’s damned, we’re in hell.”

“HA HA.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” You grinned “Well, see ya.”

“Ta-ta! Oh….One more thing, before you go?”

You stopped, turning to face him “Yeah?”

Alastor ears went back, his eyes darting to the side “…Thank you.”

Your smile softened “Of course.”

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 10 - vulnerability

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, fluff central

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

you and rafe had spent the whole afternoon together and it had been everything and more. just like he had promised the other week, he was showing you around LA and never leaving your side.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange as you walked along venice beach, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race.

"you know," rafe said with a smile, glancing over at you, "i’m glad we’re doing this. not just the tour thing, but... you and me, this."

his words hit differently now, sitting down on the beach to watch the gentle waves and the sky change colours.

you looked over at him, "me too," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned back, his playful energy still present, but a hint of seriousness took over him. "i've never done this before." he admitted.

"done what?" you asked him.

"caught feelings like this." he spoke softly, almost scared to say the words out loud.

you reached out to touch his cheek, "me neither rafe." you held his gaze, "there's still so much we have to learn about each other."

"i know, and that's what i'm scared of."

"why?" you questioned.

"i'm scared you won't like the version of me you uncover. i'm not good with my words but, i didn't used to be a good person. i was addicted to drugs, i bought girls home every night to fill a void, i was so unhappy and treated people so badly. but this," he stuck his hands out and pointed between the two of you, "i've never experienced this."

his truth taking you by surprise, but making your heart swell that he was opening up to you this way. "i'm not scared rafe. the rafe i know now is a good guy. i've never met someone like you and i want to know all parts of you even those that you think i won't like."

rafe let out a soft, almost shaky breath at your words. it was as if you had taken a weight off his shoulders without even realising it. his eyes softened, and the air between you two stilled for a moment.

his eyes didn't leave yours, no response was needed, but he pulled you in for a soft kiss full of emotion.

he pulled away to stare at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.

"i’ve been thinking about you a lot," he admitted, almost too quietly. "more than i thought i would. i know we’re still figuring things out, but i can’t help but want to be around you. want to be better because of you."

your heart fluttered at the honesty in his words, the vulnerability making you weak, all laid out in front you.

"rafe, you’re already better. you’ve made it this far and the fact that you're here with me, saying this stuff, shows me just how far you've come. you don’t have to prove anything."

his lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just smiled. without another word, he reached out, carefully taking your hand into his, the touch gentle, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after many hours had passed of gentle touches and soft conversation, you headed back to the hotel in time to join the others and pack before your flight back home tomorrow.

your chest was full of happiness, feeling ready for what was to come.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: why am i crying writing this they are so cute i hate them

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68

i will be taking people off taglist if that don't interact! just as more people want to be added and need to make it fair<3

[star-suh]

Johnny, La Gente Está Muy Loca… WTF

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: protected sex to bareback (remember do NAWT use oil based lube when you're using a condom), some impregnation kink disguised as silly jokes 😭

an: this is the best title i could ever think of ngl, like this is peak star-suh idk.

—

yn was in line waiting for the doors to open so he can finally witness a party with DJ JohnnyBe, he heard that all his parties are fun.

when they opened yn went straight to the bar to order something to drink, while he was waiting for the show to start he made some friends her and there.

“ladies and gentlemen please give it up for our guest DJ JohnnyBe” screams and claps of excitement flooded the room when the dj appeared. “hello everyone, i'm glad to be here and i hope i could make this night unforgettable for all of you” he winked, put on his dark glasses and blasted his first set of songs. the bass sounds make the floor vibrate. the music was intoxicating, DJ JohnnyBe indeed knows how to lit a party. during one of his last sets johnny removed his glasses, his gaze was adjusting to the bright colored flashing lights when he saw yn in the crowd. the guy was happy having the time of his life, something that made johnny smile and caught his attention too.

“excuse me, i’m going to the bathroom” yn whispered to one of his new friends and went there. “it was a magnificent night guys, thank you for coming here but i have to go now” everyone awwed, disappointed, wanting more of him, “but don't worry, tye part continues with the next dj”, everyone screamed in euphoria while johnny left and went to the bathroom.

yn was washing his face when someone entered the bathroom, “hey you're the happy boy that was on the crowd” johnny said with a happy tone. yn was stunned seeing him that close, his mouth was agap, thinking it was a dream caused by all the drinks he had tonight he said “fuck, you're so hot”. johnny was taken aback by this but then smirked, “well thanks” he replies.

yn realized it's not a dream, dj johnny fucking be was right there in front of him. his face became red like a tomato. “i-i'm sorry i think i-i d-drank a lot to-tonight haha” his flustered ass tried to brush it off. johnny places both hands on each side of tn cornering him against a counter. “you look so cute when you're flustered” both males made eye contact, one’s eyes showing how shy he was while the other's were fierce, as if a hunter had just hunted his prey.

“what's wrong party boy. what happened to that “fuck you're so hot” earlier comment, hmm?” at this point yn didn't know what to say he just closed his eyes but opened them again when he felt something poking at his bulge. it was johnny’s bulge. “see how horny i am, right now?, you should take responsibility for it” the low tone of his voice sending yn already to cloud 9, he moaned johnny’s name.

“hmm what was that?” johnny asked, his breath tickling yn’s neck. his lips ghosting his skin. he was desperate to feel johnny, he wanted him to touch him, obliterate him, rearrange his insides. “i’ve never felt this horny before for someone” yn confessed, feeling even more shy. johnny grabbed him by his chin so he can look directly at his eyes, “me neither” he said kissing the flustered boy…

johnny guided yn towards a bathroom stall while still kissing him, his tongue wxploring the other's mouth. “just put it in, i prep myself at home” yn said in between moans. “naughty” johnny heaved. he pulls out a condom from his pocket, unwrapped it and rolled it down his big thick shaft.

“wait” yn stopped johnny from putting in, “use this” he handed johnny a little bottle of lube that one of his new friends, conveniently, gave it to him as a ‘gift’ so he can have lots of fun tonight.

johnny applied and large amount of it on the latex and on yn's hole, he slapped it a few times on the entrance and slowly put it in, inch by inch. the sex was rough, with johnny using his hands to muffle yn's moans, something that was unnecessary due to the excessive loud music outside in the club. there were times were johnny instead made yn suck his fingers as if it was his dick. every time the dj thrusted deep a bulge formed on yn's tummy, “joh-johnny you're very deep”.

yn was pressed against the stall door with his eyes rolled back, johnny was stimulating his prostate continuosly and in return he was gripping hard on johnny's meat, “you're choking my little budy down there” he put his hand on the bottom's head pushing it even more harder against the door. a smile appeared on yn's face, he loved how rough johnny was treating him. “more. more. i need moree~”.

if someone were in the bathroom right now they would think that some rabid dog would be locked in the bathroom, with the loud strange sounds and the banging against the cold metal walls. but in reality johnny was there thrashing yn around the stall, there was not a pose left for them to try or a surface that they haven't touched with their sweaty bodies. missionary, against the wall, riding, with one leg up, johnny fucking him while still grabbing him. yn's hole was already obliterated but eager to receive more.

the smell of sweat, liquor and spit make them both feel dizzy, lost in the pleasure they both craved. hickeys littered all over their collarbones, necks and torso, hell even johnny made some on yn's thigh.

the euphoric feeling made them lost trace of time and their surroundings so much that yn didn't notice that johhny's dick felt warmer and warmer by time, he could feel every vein brushing against his walls. the same happened to johnny, he felt yn's insides warmer and how they hugged his little buddy even more than before. ‘woah, condoms nowadays make you feel like you're not wearing one’ they both said it in their minds. they didn't realize the condom broke and with every thrust it slowly went down johnny’s shaft sitting in the base of it.

johnny hugged yn tightly to impale his meat even more deep and harder, “fuck yeah please like that” yn whimpered, his body squirming in pleasure. “keep doing it like that. just a bit more. yes just right there” yn said to johnny who complied to the bottom’s demands. yn came, his torso being painted in white. his body spasm with every spurt of it. he was happy, he hasn't felt this way in years, this might be the best sex of his life.

“fuck i'm gonna cum” johnny grunted, he wanted to came on yn's face but he didn't wanted to stop feeling the warm insides of the guy so ge decided to just came inside the condom. little did he knew that he was, in fact, covering those insides with his white seed. “how does it feel to have a man's seed deep inside your hole?” johnny asked nibbling on yn's neck. “it feels sticky and so wet” yn slurred, coming back from his high.

the realization hit them both right there, “what do you mean sticky and wet?” johnny looked down seeing how the broken piece of latex was on the base of his shaft while the rest of it was inside of the other, bareback. “oh god i just bred you”, “oh my god you just breed me”, johnny and yn exclaimed in unison…

they both get out of the stall, yn walked awkwardly after all his hole suffered a lot tonight. staring at themselves in the mirror with a dumbfounded expression while fixing their looks and disheveled hair. “why are we acting as if you're gonna get pregnant” johnny joked, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

“johnny, it … it was the first time someone came inside me” yn looked down feeling embarrassed but once again johnny grabbed his chin to make eye contact with him “then i guess i have to take responsibility for that baby on there” he caressed yn’s stomach. they looked at each other and then exploded in laugh, “dumbass” yn blurted out hitting johnny's shoulder lightly.

“you're way cool than it thought” yn confesses “and so wild in sex, my back side hurts a bit”.

“i also think you're cool” johnny replied politely too, “if you want, come to my hotel room. i know a home remedy to ease that pain” he gripped one of his ass cheeks, “the night is still young” he wiggled his eyebrows.

yn caught what he meant and said “oh yes of course, i would like to try it. besides i kinda want other of your babies inside me”. johnny kissed him in the lips and then in the forehead, “let's make a football team then”. they left the bathroom straight to the hotel room to chase that euphoric feeling again.

[prettygirl-gabi]

For Real This Time

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Fluff, light angst (resolved), redemption arc, playful flirting, first-person POV

Summary: Paige finally asks you out properly, making sure that when she asks you to be her girlfriend, it's for real this time.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 of Played (final part)

Tag: @paigeluvvr @janaelalfysloml

A month had passed.

A month since the mess at the party. A month since Paige and Ice had nearly ruined everything. A month since they both worked their asses off to fix it.

And, surprisingly, they had.

Paige was back to being her usual self—focused, competitive, an absolute menace on the court. Ice was still her goofy self but noticeably more careful with her words. And me? I was finally in a place where I didn’t feel like my heart was caught between resentment and longing.

But there was still something missing.

Paige and I were close again, laughing and joking like before, but there was an invisible line we hadn’t crossed. A tension that lingered, an unspoken what now? hanging in the air.

Apparently, today was the day Paige decided to answer that question.

“You got plans tonight, mamas?”

I glanced up from my phone, finding Paige standing in front of me with that signature cocky smirk.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. “Why?”

She grinned, dropping onto the seat beside me and draping an arm over my shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Because I’m taking you out.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you are?”

“Mhm.” She nodded confidently. “A proper date. No bets, no games—just me tryna sweep you off your feet.”

I tried to ignore the way my heart did a stupid little flip. “And what if I say no?”

Paige tilted her head, pretending to think. “Then I’ll just have to show up at your dorm with flowers and serenade you until you agree.”

I laughed. “Serenade me? You cannot sing, Bueckers.”

She placed a dramatic hand over her heart. “Damn, ma, that’s crazy. You haven’t even heard me yet.”

“Don’t need to.” I smirked. “I just know.”

Paige chuckled, leaning in closer until her lips were near my ear. “Guess you’ll just have to go on this date to find out.���

I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck. She was so annoying. And attractive. And annoyingly attractive.

I sighed, feigning exasperation. “Fine.”

Her grin was immediate. “Yeah?”

I nudged her. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Paige just laughed, standing up and stretching. “Wear something cute, baby. Not that you don’t always look cute—” she winked, backing away, “—but, y’know, extra cute. For me.”

I rolled my eyes again, but there was no hiding the smile on my face.

That Night

Paige picked me up from my dorm, looking obnoxiously good in a fitted sweater and jeans.

She let out a low whistle when she saw me. “Damn. You tryna kill me, ma?”

I bit my lip, playing along. “That depends. You gonna survive this date?”

Paige smirked. “Not if you keep looking at me like that.”

I shook my head, laughing as she led me to her car.

Dinner was fun—Paige was extra flirty, taking every opportunity to touch my hand, brush my hair back, lean in too close just to see if I’d blush. (Spoiler: I did.)

At one point, she fed me a bite of her food, watching me with a knowing smile. “Damn, I missed this.”

I swallowed, meeting her gaze. “Missed what?”

Paige’s smile softened. “Us. Being like this.”

My heart clenched in the best way. “Yeah… me too.”

She reached across the table, gently lacing her fingers with mine. “So let’s make it official, the right way.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

Paige chuckled. “I mean, I’ve already won you over, the fair and square way.”

I rolled my eyes, but she squeezed my hand before I could protest.

“Let me do this right,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “Be my girlfriend, for real this time. No bullshit, no bets. Just me and you.”

Something warm bloomed in my chest. “For real?”

“For real.” Paige’s thumb brushed over my knuckles. “No games. Just us.”

I exhaled, smiling. “Okay.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

She squeezed my hand again before pulling me out of my seat and into a tight hug, swaying us slightly. “Bout damn time, ma.”

I melted into her, hiding my smile in her shoulder. “Shut up, Bueckers.”

She just laughed, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Can’t. Too busy being in love with my girl.”

And this time, when she said it, I knew she meant every word.

Later That Night

We were curled up on my couch, some random rom-com playing in the background. Paige had her arm around me, fingers tracing slow circles on my hip.

“You know,” she murmured, her lips grazing my temple, “this is the part where we usually ruin things.”

I tensed slightly. “Paige—”

She pulled back, shaking her head. “No, not like that. I just mean… this time, I wanna do it right. I don’t wanna rush or mess it up. You mean too much to me.”

My heart squeezed. “You mean a lot to me too.”

Paige smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Then we take it slow. No pressure, no expectations—just you and me.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of all the past mistakes lift just a little. “That sounds good.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah?”

I smirked. “Yeah.”

She leaned in, her lips barely brushing mine before pausing. “Can I kiss you?”

I laughed softly. “Paige, we’ve already kissed before.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but not like this.”

Something about the way she said it sent warmth flooding through me.

So I whispered, “Yes.”

And when her lips met mine, it wasn’t rushed or reckless. It wasn’t tangled in confusion or fear.

It was real.

For real this time.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋⠀FOR THE PLOT — AN 02z SMAU

017 ┆ blue icing cupcakes (0.6k words)

“Did you eat?”

“Yes, I had a blue icing cupcake. It was delicious.” Yena smiled as you two walked through the hallways of her school.

“That sounds good…” You replied. 

The moment both of you walked into the cafeteria of her school, ILLTM Academy, your eyes widened. It was filled to the brim and smelled sweeter than ever. 

There were many tables with pastries on top of them that ranged from donuts to scones and much more. It was a sweet sight—quite literally. 

“See,” Yena pointed at the direction the blue icing cupcakes were located. However, it was blocked by many other students. 

“They’re over there. Do you still want to get some?” She asked, leaving you to nod in response.

“I don’t mind.” You said with a smile.

Danielle adjusted the mini chalkboard menu, lifting it up to a higher level. She looked up at the sounds of footsteps approaching the table, a smile immediately making its way onto her face.

“Hello! Would you guys like a cupcake?” She chirped while gesturing at the blue and white icing cupcakes.

“Which one do you want?” Yena asked you as you eyed the different iced cupcakes. Silently, you pointed at the cupcake with both white and blue icing which Danielle grabbed with a napkin, placing it into a small white box.

“Is that all for today?” Danielle questioned while looking at the two of you. Yena nodded and gave Danielle $3.00. However, the cupcake only cost $2.50. She took the coins and placed them into their designated spots in the register, then began rummaging for two quarters.

Two quarters she didn’t have.

“Ah, one second.” She said before giving you two an apologetic smile. You returned her smile, reassuring her that it was okay. But that smile you once held, dropped almost immediately upon hearing a familiar name be called.

“Jay!” Danielle called. Your heads whipped over to the direction Danielle faced, noticing Jay who stood in front of a table filled with tarts and stared back at Danielle.

“Do you have a roll of quarters with you?” She asked and he nodded. Unfortunately, Jay began making his way over to the table you three stood near while tossing the roll of quarters up and down in his hold.

“Here,” he said and placed it in her hand.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for the wait,” Danielle apologized once more, shifting the attention onto you and Yena, which only meant Jay had taken note of you two being there.

You were still shocked. Even if Yena said you would possibly meet Jay at this said bake sale, you thought the chances were low. Clearly, they weren’t. 

“Here you go.” Danielle smiled while handing Yena her two missing quarters.

While those two exchanged their thank you and your welcome, you and Jay never broke eye contact with each other. 

“(Name)?” He said, almost underneath his breath, yet you caught it. You were paying so much attention to him to the point you could hear his voice in a whisper.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come to this bake sale. You could have avoided such a reunion. It was embarrassing being reminded about your one-sided crush on the boy in junior kindergarten.

The one that Sunghoon had teased you about until he graduated. It was foolish for you to even think he liked you back at such an age. You even went out of your way to buy the two of you matching keychains, into which he rejected. 

However, Jay was surprised. Throughout middle school, he was friends with Sunghoon, but wasn’t so close to you. It always felt awkward interacting with you. He did not want to remind you of the kindergarten incident. 

He knew if he was in such a position, it would feel embarrassing to remember, so he stayed away from you. 

Although there were moments where he regretted the rejection when growing up, he couldn’t turn back time and restart things to create new and better memories between you two. 

He never could.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — illtm mention 💔 rhin before u say this is inaccurate I AM NOT TRYNA BE ACCURATE U RAT

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy @i03jae @en-dream @firstclassjaylee @sunoo-bby @wensurr

FTP TAGLIST — @enhypenlovre @love-lee @ikeulove @mnhpuppy @httpenhoon @yeonmuse @modanisgf @wilonevys @starry-eyed-bimbo @immelissaaa @woniefull @mymelodyfanatic @hollxe1 @rikiiisoob @parkjjongswifey @coqhee @heirdollies @domfikeluva @miszes @eyesonlybutterflies @suhwife @yuniesluv @right-person-wrong-time @haechsworld @butterflywonz @leehsngs @ddolleri @multifandomlovers-posts @t1iqaa @itsactuallylina @bbsantc @sunghxxnie @mariwasneverthere @claumbeju @janjoonty @jvngw0nlvr @korikeu

© JUYEOZ

[skzdust]

I Want You To Want For Me

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

To the person who inspired this: basically it wasn't even my decision to write this, since you brought it up in the first place. <3

Had a ton of fun writing this one though, hope you all enjoy!

Title from "PUPPET" by Tyler, The Creator.

Summary: You and Minho have been waiting for a day you can be his all day, and it's finally here.

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Includes: free use, oral sex m receiving, face fucking, fingering, light somno, praise, degradation, scratching/marks

Word count: 1.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz,

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You woke up to a hand between your thighs.

You moaned softly, arching back into your boyfriend and resting your head on his shoulder. “Morning, Minho.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” He murmured, and you took a breath as he focused his attentions on your clit. “You remember what today is?”

“Yeah.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Good girl.” His finger moved faster. “Want you to come for the first time today like this.”

“That’s not going to take long.” You were still half-asleep, but Minho felt so good, and as his other hand moved down to circle your entrance, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Minho, Minho, Min—oh!” You came, shuddering through your orgasm. Minho let up once your legs started twitching.

“Okay, I’ll let you get ready for the day.” He placed a kiss to your temple, and you could feel the smile on his lips. “Wear something cute for me.”

“Yeah, I will.” You got out of bed, grateful your legs weren’t shaking just yet.

You went through the steps of your morning routine and chose an outfit you knew Minho would like, with a low-cut top and a short skirt. You stepped out of the bathroom, and Minho hummed appreciatively from where he still lay in bed. “You look amazing, baby.”

You did a little twirl for him, your skirt floating up to reveal just a tease of the lace underneath. “Thank you. Thought you might like it.”

“I do.”

“So, what did you want to do today?”

“Oh, just relax. Didn’t have anything in mind.”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Nothing in mind, huh?”

“Nothing in particular.” Minho’s grin was sly. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking playing some video games would be nice, and I want to order food, not feeling like cooking, but that’s about it.” You shrugged.

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “I can work with that.”

You laughed, walking out of the room. “I’m going to have some cereal, and then I’ll probably boot up the PC.”

—

You’d been sitting at your computer for a while now. You noticed when Minho walked in, but you just hummed in his direction, too absorbed in your game to acknowledge him beyond that. At least, until he leaned over your keyboard and pressed the escape key.

“Minho!” You protested, looking at him. “I was—”

“You were what?” Minho smiled innocently, his eyes wide. “As I understand it, you’re mine for today, which means I call the shots, got it? And I want you to suck me off.”

“Can I at least finish—”

“Are you going to listen, or am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?” Minho’s expression shifted.

A wave of heat ran through you. “No, I can listen.”

“Good. Stand up.”

You got up, and he took your place in your chair. You knew what was expected of you at this point as you fell to your knees in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl.” He mumbled, pushing his sweatpants down.

You were on him before he had to tell you anything, wrapping your mouth around the tip and pushing yourself down onto him.

“Fuck.” He moaned, putting a hand on the back of your head to steady himself. “Fuck, babe, you feel so fucking good. Keep going.”

You kept going, pulling back occasionally to press kisses and lick along his length. “Tastes so good, sir.”

“You like my cock that much, prove it.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Prove it? Am I not doing that enough right now?”

“I want you to choke on it, I want you to gag. Get all of me in your mouth, can you do that?”

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, then you began to take him into your mouth, gagging a bit when he hit the back of your throat. You steeled yourself to get the final bit of Minho’s cock into your mouth, and you knew from his deep, loud groan that you’d succeeded.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He said, shallowly beginning to thrust in and out. You coughed around him, feeling so full but not full enough, not where you needed it. You were so aroused, you could feel yourself growing wet. You knew Minho probably wouldn’t pay any more attention to your pleasure until he came, not because he didn’t care, but because he wanted to teach you a lesson.

You tried your best to keep yourself steady, pulling back to gasp in a breath every so often before going right back to his cock.

“Good.” He all but growled. “Good sluts know to just shut up and take it.”

You moaned loudly at that. You liked being Minho’s good slut, you wanted nothing more.

You closed your eyes as he began to use you in earnest, fucking your face at a shameless pace. You choked around him, doing your best to keep your bearings in the dizziness the whole thing was bringing upon you.

Eventually, though, his hand tightened in your hair, and he let out a long moan as he came in your mouth. “Don’t— don’t swallow.” He panted.

You didn’t, sitting there with his cum on your tongue, looking up at him patiently.

“Such a good girl.” He let go of your head. “You can swallow now.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath once you could open your mouth again. “Jesus, Minho, that was… that was good.”

He laughed. “Good, I’m glad you had fun. You can get back to your game now.”

“But—”

“You should get back to your game.” He said firmly, getting his pants zipped and standing.

“Yes, sir.” You sighed.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m not done with you for today.”

You smiled as you got back in your chair.

—

“You want to get food?” Minho walked into the room, holding his phone. “I was thinking that one Chinese place you like.”

You looked up. “That sounds great!”

He sat down beside you. He kept the delivery app up in one hand, but the other came to rest on your thigh. You smiled at it, and then smiled wider as it began to make its way further and further up.

He selected a few things and handed you the phone. “Here, pick whatever you want.”

You scrolled through the menu, and hissed in a breath when he began to rub two fingers right where your thigh met your torso. Your eyes almost fluttered at the sensation. “Minho…”

“What?” He said innocently. “Finish your order.”

You selected a couple dishes and submitted the order. Minho had started to creep closer and closer to your entrance, and it was as you were handing his phone back to him that he pushed one fingertip inside. You squeaked, nearly dropping it.

“Careful, babe.” He laughed softly, taking it and setting it to the side. “We’re going to see how many times you can come before the food gets here.”

You whined. “Yes, Minho.”

He pushed two fingers inside you, and your head dropped back with a loud moan.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” He whispered. “How do I get you to make that sound again… I mean, I have some ideas. Wanna test them?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, your head still leaning back on the couch cushions.

He curled his fingers up, and you whimpered.

“Close, but not quite.” Minho murmured. “We should keep going.” He pulled his fingers all the way out, and then pushed them back in, three this time. He began fucking you, setting a punishing pace that had you clenching down around his fingers.

“Minho…”

“That feel good?” He said. “Doesn’t it feel nice to be so full?”

You nodded, humming your agreement, although it came out much closer to a whimper than a hum.

“That’s a good little slut.”

You whined. It was always hot when Minho got sick of the praise and decided to start being mean.

“You like that?”

“Be meaner to me, please.”

He snickered. “I can do that. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Needy little thing. You just want to come, isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, wanna come.”

“Luckily for you, I’d like to see that.” His voice was like a fine whiskey, smooth, but made you burn to the very core. “You’re just a toy, just for me, so you’re going to do exactly what I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You shifted as he found a new angle, pushing even deeper inside of you. “Yes, God, Minho, harder.”

“Such a whore.” He pulled his fingers out so he could drag you down on the couch, prompting a whine from you as his fingers coated with your own wetness met your thigh. He started fucking you again with them, the new angle allowing him a ferocity that had been contained before. Strands of his hair fell down around his face as he fucked you, his eyes raking up and down your body. Their weight made it feel like there were almost scratch marks in their wake, and you wished he’d do that to you next: scrape and mark up your body until every inch of you belonged to him.

“There something you want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Just was thinking it’d be nice to have some marks.”

“Oh, is this not enough for you?” He punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars. “You want me to mark you up, too?”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“Greedy slut.” He sighed. “You always want more, don’t you?” With the hand not currently wrecking your hole, he scraped lightly down your side.

“Harder, please?”

“Jesus.” You could hear the eye roll, but he obliged, digging scratches into you.

Your mouth fell open from the sensations. “Fuck, Minho!”

“Too hard?” He smirked.

“No, it was just— God, I’m going to come.”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

“I’m close, don’t stop, Minho, please don’t— fuck!”

Minho’s nails dug into your side as you came, the pain making it even more delicious as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

You opened your eyes, and Minho was smiling at you. “Good?”

“Yeah, fuck, that was so good.” You threw an arm over your eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well, our food isn’t here yet, so we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” Minho’s eyes were big with false sympathy.

“Oh, no, I think we are.” You nodded. “How horrible.”

“Horrible indeed.” He agreed before starting to moving his fingers again.

[luvfae]

CENTRE STAGE

summary: you’re thanos favourite backup dancer, the catch? you don’t want him. well… you like to pretend you don’t.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: this is a long one, smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, choking, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy), swearing

The bass reverberated through the stadium, shaking the floor beneath your feet. You moved with the beat, body fluid, perfectly in sync with the other dancers. It was muscle memory at this point—hours of grueling rehearsals had carved the choreography into your bones.

And then there was Thanos.

Center stage. Soaking up the spotlight like he was born in it.

You weren’t blind—you knew he was attractive. Tall, sharp jawline, dark eyes that glinted with mischief and something more dangerous underneath. His presence was undeniable, the kind of charisma that made people lose their minds over him.

But you weren’t one of those people.

Which was why, when he shot you a cocky smirk mid-performance, you rolled your eyes and looked away.

You missed the slight falter in his steps.

Backstage was chaos. Sweat, adrenaline, the quick shuffle of dancers moving between costume changes. You were peeling off your jacket when you felt someone step into your space.

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?”

You turned, already knowing who it was.

Thanos stood in front of you, arms crossed, a glistening sheen of sweat on his forehead. His shirt clung to him, damp with exertion, and he smelled like expensive cologne and stage lights.

You raised a brow. “Which position? Because if you mean backup dancing, I worked my ass off to be here.”

His smirk widened. “I meant being this close to me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, my mistake. Guess I should start trembling.”

His smile faltered for a second, just a flicker, before he leaned in slightly. “Most girls do.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Poor things.”

His eyes darkened, scanning your face like he was trying to figure you out. Like he was waiting for the moment you’d break and melt for him like everyone else did.

You didn’t.

“Not interested?” he mused, voice lower now, intrigued.

“Not even a little bit.”

A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

He huffed a laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Alright. Cool. I like a challenge.”

You turned to leave, but before you could, he caught your wrist—lightly, not enough to force you, but enough to make you pause.

“You should probably know,” he said, voice softer now, a little more serious, “I always get what I want.”

You looked at him, at the smug confidence in his face, and smirked.

“Not this time, superstar.”

And then you pulled away.

He let you go, watching as you walked off, and for the first time in his life—

Thanos realized he was the one being left wanting.

—

He had you switched the next day.

You saw it on the rehearsal schedule. Your name, suddenly paired with his for the partner sections of the choreography.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. Unbelievable.

When you walked onto the stage, Thanos was already waiting.

“You’re a child,” you told him flatly.

He grinned. “I’m resourceful.”

“You had me switched out just so you could put your hands on me?”

He shrugged. “Now you’re getting it.”

You crossed your arms. “You know, normal people just ask someone out when they’re interested.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, but normal people also get rejected.”

You scoffed. “Which is exactly what’s happening right now.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Yeah? Then why are you still standing here?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

Damn him.

Damn his stupid, arrogant, cocky ass.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes, the split second of uncertainty, and he fucking grinned.

“Relax,” he murmured, dragging a slow gaze down your body. “Let’s just dance.”

You exhaled through your nose, glaring. “Fine. But if you get handsy, I’m kneeing you in the balls.”

He laughed. “Noted.”

The music kicked in, bass heavy, vibrating through the soles of your shoes. You forced yourself to focus, rolling your shoulders, letting the beat settle into your body.

You had done this a million times before—picked up new choreography, adjusted to new formations, worked around whatever ridiculous creative decisions the higher-ups made. But this?

This was different.

Because now you had to dance around Thanos like he was some untouchable god, like he was the center of gravity and you were just one of his planets orbiting him.

And he knew it.

The smug bastard was eating it up.

“Alright,” the choreographer called. “Let’s take it from the top—Y/N, remember, you’re leading this section now. The energy needs to be different, more intense. It’s about power and temptation.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.

Power and temptation.

Great.

You got into position, your back to Thanos as the music restarted. Your movements were sharp, precise, every beat landing exactly where it needed to. You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, but you ignored it—until the routine called for you to step into him.

You turned, moving into position, only for him to place his hands on your waist a second too early.

Too early, and definitely not necessary.

Your breath hitched. You felt his fingers, warm through the thin material of your top, his touch firm—possessive.

“Timing,” you snapped, twisting out of his grip.

His lips curled. “Felt right to me.”

You exhaled sharply. “Try again. And keep your hands where they’re supposed to be.”

He didn’t.

The next section had you circling him, tracing the shape of his body with your own, never touching but close enough to tease. It was supposed to be a push and pull, a careful balance of restraint and tension.

Except Thanos had no restraint.

Every time you moved past him, he found some excuse to touch you—a palm sliding over the small of your back, fingertips grazing your hip, knuckles brushing against your stomach. None of it was in the choreography.

And it was pissing you off.

Not because you didn’t like it.

Because you did.

And that made it worse.

You gritted your teeth, pressing forward with the routine, trying to pretend you weren’t hyperaware of his every move, his every breath.

Then came the final part—the part where you were supposed to sink against him, his arm wrapping around you, bodies molding together as the music reached its climax.

He pulled you in.

Too close.

Closer than necessary.

You felt his breath against your ear, his chest solid against your back, his grip firm like he was daring you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Not immediately, anyway.

“Problem?” he murmured, voice low.

You swallowed, heat licking up your spine. “Yeah. You don’t know how to follow a damn routine.”

He chuckled, his breath warm. “Or maybe I just don’t like rules.”

You twisted in his arms, pushing against his chest, forcing space between you. “Try following them for once, superstar. Or find yourself another dance partner.”

His gaze flickered with something dark. Something hungry.

Then, slowly, he smirked.

“No,” he said. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Your stomach flipped.

You scowled, shoving him harder this time, ignoring the way your pulse hammered in your throat.

“Do your job,” you warned, stepping back. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Thanos just grinned.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.” He tapped his chest, smirking. “Star of the show.” Then, with a slow, deliberate glance, he pointed at you. “Backup dancer.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, rolling your eyes as you stepped back into position. Fine. If he wanted your attention so damn badly, he was going to regret it.

You had a new mission now: Make this the worst dance of his life.

The music started up again, and you turned your smirk into something sultry, something playful. If he wanted you dancing around him like he was a god, you’d do it—but you’d do it on your terms.

Every movement became sharper, more exaggerated. You dragged your fingertips across his chest when you were only supposed to graze past him. Your hips swayed a little too deliberately, your gaze lingering just a second too long. You danced around him like a tease, like a challenge, like you knew exactly what he wanted and were dangling it just out of reach.

And Thanos noticed.

His smirk faltered. His jaw tightened.

He was good at playing it cool, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed every time your body got too close.

So you pushed it further.

At a part where you were supposed to circle around him, you let your breath fan over his neck, close enough that he could feel the heat of it. When he placed his hand on your waist—because of course he did, even though it wasn’t in the damn routine—you leaned into it just enough to make it seem deliberate before slipping away.

His grip tightened before he let go.

Good.

By the time the song ended, you were barely holding back a smirk. You could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way he adjusted his stance like his pants were suddenly too tight.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” the choreographer clapped, beaming. “That was the energy we needed! Y/N, you nailed it—flirtatious, powerful, you owned that stage.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feigning innocence. “Oh? Just following directions.”

Thanos shot you a look, half-amused, half-something darker. He licked his lips, stepping closer, voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna play it like that, huh?”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him with faux sweetness. “Play what?”

His fingers brushed against your hip—not part of the routine, again. His voice dropped even lower, a husky whisper against your ear.

“Careful, sweetheart. Keep this up, and I won’t just be touching you for show.”

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let him see it. You stepped back, letting your smirk break free as you walked away.

—

The bass thrummed beneath your feet as you stepped onto the stage, the roar of the crowd nearly deafening. Bright lights, pulsing music, energy crackling in the air—showtime.

You had spent the entire day learning new choreography, perfecting every movement, every step, every fucking touch. And now? Now it was time to perform.

And him?

Thanos was already watching you like a predator.

You felt his gaze before you even looked at him. The heat of it. The weight. And when you finally did look, you swore you could see the exact moment he realized he was fucked.

Because his jaw clenched. His eyes darkened. His tongue flicked out over his lips, slow and deliberate.

Yeah. He was done for.

You weren’t even doing anything yet—just walking into position in your tiny black shorts and your cropped tank that rode up every time you so much as took a breath.

His gaze dragged over your bare legs, over the slope of your waist, over the sliver of skin just above your waistband. Lingering.

And then he laughed—low, under his breath—but you caught it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, just for himself.

Your lips twitched. Got him.

The music kicked in, and suddenly, you were moving. The energy of the crowd fueled you, the beat guiding you. Every motion was sharper, smoother, more deliberate.

And Thanos?

He was distracted.

Distracted by the way your body twisted and rolled, by the way your hands skimmed over your own thighs, by the way you met his gaze with something daring in your eyes.

He was supposed to be the star of the show.

But right now? Right now, it was you.

By the time the first chorus hit, you had made your way over to him, dancing around him like you were made to, your hands ghosting over his shoulders, his chest—only to pull away at the last second, teasing, tempting.

And he hated it.

Hated it because he wanted more.

You could tell by the way he reacted. How he leaned in, how his hands twitched to touch you, how his breathing hitched when you got a little too close.

So, naturally, you pushed it.

When his hand landed on your waist you let him feel you for just a second before spinning away.

The smirk on his face faltered for a half-second. And then he recovered, shaking his head, chuckling under his breath like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Like you were the one who had the upper hand.

And when the song ended, when the stage went dark for the next set change, he wasted zero time grabbing your wrist and pulling you against him.

Your chest heaved, breath still uneven from the performance. “Am I throwing you off?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—just enough to make you feel it.

He leaned in, voice low, rough. “Not even close.”

His gaze dropped, flickering to your lips, down your throat, lingering at the band of your shorts

Your pulse jumped.

But you refused to let it show. Instead, you tilted your head, lashes fluttering as you murmured, “Didn’t think so.”

His jaw flexed. A slow inhale through his nose. A flick of his tongue over his teeth.

And then—the stage lights flashed back on, bathing everything in a blinding glow.

Your smirk deepened as you slipped just out of reach.

—

The moment the show ended, you vanished. You didn’t stick around to let him come find you. You were done with the game for now—just another part of the routine. You didn’t owe him anything, especially after how he’d been acting on stage.

You’d slipped back to your dressing room, changed quickly, and made your way to your hotel room, not once looking back. He wouldn’t find you so easily.

But that wasn’t the Thanos you knew.

An hour later, there was a knock on your hotel door. Soft at first, then louder, more insistent. Each thud felt like it was pounding through your skull. You held your breath, hoping he’d go away, but you knew he wouldn’t.

You hesitated, trying to keep calm as you made your way to the door. Slowly, you turned the handle, peeking through the crack just enough to see his tall figure standing there, staring you down with that dark, intense gaze that you knew was enough to melt any woman—except for you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice cold and flat.

He didn’t waste a second. The door was shoved open as he forced his way past you, his body towering over yours, blocking any chance of escape.

“You think you can just disappear like that?” he growled, his voice raw with frustration. “You think I won’t come after you?”

You crossed your arms, trying to remain unfazed. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to follow me.”

His eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, you saw the dangerous fire in them—something you’d only caught glimpses of before.

“You really think that?” he said, voice low and steady now, each word coming with a weight that was unmistakable. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away, let you treat me like some damn game?”

“You’re the one making it a game,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m just playing along. Didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.”

He took a step closer, and your back hit the wall, a tiny gasp escaping your lips. You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“You think this is just a game to me?” His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, his fingers tightening until it almost hurt. “What the fuck do you think you’ve been doing to me all this time?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. “I’m not your fucking toy, Thanos,” you said, each word laced with challenge.

His lips curled into a half-smirk, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You might not be, but you’re sure as hell mine right now.”

“You’re a womanizer,” you hissed, pushing against his chest in a futile attempt to make him back off. “What makes you think I’d let you have me? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean I’ll let you fuck me, you freak.”

He smirked, his hands brushing along your side with that infuriating confidence that made you want to rip his arrogance right off his face.

“Really?” he murmured, his lips curling into that taunting grin you were so damn familiar with. “Tell me to leave then.”

You stared up at him, your chest heaving, pulse quickening with the tension between you. He was close—too close—and you were burning under the weight of his stare, but you didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. You couldn’t fight it any longer.

Instead, your hands fisted his shirt, tugging him down to you. Your lips collided with his in a desperate, hungry kiss, more forceful than anything you’d ever let yourself give before.

You hated him for making you want him. You hated how his arrogance seemed to draw you in even more. But as much as you fought it, you couldn’t deny the heat flooding your body, the way he made you feel alive—even if it meant giving in to all the things you knew you shouldn’t want.

His response was immediate, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced your lips before sliding in, taking control in that way he always did, and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding, from giving in.

When he pulled away, his breath ragged, his face was inches from yours, his lips swollen and glistening from the kiss. “Knew you wanted it,” he said, voice low and rough.

Your chest tightened. You should’ve said something. Should’ve pushed him away, but the truth was, you didn’t want to. Not now. Not with the way your body was burning from the inside out.

He moved his hands down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. You were left standing in front of him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and for a moment, you hated how exposed you felt.

But then his hands were on your skin again, hot and possessive, trailing over your bare body, making you shiver as he kissed along your neck, his lips grazing your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And suddenly, all those reservations you’d had, all those walls you’d put up, seemed to disappear into the haze of lust and want.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, and you didn’t have to say a word. He could see it in your eyes—the same hunger, the same need.

Before you knew it, he had you flat against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed into you, his lips back on yours with a fierce urgency. And you didn’t fight it. Not this time.

He broke away for a moment, his voice rough, but controlled. “Tell me you want this. Say it.”

Your hands ran up his chest, your nails scraping over his skin as you tugged him back down. “I want you,” you murmured, your voice laced with that desperate edge he’d been waiting for. “Kiss me.”

Thanos didn’t hesitate. The second the words left your mouth, his lips crashed into yours again, all teeth and heat and raw desperation. His hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, fingers digging into your thighs as he pressed his body flush against yours.

You felt everything—the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the unmistakable hardness between his legs as he ground against you, making you gasp into his mouth.

His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, gripping your thighs as he lifted you higher against the wall. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his purple, sweat-dampened hair, tugging just enough to hear him groan.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged, his fingers digging into your skin. "You drive me fucking insane, you know that?"

You smirked, pressing your forehead against his. "Yeah? And whose fault is that?"

His laugh was low, dark, full of something dangerous. His grip on you tightened, and in one swift motion, he carried you across the room, dropping you onto the hotel bed with a smirk of his own.

"Mine," he admitted, voice rough as he hovered over you, his gaze raking over your body like he was memorizing every inch. "Because I should've had you the moment you rolled your eyes at me."

Your heart pounded, heat pooling between your thighs as he pressed a knee between them, teasing, testing. "And now?" you challenged, breathless.

He tilted his head, watching you with that arrogant, knowing smirk. "Now?" His fingers traced the waistband of your shorts, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to make you squirm. "Now I don't plan on stopping."

You arched your back as his lips trailed down your throat, his hands exploring, claiming, making it clear that this wasn't just some meaningless hookup to him.

This was a warning.

A promise.

A fucking declaration.

And god help you, you wanted all of it.

“You still think I’m a womanizer?” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

You arched into him, biting back a whimper as his teeth scraped over your pulse point. “You’re still a cocky bastard.”

He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Maybe,” he admitted, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “But you like it.”

You did. And that pissed you off.

You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “Shut up and fuck me.”

His eyes darkened.

“Gladly.”

Thanos kissed you like he was trying to consume you, like he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your body. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise.

You gasped as he flipped you over, pressing you into the mattress with his body. “You act so fucking tough,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “But I see right through you.”

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands slipping beneath your shorts, fingertips burning against your bare skin. He pulled your pants down your legs, his eyes dark as he took you in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand down your spine before yanking your panties off in one swift motion. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I met you. Walking around in those fucking short. The bane of my existence, babe.”

Your breath hitched when he trailed his fingers between your legs, teasing, taking his time just to watch you squirm.

“Thanos—”

He forced your face to the side, silencing you with a kiss, swallowing your moans as he pushed his fingers inside you, moving slow, deliberate, dragging out every reaction he could get.

“Look at you,” he groaned, lips brushing against your jaw. “So fucking wet for me.”

You hated how easy this was for him—how he could unravel you with just a touch, just a look. You wanted to fight him, to push back, to pretend you were still in control.

But then he slid his fingers out, flipping you onto your back, replacing them with his tongue, and all coherent thought disappeared.

You arched off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair as he pinned your hips down, keeping you exactly where he wanted. His name left your lips in a broken moan, your body trembling beneath him as he devoured you like he was starving.

And he didn’t stop. Not even when you came, not even when you tried to push him away, too sensitive, too overwhelmed. He just held you there, dragging you through another wave of pleasure until you were a gasping, shaking mess beneath him.

Only then did he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, voice rough as he unbuckled his belt, letting his jeans drop to the floor.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on top of you again, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing, making you whine in frustration.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he demanded, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

You swallowed hard, pride clashing with desperation. You wanted to make him beg. You wanted to be the one in control.

But then he pushed in just an inch, stretching you open, making your head fall back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck—Thanos, please.”

That was all it took.

He thrust into you in one smooth motion, making you cry out, your nails digging into his back. He was thick, stretching you in a way that left you gasping for air, but he didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace from the start, fucking into you like he was trying to break you.

And maybe he was.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, biting down on your shoulder as he slammed into you over and over, pulling out just enough to make you desperate before driving back in. “So fucking tight, taking me so well.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your walls clenching around him as pleasure coiled in your stomach. You didn’t care about control anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way he felt inside you, stretching you, ruining you.

“Thanos—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he groaned, his grip tightening on your hips, his thrusts growing rougher. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

And you did. Hard. Your body clenched around him as you cried out his name, pleasure crashing over you in waves. But he wasn’t done. He fucked you through your orgasm, his pace relentless, chasing his own release.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Thanos had you on your knees, pressing your chest against the mattress with a firm hand on your back. His other hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned himself behind you.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he murmured, running his palm over the curve of your ass before delivering a sharp smack that made you gasp. “Made to be fucked.”

You shivered, anticipation making your whole body tense. He spread you open, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing, making you whimper.

“Thanos—I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. Your body was spent, trembling, overstimulated beyond reason. You had already come three times—three, and yet he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Yes, you can,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dark, coaxing, dripping with lust. His fingers stroked lazy circles over your clit, making you jolt, your body betraying you despite the desperate plea on your lips. “Just one more. For me.”

“I—”

He didn’t let you finish. With one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide, forcing your body to take all of him. A strangled moan ripped from your throat as he bottomed out, his fingers tightening on your hips.

"You can take it," he whispered, kissing the side of your neck as he fucked you right past your limits. "I know you can."

You couldn’t muster up a single word, instead you sobbed in pleasure and pain. You were so overstimulated, but fuck, it felt so good.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, rolling his hips, making you feel every inch of him. “You like this, don’t you? Being bent over, fucked like you belong to me.”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But then he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace that had you gripping the sheets, struggling to stay upright.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your walls fluttering around him. “I love it.”

“That’s my girl.”

He fucked you harder, his grip bruising, his thrusts deep and relentless. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with the ragged moans you couldn’t hold back.

One of his hands slid around to your front, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling beneath him.

“You gonna come for me again?” he growled, his other hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you back against his chest as he fucked into you. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

You couldn’t hold back. With a sharp cry, you came undone, your body tightening around him, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Thanos groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. He slammed into you one last time before spilling inside you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head spin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled, your breaths heavy. Then he leaned in, pressing a rough kiss to your shoulder.

"I hope I didn’t ruin you," he murmured.

But he had. Completely.

—

The next morning, you woke up sore in the best way possible, tangled in expensive hotel sheets that smelled like him. The space next to you was empty, but the indent in the mattress was still warm.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. Fuck. What the hell did you just do?

The sound of the bathroom door opening made you jolt upright. Thanos emerged, towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water sliding down his chest. He caught your gaze and smirked.

“Morning, señorita,” he drawled.

You scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair as he walked over to the bed. “You’re grumpy in the morning. Cute.”

You glared at him. “You should leave.”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Then he recovered, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. “You sure about that?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure at all.

Thanos watched you carefully, reading every flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You hated that about him—how easily he could see through you.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. “Yeah,” you said, but your voice wasn’t as sharp as you wanted it to be. “I’m sure.”

A beat of silence. Then, he exhaled a quiet laugh. “Liar.”

Your jaw clenched. “Thanos—”

“You’re gonna pretend last night didn’t happen?” He tilted his head, voice low and taunting. “Or just pretend you didn’t love every fucking second of it?”

Heat crept up your neck, shame and frustration tangling together in a way that made you feel sick. You didn’t answer, just pulled the sheets tighter around yourself.

Thanos clicked his tongue, his fingers brushing your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “I’ll go,” he murmured, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “For now.”

Your breath caught. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, leaning in just enough that his lips ghosted over yours. “You’ll see.”

Then, before you could say another word, he was gone.

You sat there, staring at the door long after it clicked shut, your pulse hammering in your throat.

Fuck.

You had a terrible, sinking feeling that this wasn’t over. Not even close.

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Fuck 388.

Warning : death mention

Genre : angst

Synopsis : “Thanos is in a relationship with the reader, but during the game they become very distant, the reader votes for X and moves to another group, maybe he even became close friends with Dae-Ho. How do you think Thanos would respond?” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : bold is in English // pt.1 420.

Despite your choice, when everyone had voted, you walked back to your boyfriend, ready for him to annoy you for choosing X.

And it didn’t miss.

“I have no problem with you choosing X, we can still play the games together, you’re in my team forever, but why did you choose X ? Huh ?”

“So you’re not totally okay with it.” You pointed out.

“I am !”

“No you’re not, stop lying.” You said in a singsong voice, trying to not show your annoyance.

He sighed.

“You have debts, right ? That’s why you’re here. Does 20 million suffice you ? With another game you could have way more. Debt free and maybe even rich !”

You just hummed, no longer wanting to participate in the conversation.

“What would you do with 45.6 billion ?”

“Get away from you.” You replied without looking at him, searching for 388.

“Ah, don’t say that.” He moved his hand to pat your head but you dodged it. “Stop being so-”

“Being so what ?” You glared at him. “Mad about nearly dying because of someone I trust ?”

He looked at you silently before sighing.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know.”

“I never-”

“I know.” You said a bit louder, hoping he’ll get the memo to leave you alone.

He pouted, upset, but didn’t bother you anymore.

Then, a group of circles came in with small boxes of food, asking you to get in line to get your portion.

Thanos was sitting next to you, mixing the yolk of his fried egg with his rice and slices of fish sausages. Namgyu and him were talking back and forth about MG Coin and the money he made them lose until you suddenly stood up and walked away.

“You’re not gonna eat it ?” He asked, taking the small box in his hand to point to your untouched egg. You didn’t reply.

He shrugged, separating the yolk from the white and adding it to his mixture.

On the other side of the room, 388 kept yelling “Ay !” each time 390 hit his arm. You wondered, amused, if they were doing okay, standing a bit to the side, waiting for them to be finished.

That’s when 001 noticed you.

“Can we help you ?” He asked, tilting his head, the group’s focus shifting to you.

“Huh…” You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard, before turning to 388. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Thank you so much !”

You were about to bow but 388 rushed to you, stopping you from properly thanking him.

“Ah, no need to bow, really. I just-” The tip of his fingers gently tapped your arm. “I just did what I had to do- Couldn’t stand there and let it happen…” He added with a light chuckle.

You wanted to argue back but 390 spoke before you.

“You saved him ?” He asked, pointing at you.

“Yeah, my boyfriend pushed me right before a red light. I tripped and he caught me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” You said, smiling at 388. “Thank you.”

“Your boyfriend ?” 390 repeated, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yes.” You replied without thinking, before realizing this place could be far from being a safe space.

Everyone stared at you as you smiled awkwardly.

“Are you two gonna be okay ?” 388 asked quietly after a moment of silence.

You looked over your shoulder, eyeing Thanos and Namgyu still talking.

“Yeah.” You frowned, an evident lie. “Everything’s fine.” You gave him two thumbs up. “Totally doesn’t wanna kill him a little bit.”

“He… pushed you ?” 456 slowly asked. “Voluntarily ?”

You nodded.

“Yeah. Well-” You sighed. “He didn’t know that was me.” You flashed them another awkward smile.

Silence.

“And you’re still calling him your boyfriend ?” 001 finally asked. Both curious and slightly impressed. People generally break up after a situation like this.

You nodded, giving him a shrug.

“I’m alive so… Mh.”

390 scoffed, turning around to look at Thanos as he whispered something about today’s youth.

“Can I stay with you, though ?” You asked, fidgeting with your fingers, smiling weakly. “Don’t really wanna hang with him at the moment. And he voted O, so… I know he’s gonna spend the rest of his time here pressuring me into voting O as well.”

001 and 388 looked down at their chests, and that’s when you noticed their blue patches.

“Well, I mean, like…” You cracked your knuckles, chuckling nervously.

“It’s okay.” Said 388. “We’re not gonna force you to vote O.” He laughed, patting your back. “Right ?”

“No.” Smiled 001, scooting to the side to give you a place to sit.

While you presented yourself to the group, thanking them for accepting to take you in, Thanos was scowling, quickly understanding you wanted to spend time away from him.

Though he knew you loved him and stubbornly kept showing him your affection despite everything, there was now a nagging thought that maybe you could get a change of heart because of 388. Just because he happened to save your life after one little mistake.

That asshole was acting like a prince in shining armor.

Then Namgyu pulled him out of his thoughts, wanting to pay MG Coin a courtesy visit. Thanos quickly hummed, gladly accepting anything that’d take his mind off of you and what happened. He stood up, following him.

“That crypto ruined my life too.” 333 replied to Namgyu. “That’s why I’m here, to make money.”

“That’s right.” Thanos said, facing him. “You better make a lot of money. Because of that damn coin I lost over 500 million won, the money I earned from busting my ass rapping.”

“I lost 300 million.” Added Namgyu.

“You better win the games and make loads of money to pay us back.”

“I get it. Can you go away now ? I’m trying to eat-” Myunggi replied frustrated as Namgyu took his food.

“You little shit, eating like a fucking pig.”

“Give it back.”

“No.”

Thanos took the small box from Namgyu’s hands.

“You want to eat this so badly ?” He asked, smiling. “Then Thanos will feed you.”

He grabbed a handful of rice before slapping it on Myunggi’s face as the man yelped, disgusted.

“Good, isn’t it ?” Thanos laughed before Myunggi threw himself on him, the two falling on the floor loudly as they cursed.

You and the group you were with quickly noticed them. You sighed, rubbing your forehead, too tired to want to deal with it. You closed your eyes, maybe if you ignored it, it would go away ?

“It’s good to be young. They still have the energy to do that.” You heard Daeho say.

“He might get really hurt. Someone should stop them.” Jungbae added.

“I know… me ?”

But right as he said that you felt someone stand up next to you. Youngil.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime ?” He asked. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners. And two against one ? Aren’t you embarrassed ?”

You listened as Thanos and Youngil spoke for a brief moment. Then you heard people gasp. You looked through your fingers, seeing Youngil holding Thanos by the throat, Namgyu on the floor holding his leg, visibly in pain.

Oh.

Thanos walked back to him after Youngil had released him, only to be punched in the chest and stomach before grabbing his arm and twisting it. You could hear it crack from where you were.

Oh fuck.

Youngil was now above your boyfriend, strangling him and ready to punch him again. You hated Thanos at the moment but you still didn’t want him to actually die.

“Oh my- God- Damn. Youngil !” You called, quickly standing up to rush to them, nearly tripping on your way down. Shit, shit, shit. “Please, excuse him.” You approached them, rubbing your hands in a begging manner as Thanos looked at you as if to tell you to fucking do something.

“I’m sorry.” He said weakly, struggling to speak as he patted the man’s wrist, looking back at him.

“Please, Youngil. He’s not in his right mind.” You pleaded, falling to your knees. You wanted to grab his hand to stop him but feared it would only make things worse.

“Please…” Thanos squeezed his eyes shut. Was it how he’s gonna die ? “Let me go...”

After a few long seconds, Youngil finally released him, slowly standing back up as people applauded him.

You let out a relieved sigh, Thanos coughing as you placed your hands on him to help him sit up.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, rubbing your boyfriend’s back. “It won’t happen again.”

Youngil gave you a look, visibly not understanding why you were with that manchild.

He walked away as you rested your forehead against Thanos’ shoulder.

“Fucking scared me.” You mumbled.

As Thanos recovered, you gently gave the back of his head a slap.

“Don’t do it again.” You said, helping him stand up. “Don’t want your stupid ass to die.”

Thanos said nothing, rubbing his throat as he looked at Youngil sitting back with 456.

Slowly everyone went back to what they were doing, minding their own business.

Namgyu sighed, head resting against the wall as he quietly cursed Youngil.

Thanos was chewing his cheeks, one hand rubbing where he had been punched, thinking.

“Why were you with them ?” He suddenly asked, pointing toward the group you previously were with.

“Because Daeho saved my life. And I didn’t wanna-”

“Daeho ? So you know his name ?”

You looked at him silently before replying.

“I went to thank him and we exchanged names.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s basic decency to know the name of the one you owe your life to, no ?”

He scoffed, leaning back against the wall.

“Are you jealous ?” You asked, looking at him.

“No.”

That was a lie. Your attention was on another person and he was not a fan of it.

“Good, then.” You replied with a nod, noticing your small bento-like box they had given you earlier. “Did you eat my egg yolk ?”

“I asked you but you didn't reply.” He shrugged.

You sighed slowly. Today really was a long and bad day.

Nighttime came and Namgyu climbed to his bed a few minutes before the lights were off. You stood up to do the same, but Thanos stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“Where are you going ?”

“My bed.”

“No you’re not.” He replied, pulling on your arm. You sighed. It’s true you haven’t slept alone in a long time and got used to having him next to you. And it was evident Thanos felt the same. But you were still insanely mad at him. “Come on, I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know, you’ve said it a thousand times already.”

“Because it’s true ! How many time will I have to-”

“If I accept to sleep with you will you shut up ?” You cut him off. He smiled, letting go of your wrist with a nod. “Then scoot the fuck away, these bed are small as shit.”

As the lights were off for what seemed a good while, you quietly turned around, facing your boyfriend. You thought he was already out, since he’s usually fast asleep.

He almost made you jump when you heard him whisper.

“Did you tell them I pushed you ?”

“Daeho’s team ? Yeah.”

“Why ?!” He whisper-yelled. “Are you really that mad to send someone after me ?”

“What ?” You said a bit too loudly before lowering your voice again. “Yes I’m that mad but no he didn’t go after you because of me. The topic came up because they wondered why I was thanking Daeho. You got your ass handed to you because of your own damn self. You really know how to piss people off.”

There was silence. You could tell Thanos was scowling.

“Are you gonna sleep now or piss me off ?” You asked.

“Why didn’t you try to stop your friend harder than that ? I could’ve died. It’s fine when I almost meet death but not when it’s you ?”

Enough.

“Fuck you.” You stood up, and walked away before climbing to your bed, ignoring Thanos calling you.

Morning came way too soon, music playing through the speakers as a voice announced the imminent start of the second game.

You all followed each other until you reached a large room, two colored circles on the ground as a voice welcomed you for the game.

“This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes.” Said the voice before repeating itself.

You walked around, searching for people to team up with until you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Babe, you’re gonna team up with us, right ? Team Thanos. ” He asked, making you turn around. He had Namgyu and some other guy with them.

“Are you serious ?” You looked at him, unamused. “No.”

“Ah, come on, stop being so mad at me ! You’re not gonna find 4 people to play with you.”

“Fucking watch me, then.” You replied, walking away. You already knew who you could join. But when you found them, it seemed like you were too late.

There was a young girl with them, anxiously holding her belly. Daeho noticed you quickly.

“Ah, we’re sorry [Name]. I thought- we thought you were gonna team up with your boyfriend.” He said, looking at you with an apologetical face, visibly upset to see you still didn’t have a team.

“Oh. Yeah. Well.” You shrugged, unsure of what to reply. “It’s fine, not gonna fight her over it. I’ll find another team.” You said with a nod, already walking away.

“Good luck !” You heard him say, you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

“You too !”

Now you were beginning to stress. You refused to play with Thanos and the team you could’ve been with had already found their fifth partner.

Thanos eyed you from time to time, wanting to make sure you’d find a team by the end of the 10 minutes.

“So are you accepting us or not ?” Asked 380.

He nodded, making a sign with his hands.

“Of course.”

Slowly, you managed to find yourself a team. Though you found it a little bit funny as you were in the same group as Myunggi.

“I’m sorry for his behavior.” You had told him, lowering your head. “Can’t promise he’ll be off your back.”

He scoffed. Of course, he already knew it.

You watched anxiously as the first two teams got called, and got their feet handcuffed together.

You swallowed thickly, eyeing the timer every ten seconds. They could make it. They could make it. They could make it.

They didn’t make it.

You grimaced as the 10 of them got shot, fearing for your life once more. You rubbed the X on your chest, trying to get some luck out of it and hoping that next time, more people would vote X and you’d go home.

The following teams succeeded together, reassuring you just a bit. This was possible. You sighed, grabbing the person’s arm next to you for a small celebration as he clapped and cheered for the winning teams.

Later came yours and Thanos’ turn, each team going at the start of the circle.

Though you knew it was possible to win, you were anxious. You didn’t know your team members except one, vaguely. You had to trust them and their ability in succeeding each game.

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting to stress about yours and Thanos’ life. He could make it, he seemed confident, or more accurately, not worried about it, not caring about what was at stake. You hoped this mindset would help him.

You focused on remembering how you played gonggi, trying to wake up your muscle memory.

You cracked your wrists and knuckles, focusing, relaxing. No one was here but you and your friends. No one would die.

You squatted down, sighing slowly to exhale all anxiety inducing thoughts.

Swiftly you threw the rocks, no longer breathing, too focused on them to do both.

“Breathe, idiot ! Do you want us to die ?!” Yelled Myunggi, noticing your red face as the five rocks rested on the back of your hand. You were so close, you couldn’t fail now.

“Shut up.” You replied, breathing shakily again.

You threw your hand up, the rocks flying in the air before quickly grabbing them all. You froze, not daring to look up at the masked man who made an O with his arms.

“Success.”

You nearly fell back in shock, your teammates stopping you from doing so by pulling you up to walk to the next game.

You blacked out while the man to your right played spinning top, your mind fuzzing like a static TV screen. It’s on your way down the corridors that you came back to your senses, Thanos talking your ears off about how cool his team was.

“Minsu was so good at gonggi, like-” He said, making whooshing sounds and moving his hand in the air as if he was playing the game right now. “And Namsu’s knee kept hitting mine like a metronome.” He added, laughing, his legs now shaking to imitate Namgyu.

“Huh ?”

“It was so fun, wasn’t it ?”

You didn’t reply. Fun wasn’t really how you had perceived it.

“What game did you play ?”

“Gonggi.”

“Ah !” He exclaimed as he hit your arm “I remember you used to play harder variants than the one we just did, right ? Must’ve been easy peasy.”

“Mh.”

“Are you still mad at me ? Is that why you’re being so dry ?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, I am still mad. But no, I’m dry because I don’t like being held at gunpoint.” You replied, feeling your anger build up again.

“What do I have to do to make you forgive me ?” He whined with a sigh.

“I don’t know !” You began to walk faster to put some distance between you two. “Maybe vote X that’ll help a bit ? Just an idea.”

“No way, I’m not leaving with only 20 million.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with angry ol’ me.” You heard him groan. “Or we could still break up. You won’t have to worry about my forgiveness.” You added with a wry smile. Tired of constantly having to explain your anger.

He froze, shocked. You wanted to break up ? He panicked for a second, before rushing back to your side.

“What ?! No way ! You’re stuck with me ! My boyfriend !” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, scared you would actually act on your words.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away before speeding again.

“Is it because of that guy ?!” He asked, speeding as well.

“Who ?”

“Daeho. Or whatever. You kept mentioning him.”

You turned around to look at him with a confused look.

“I only did when you asked me about him ? What the fuck are you on about ?”

“Because he saved your life !”

“Yeah, because you nearly ended it. Did you forget ?”

He said nothing, scowling, scratching the back of his neck.

“I told you I didn’t mean to.”

“And yet it happened.” You sighed. “I really think we should break up.” You added, walking away. “I’m tired.”

Thanos stared at you, unable to process what you just said. Break up ? With him ?

When you reached the lobby, you didn’t go straight to your bed like Thanos had thought you would, but instead went where 456 and his group were the day before. Waiting for them.

Time passed, leaving you time to think. Were you too harsh ? Should you have forgiven him ? Were you too resentful ? You still loved him but right now all you wanted was to be away from him. Put more space between you two than what the lobby allowed. And at the same time, you were glad he was still in the same room.

You heard the door open, Daeho and his team entering.

You smiled weakly at him, glad he had survived. You wouldn’t have to stay alone in a room full of already made up groups.

He sat next to you, sighing, exhausted.

“What did you play ?” You asked quietly as the others sat down as well.

“Gonggi.” He replied, wiggling his right hand.

“Oh, me too !” You both smiled, giggling together. “I’m glad you made it. I promise I’ll find a way to repay you when we get out of here.”

“Ah, no way.” He patted your back. “Just, sort things out with your boyfriend then maybe we’ll be even.”

“I uh, broke up with him.”

Daeho looked at you with a shocked expression, his smile dropping.

“Are you okay ?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a nervous laugh before looking down. You kinda felt sick.

Daeho rubbed your back, trying to comfort you, as Thanos watched with a sour face.

Fucking prick. Stealing his boyfriend.

He wanted to have a chat with him, but he was in 001’s team. He could definitely beat him up but not 001, but if that man came to die in a game, it’s on sight.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

notes; hello lovely people, here is the new chapter ! A bit longer than usual but let me tell you that this one is heavy (and I did cut some of it to put it in the next chapter because I was a bit scared that it would be too much for one chapter). Anyways I tried to do a fun chapter, well ... you guys will see with your own eyes that I always need to make things a bit dramatic (only a little °°333). I think it's really the chapter I enjoyed the most writing so far so I hope that you will enjoy reading it <3. See you all next week, love you <333

thank you again @ailoda for you post it made me freaking emotional <333

previous ✧

The warm glow of the living room lights filled the townhouse, casting a cozy ambiance over the gathered Inner Circle. It was dinner day, and the entire group—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Nesta and Mor—had joined you for an evening of food and conversation. It had been a few days since you went back home after the incident and  Feyre had personally come to you that afternoon to invite you, her warm insistence leaving little room to decline. You were drowing in your work trying not to give a thought to the bond and the fact that you hadn’t seen Azriel since. 

You’d opted for a simple yet comfortable outfit: wide, high-waisted black pants paired with a loose, long-sleeved blue top with a high collar. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the cool night air.

The room was alive with chatter and laughter, and you found yourself caught up in it, smiling despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. Cassian and Mor were on either side of you, bantering animatedly about Velaris nightlife.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to Rita's?” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“I think once when I was younger, but ever since never.” you replied, shrugging. “I’m too busy saving lives to hit up bars, apparently.”

“It’s not just a bar,” Mor interjected, her hands gesturing wildly as if to emphasize her point. “It’s the bar. Best drinks, best music, best people—it’s a Velaris institution.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning. “Mor’s right. Even Amren’s been there. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, smirking.

Mor wasn’t satisfied. She nudged your shoulder, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Come on. We’ll go together when you’re better.”

You chuckled. “Alright, but I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“When?” she pressed, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Next month, probably,” you answered, trying not to laugh at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Next month?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why next month?”

“Because next week, I’m going back to Windhaven,” you began, ticking the events off on your fingers. “Then I’ve got meetings with the priestesses, and then Starfall is coming, and after that—”

“Okay, okay!” Mor interrupted, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to have to kidnap you just to get you out for one night.”

You laughed openly this time, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll pencil you in when I can.”

Feyre approached then, her soft voice cutting through the lively banter. “Y/N, do you think you could join me for a painting class on Friday afternoon? And don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy with work.”

You raised a hand, pretending to look wounded. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I can’t make it—not because of work, though.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Then why?”

“It’s my weekly tea time with Madja,” you replied simply.

Cassian immediately perked up, his brows shooting up in interest. “Tea time with Madja?” he repeated, leaning forward with an amused grin. “That’s adorable. What do you two even talk about? Healer issues? New techniques?”

You swatted his arm lightly, shaking your head. “Hey! Just because I love my job doesn’t mean that’s all I talk about. We talk about... other things.”

“Like what?” Mor asked, smirking as she sipped her wine.

You tilted your head, feigning mystery. “That’s between me and Madja.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m picturing the two of you having a serious debate over tea about how to fix my dumbass when I inevitably crash into something.”

“Cassian,” Feyre interjected, rolling her eyes, “Y/N does far more important work than managing your antics.”

“Thank you,” you said to Feyre, giving Cassian a pointed look. “And for the record, Madja and I have very enlightening conversations. You’d be surprised how insightful she is about life in general.”

The group shared a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you let yourself relax. The lively chatter continued, shifting topics seamlessly as plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around. For once, you weren’t talking about healers’ matters or politics—you were just a part of the group, laughing and enjoying the moment. 

The peaceful hum of the room shifted the moment Elain entered, Lucien trailing just behind her. You were talking to Feyre and didn’t immediately notice the change in atmosphere until Rhysand’s voice broke through the casual chatter.

“Y/N,” Rhys said smoothly, gesturing toward the two newcomers, “allow me to introduce Lucien.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Lucien’s in a moment of mutual surprise. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The corners of Lucien’s mouth twitched into a small, amused smile, and he stepped forward to give you a brief hug.

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he replied lightly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of genuine warmth.

The room’s dynamic shifted again as Elain gravitated toward Azriel, who was leaning against the back of the couch. Lucien, perhaps instinctively or perhaps by choice, found his way to your side. The juxtaposition didn’t go unnoticed, though no one commented on it—at least not aloud.

You handed Nyx back to Feyre, who smiled gently at you, her expression tinged with curiosity as she glanced between you and Lucien.

“I take it you’ve met before?” Rhys prompted, his brow lifting slightly.

You nodded, still a little thrown by Lucien’s sudden presence. “Yes, we breafly met when I was in Autumn centuries ago.” you explained. “And then again in Spring—he arrived a few weeks before I left.”

“Small world,” Lucien said with a faint grin, though his sharp gaze flickered to Rhysand, ever aware of the High Lord’s looming presence.

The conversation meandered for a while, touching on casual topics. But then Lucien turned to you, his tone shifting slightly and quietly asked you. “I heard about the healer meeting in Dawn. Did you have a chance to speak with the head healer of Autumn?”

Your expression softened, though a shadow passed over your features. “I did,” you said, your voice quieter. “She’s doing better, don’t worry. But, very honestly, Lucien... she won’t be in her best shape if she stays in Autumn. It’s slowly killing her.”

The room stilled, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation—a gentle yet deliberate tug on your mind. It was the first time Rhys had ever used his abilities on you like this, and though it was unsettling, you allowed it, letting him in.

What was that about? his voice sounded in your mind, calm but edged with concern.

The High Lady of Autumn tried to kill herself, you replied, the words laced with quiet gravity. 

The thought landed heavily in Rhysand’s consciousness, and though his face betrayed nothing, you felt the ripple of shock that coursed through him.

Shit, he muttered in your mind, his tone uncharacteristically unsettled. Does Eris know?

Yes, you replied. He’s keeping it quiet, but it’s caused even more division within Autumn. The tension between him and Beron is... palpable.

Rhysand’s silence spoke volumes as he processed the information. You could feel his thoughts flickering through the implications, his strategic mind already piecing together the broader picture.

And what do you think? he finally asked, his tone quieter now.

I think she needs to leave Autumn. Rordan their head healer told me that Day might be an option. But it’s her decision to make, not ours.

Rhysand’s agreement hummed softly through your connection. Keep me updated on her situation—and anything else from Autumn.

You nodded slightly, breaking the mental link as Lucien’s voice drew your attention back to the room. “And do you think she’ll leave?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s her choice.”

Lucien sighed, his posture stiffening slightly. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

Though the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of what had been discussed lingered in your mind—and Rhysand’s—as an unspoken reminder of the cracks forming in Prythian’s foundation.

You turned to Lucien with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, by the way, Lila says hi.”

Lucien froze mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening in a mix of panic and exasperation. “No. Not her again,” he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Why does she still talk about me?”

You burst out laughing at his visible distress, the kind of laughter that left you breathless. The others turned their attention to you, curiosity lighting up their faces. Cassian raised a brow, leaning forward. “What’s so funny?”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just... let’s say that during the healer meeting at least the nights we spent talking with the girls, Lucien was a very… popular topic. Let’s just say Lila is quite taken with Lucien.”

“Taken?” Lucien interjected sharply, lifting his head to glare at you. “No, Y/N. Let’s call it what it is—obsessed. I am terrified of her.”

Rhysand, clearly amused, leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “What does she look like?”

You smirked, ready for the volley of descriptions. “Well, she looks like Tamlin—”

“But with boobs,” Lucien interjected, deadpan, cutting you off.

“And she’s short, like Amren,” you added, grinning as you gestured downward.

Lucien groaned again. “Short, running everywhere, and screaming.  Always screaming.”

You burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s an incredible healer. Honestly, one of my best students. But... she’s something, that’s for sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his temples. “Do you know about the closet incident?”

“Oh gods, yes!” You exclaimed, grinning wide. “That was hilarious when she told us about it. The way we had to make her drink for her to be able to admit it, but don’t dramatise everything Lucien it was just her way to show her affection right?” you looked at him amused.

“She tried to lock me in a closet to stop me from leaving the Spring Court Y/N?” 

"Well that sounds oddly familiar?” said Feyre looking at the booth of you. 

Cassian’s laugh echoed through the room. “What is it with Spring Court and locking people ? First Tamlin, now this?”

You nodded, struggling to suppress your laughter. “Apparently, she thought it was the only way to get him to ‘listen.’”

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Rhysand leaned back, still chuckling. “So, to sum it up: she’s like Tamlin, but with boobs, short like Amren, runs everywhere, and... locks people in closets.”

Cassian doubled over with laughter. “You’ve got to introduce me to this Lila. She sounds like a riot.”

Lucien glared at him. “You can take my place if you’re so curious, I’m sure she would love you.”

The room burst into laughter again, the lighthearted banter a welcome reprieve from the tensions that had been looming. Even Lucien couldn’t help but laugh, though his mortified expression lingered.

On the other side of the room, Azriel leaned against the couch, his shadows curling restlessly around him like dark, living whispers. His gaze lingered on you and Lucien, watching the way you laughed with an ease that felt almost foreign to him. You looked carefree, radiant even, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders. Lucien’s animated gestures and your bright laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease growing in Azriel’s chest.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t feel this way.

Azriel shifted slightly, trying to quiet the tumult within him. Elain was seated beside him, her delicate fingers brushing against his thigh in a silent question. He turned to her, her soft gaze meeting his, and he forced a small nod. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue.

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He had wanted to cross the room, to come and sit beside you, to feel that inexplicable comfort that always seemed to radiate from you when you were near. Now that he knew about the bond, everything felt more tangled, more painful. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, suffocating in its clarity. How could you sit there, so normal, so composed, when you had known about this bond for longer than he had?

The thought ate away at him. How had you managed to keep it hidden? How had you endured the ache of it, the pull, without letting it show?

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Elain briefly, guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He shifted subtly away from her, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Out of respect for Lucien, yes. Not that he’d cared before—but now, now he understood. He understood the quiet agony of seeing someone he cared about so deeply sitting with another. It twisted his insides in a way he hadn’t expected.

But it wasn’t just about respect. It was about you.

His shadows coiled tighter around him, reflecting the storm in his mind. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions that had overtaken him since discovering the bond. And the hardest part was the longing—to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel that connection that had only deepened with the knowledge of what you truly were to him.

You were laughing again, the sound clear and unguarded. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he craved until now, and it only added to his torment. The way you leaned slightly toward Lucien, your smile bright, as if there was no weight of a bond tethering you to him. As if he didn’t even exist.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting slightly as he glanced at the floor. He needed a moment, a reprieve from the chaos in his chest. From the knowledge that while you laughed with Lucien, he was the one standing in the shadows, lost and unsure.

You had barely met Azriel’s gaze when Lucien raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Right, let’s not talk about the Spring Court, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“How much time did the two of you spend in the Spring Court together?” Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued.

Without missing a beat, you and Lucien answered in unison, “Three weeks.”

The synchronization caught everyone off guard, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and added, “And that was far enough, if you want my opinion.”

Lucien smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, far enough after nearly killing Tamlin, burning part of his estate, and getting proposed to by his last general.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You stared at Lucien in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing for a moment before crossing your legs and taking a deliberate sip of your wine. “That’s so fake,” you said finally, your tone nonchalant. “I didn’t light the fire. I was just there when it happened.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he leaned forward slightly. “And tell me, Y/N, just how many people have proposed to you?”

You nearly choked on your wine. “What do you mean, Rhysand? Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone’s attention shifted to you, eyes wide with intrigue. You glanced at Azriel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, and asked accusingly, “Did you tell him?”

Azriel shook his head immediately, his voice steady. “No, of course not.”

Cassian and Mor, ever the instigators, leaned closer. “Wait, wait,” Cassian said, grinning. “Who else proposed to her? Go on, Rhys. I feel like this is going to be good.”

Rhysand’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he began, drawing the word out dramatically, “our sweet head healer of the Night Court could have become the Lady of Dawn, if she had wanted to.”

The reaction was immediate. Mor screamed, her voice full of scandalized delight. “You were with Thesan? Y/N!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Yes,” you admitted reluctantly, “and that’s all you’re going to get to know. End of discussion.” You shot Rhysand a black look, though he only laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Well,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject, “it’s not to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure dinner is ready, right?”

Feyre crossed her arms, a knowing look on her face. “If you think you’re going to escape this conversation, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if to appeal to the Mother above. “Oh, for the love of the mother,” you muttered, but the room erupted into laughter, the tension giving way to warmth and camaraderie once more.

During dinner, to everyone’s surprise, you found yourself seated next to Azriel. He had deliberately taken the seat beside you, leaving Lucien to sit next to Elain. The shift in seating arrangements caught more than a few curious glances. Elain’s worried look flickered toward Azriel, while Lucien, seated on her other side, raised an eyebrow at the change.

You tried to ignore the questions bubbling in your mind, though it was hard to brush aside the unexpected energy between you and Azriel. While you had resigned yourself to the fact that Azriel cared deeply for Elain, perhaps even loved her, this sudden change left you puzzled.

Amren’s sharp voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this a new table, Rhysand?” she asked, gesturing to the elegant woodwork beneath her plate.

Rhysand smirked, barely looking up from his plate. “Yes, it is. Y/N and Azriel broke the last one.”

You choked on your wine, coughing violently as heat crept up your neck. The room went silent for a heartbeat before Cassian burst out laughing, followed closely by Mor’s cackling. You covered your mouth, trying to recover as all eyes turned to you.

Amren’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. “Well, girl, a High Lord, a General, and now a Spymaster. You’re going for all of them, aren’t you?”

Your jaw dropped as laughter erupted around the table. “Oh, please shut up,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t even dare to glance at Azriel, though you could feel the heat of his gaze lingering. The sharpness of Elain’s eyes, however, was impossible to miss. Her displeasure radiated from her in waves, her expression tightening as she glanced between you and Azriel.

“I’d like to point out,” Cassian added with a grin, “that I wasn’t the one who broke a table for once.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Cassian,” Nesta muttered beside him, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The table settled back into a hum of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing your way, his expression unreadable. And while you tried to keep your focus on the food in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

The flow of the dinner had been pleasant enough, though Azriel sitting beside you brought an odd energy you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not entirely—but it was different. When it was just the two of you—working, talking, sharing quieter moments—it felt natural, even easy. But tonight, the dynamic felt... forced. Questions swirled in your mind: Did he sit next to you to make her jealous? Why let her mate sit next to her, then? You brushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the lively conversations around you.

Dessert was served, and you were half-listening to Feyre and Nesta talk about some shared anecdote when Elain stood abruptly, excusing herself. The movement caught your attention. Lucien’s worried gaze followed her, and when you glanced at Azriel, you noticed the same concern etched into his features. That expression.

The unease it stirred in you was compounded when Elain began moving around the table. Her steps faltered slightly, her balance uneven. You frowned, your healer’s instincts kicking in.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice held a note of alarm as her sister stumbled closer to where you were seated.

You turned in your chair just in time to see Elain falter entirely. Without thinking, you shot up and caught her as she collapsed, her weight sudden but manageable in your arms. Her head lolled against your shoulder, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. All conversation ceased.

“Elain!” Feyre and Nesta rushed to her side, their faces pale with worry. Lucien moved swiftly to her other side, his hand hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to touch her. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows curling protectively around him, his expression a mix of alarm and dread.

“Elain, can you hear me?” Feyre’s voice was tight with fear as she knelt beside her sister.

And then it happened. Elain’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the soft brown you were accustomed to. They were white—bright, glowing, and unseeing. The sight knocked the breath from your lungs, your grip tightening reflexively as the unnatural glow emanated from her.

“Elain,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as she grasped her sister’s hand.

“What’s happening to her?” Lucien demanded, his tone panicked.

You steadied Elain in your arms, trying to process what was happening. Your mind raced as you scanned her for any immediate signs of injury or distress. There was none—nothing physical, at least—but the way her body trembled, her unfocused eyes, sent chills down your spine.

“She’s having a vision,” Azriel said, his voice low and tight. 

Feyre nodded grimly at your question about Elain’s visions. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “But... she’s never reacted like this before.”

Elain’s body began trembling more violently, her breathing escalating into rapid, shallow gasps. You quickly moved, lowering her to the ground into a safer position, your movements precise and practiced. “Everyone step back,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the panic in the room. “Give me space.”

The others obeyed, though their worry was palpable. Feyre knelt near but didn’t interfere, her face pale with fear. Lucien and Azriel hovered nearby, their expressions equally stricken. Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

Elain’s trembling worsened, transitioning into full-body spasms. You glanced sharply at Feyre. “Does she usually react like this?”

Feyre shook her head quickly. “No—this has never happened before.”

Your jaw tightened as you assessed her condition. “Alright,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. With a swift motion, you opened Elain’s mouth and carefully inserted two fingers to hold her tongue down, ensuring she wouldn’t swallow it during the convulsions. Then, your free hand hovered just above her head.

You closed your eyes, focusing your power as it began to flow from you. A faint glow radiated from your hand, and your hair lifted as if caught in an unseen breeze. A hush fell over the room, everyone holding their breath as the air grew heavy under the weight of your power. Azriel’s sharp gaze was fixed on you, his shadows coiling around him in tension.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled. But as the connection between you and her held firm, something shifted—a thread of her vision snagged onto your mind.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to prepare. One moment you were guiding her back to reality, and the next, you were pulled into the recesses of her mind. Shadows enveloped you, thick and suffocating, until the world reshaped itself into the fragments of her vision.

The ground beneath you was barren, cracked, and lifeless. The air smelled of ash and decay, and the sky above was a swirling void of darkness. There were no stars, no moon—only an oppressive, smothering emptiness. Fires burned in the distance, their flickering light revealing the skeletal remains of a once-thriving land. This place had been wiped clean of life, erased by a force too terrible to comprehend.

You turned, searching for Elain in the chaos. And then you saw her. She stood just ahead, motionless, her expression vacant and unseeing as if she were a mere observer in this apocalyptic scene. You tried to call out to her, to reach her, but your voice was swallowed by the void. She didn’t seem to register your presence, her eyes fixed on the horror unfolding around her.

Your chest tightened, and you were about to take a step toward her when something else caught your attention. Movement in the periphery—a figure in the shadows. It was... you.

At first, you thought it might be a trick of the vision, a warped reflection, but the figure stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking it. It was you, yet not. This version of you was eerily calm, detached. You looked the same, but your expression held an unsettling stillness.

Then the change began. Blood trickled from your nose, then your ears, your eyes, and your mouth. The crimson streaks contrasted sharply against your pale skin, but you didn’t flinch or react. Instead, a faint smile curved your lips, haunting in its serenity.

Elain, still oblivious to your presence, stood frozen, her hand lifting to her mouth in silent horror as she watched the scene unfold.

And then, the darkness took shape. A hand, inky and unnatural, emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers reaching toward the chest of the vision-you. The smile on your face remained as the hand struck in one swift motion, plunging into where your heart should have been.

You felt it. The phantom pain. The void. The absence.

You crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the darkness seeped into the cracks of the earth, spreading like a disease. Elain whimpered softly in the vision, her form trembling as she stared at your fallen figure. 

The pull of the vision began to loosen, dragging you back to the present. You blinked, gasping for breath as you returned to your body, the sensation of your heart still pounding in your chest grounding you. Elain stirred beneath you, her breathing shaky as her eyes fluttered open.

Your mind reeled, the memory of what you had seen burning fresh in your mind. You didn’t know what the vision meant, but the chilling image of yourself—bleeding, smiling, heartless—was not something you would soon forget.

You exhaled, opening your eyes to see Elain staring up at you. Relief flickered in the room—until, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped you hard across the face.

The shock reverberated through the room as everyone froze. You blinked, stunned by the sharp sting on your cheek. Slowly, you stood up, gripping the back of the chair nearest to you as if to steady yourself, your knuckles tightening against the wood. But your face remained calm, your expression carefully composed.

“Well,” you said dryly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, “that’s a new one.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately moved to Elain’s side, helping her sit up as she began to regain full awareness. “Elain, are you okay?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but worried.

Lucien stepped forward, his golden eye flashing with unease. “What happened? Why did she—”

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” you interrupted, your tone calm and measured, giving nothing away. You flexed your fingers subtly against the chair, grounding yourself as you continued. “It’s normal for someone to act unpredictably when coming out of a vision that strong.”

Feyre and Nesta gently guided Elain toward the stairs, murmuring reassurances as they helped her to her room. Lucien followed close behind, his expression tight with worry. Azriel, however, didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you, golden eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity.

Slowly, you let go of the chair, shaking out the tension in your fingers. Your cheek still stung faintly, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing heavily against your chest.

You sighed softly, glancing at the mess of plates and half-eaten desserts left on the table. It felt like the room itself had absorbed the tension of the evening, the air heavy and stifling.

Mother above, what a night. You straightened, smoothing down your sleeves as you regained your composure. 

Azriel crossed the room in a few swift strides, his shadows curling low around his feet. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for the briefest of moments before his fingers brushed against your arm—light as a whisper but enough to make your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, his thumb grazing your sleeve in a subtle, grounding motion.

You blinked, surprised by the question, by the weight in his tone. “I’m—” Your words faltered, the concern in his eyes throwing you off balance. “I’m fine.”

Cassian, ever the mood breaker, smirked. “Great catch, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, casting Cassian a sharp side-eye that practically dripped with unspoken warning. His shadows flared briefly, wrapping tighter around his boots. Cassian raised a brow, but wisely said nothing more.

You tried to smile at Cassian, though it barely reached your eyes. “Thanks, Cassian” you said softly.

Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly on your arm before releasing you. His touch lingered like a ghost, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. His golden gaze remained locked on yours, searching, as though trying to read something written just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, softer this time, more for him than for anyone else.

He studied you for a second longer, his shadows curling and unfurling around him. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a fleeting gesture that felt more like a promise than a reassurance.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Let me know if… you need anything.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the air between you charged and warm. Then Azriel stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before turning toward the others.

You turned to Rhysand, your voice calm but serious. “How do her visions usually go?”

Rhysand leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Not like that,” he admitted. “She usually comes back to herself without shaking or... whatever that was tonight.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “You’ll need to monitor her closely if this keeps happening. What happened tonight—especially the shaking—is essentially her brain short-circuiting, going on and off repeatedly. I stuck my fingers in her mouth not for pleasure but to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.”

Cassian let out a startled laugh at your bluntness, but you continued without pause. “I helped her out of the vision, but it could be the content of this particular one was too violent, causing her to react that way.”

Lucien, standing stiffly in the doorway, finally spoke. “And if it’s not controlled next time? What happens then?”

You met his gaze evenly, your tone steady but grave. “Asking me that is like asking what would happen if you put a soldier in a war field. There are options, but death is one of them. She could stay in the shaking state without being able to come back to herself or choke—but those are worst-case scenarios.”

The room was quiet as you continued, your voice calm but firm. “It could also completely be a one-time thing. But this is why it has to be monitored carefully.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes on you. “Well, at least that was clear.”

You smirked faintly at her dry remark. “Clarity is what I aim for.”

Azriel’s eyes lingered on you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he listened intently.

“I could examine her further,” you added after a moment, “to see if there’s anything else that might explain what happened tonight. But I’d wait until she’s less shaken by it all. Right now, forcing her into anything might make things worse.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll keep an eye on her and call for you if it happens again. For now, let’s give her some space to recover.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that plan, though Lucien still looked troubled. The room slowly eased out of its earlier tension, though the weight of what had just occurred lingered in the back of everyone’s minds.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his golden eyes dark with worry. As the room shifted its attention to Feyre and Nesta returning, he leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Are you sure you are okay?” His voice was low, barely audible over the quiet murmurs of the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his tone. Was Azriel truly worried about you?

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head lightly. “Don’t worry. A little slap isn’t going to kill me,” you said, throwing in a wink to lighten the mood.

Azriel’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease entirely.

Feyre’s voice broke through the moment. “Elain’s sleeping now,” she said, her tone carrying both relief and exhaustion.

Lucien exhaled audibly, a wave of relief washing over his features. Feyre turned to you, her expression warm with gratitude. “Thank you for your help, Y/N. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

You nodded, brushing it off lightly. “I’m just glad I was here when it happened.”

Rhysand’s eyes flicked between Feyre and Nesta, his expression sharpening. “Did she tell you anything about her vision?”

The two sisters exchanged a weighted look, Feyre biting her lip before she finally spoke. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Nesta for confirmation.

“It’s not good,” Nesta added, her voice steadier but no less grim.

The room fell silent again, everyone waiting for Feyre or Nesta to elaborate. The weight of whatever Elain had seen hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the knot of tension coiling tighter in your chest. Azriel’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled it away, his expression hardening as he braced for whatever was coming next. 

Feyre exchanged a tense glance with Nesta, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, with a heavy sigh, Feyre began to explain, her voice trembling slightly.

“She told us about what she saw… about death, war, and darkness sweeping over everything. But the most terrifying part was…” Feyre’s voice broke, and she looked at Nesta to continue.

Nesta, ever composed, took over. “She saw you, Y/N. In the middle of it all. And…” She hesitated, her steel facade cracking for just a moment before she forced herself to say it. “She saw you...”

The room fell deathly silent, everyone frozen in place. Azriel, standing beside you, visibly tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words.

You straightened, your expression unreadable. The weight of their words wasn’t new to you. You had already seen it yourself in Elain’s vision, and now, hearing it spoken aloud, it only cemented what you had felt.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice steady but filled with an edge of resignation.

Every head in the room turned to you, confusion and shock flashing across their faces.

“You know?” Feyre asked, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded slowly. “I saw it too. I’m not sure how, but when I guided Elain out of her vision, pieces of it came to me. I saw what she saw.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and filled with tension. “Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

You turned to face him, your gaze unwavering, though the effort to maintain your composure was immense. “I saw the moment I die, Azriel.”

The breath seemed to leave the room all at once. Even Amren, ever-unflappable, looked taken aback. Cassian, wide-eyed, shifted uneasily in his seat. Feyre and Nesta exchanged another tense glance, while Rhysand’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

“What do you mean, you saw yourself die?” Azriel pressed, his voice low and strained, his shadows coiling around him like a living entity. His hand hovered near your arm again, as though he wanted to hold on to you, to ground himself in your presence.

You gave a bitter smile, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. “Exactly what it sounds like. She saw me die, and so did I. What do you want me to say? It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and the raw emotion in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “You can’t just… accept that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an edge of desperation. “There has to be something we can do. We can stop it—”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” you interrupted, your tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, fate has its way.”

Rhysand’s voice broke through, calm but commanding. “What exactly did you see, Y/N?”

You hesitated, the image flashing in your mind. The darkness, the war, and that final moment when everything stopped, and you fell. “I saw the world in chaos—death everywhere. And then I saw myself... my blood, my heart—gone. I felt it as much as I saw it.”

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows curling protectively around him. His golden eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t accept that,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way to stop it. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, everyone digesting the gravity of the revelation. Then Amren, leaning back in her chair, spoke up, her voice cool but filled with an edge of challenge. “If fate has marked you, Y/N, then the question is not if we can stop it, but what it will cost.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the uncertain path ahead. You swallowed hard, the weight of the vision and its implications pressing down on you. But even as the room seemed to drown in its tension, you squared your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “it doesn’t change what I need to do now. We have time—maybe not much, but enough to prepare.”

As the heavy silence settled in the room, you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Rhysand’s sharp violet eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of unease. “Y/N,” he began, “would you allow me to see it? The vision?”

You hesitated, the thought of someone else witnessing what you had seen unsettling, but you nodded nonetheless. “Go ahead,” you said softly, standing your ground. Rhysand approached you carefully, his movements deliberate, as though he didn’t want to startle you.

His mental touch was gentle, like a soft whisper brushing against your thoughts. You let him in, showing him the fractured, haunting glimpses of the vision—darkness, war, your bloodied form crumbling to the ground.

When he pulled back, his expression was tight, his jaw clenched. A faint twitch betrayed his composed demeanor.

“Don’t pity me, Rhysand,” you said, your tone firm, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “I died once. I’ve been blessed by the Mother, and I’ve accepted that one day, that favor will need to be returned.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Azriel’s golden eyes locked onto you, his shadows coiling tightly around him. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was a mix of disbelief, worry, and something else you couldn’t quite place—something that made your chest tighten.

The tension in the room shifted, the atmosphere changing as people slowly began to disperse, their expressions ranging from solemn to thoughtful. Conversations were hushed, and one by one, the Inner Circle left to retreat to their rooms or find solace in other parts of the house.

You needed air. The weight of the vision, the discussions, and the gazes filled with unspoken questions were too much. Slipping out quietly, you made your way to the garden of the townhouse. The cool night air brushed against your skin, soothing in its simplicity. The stars above were bright, scattered across the inky sky like a promise of something eternal.

You found a bench near the center of the garden and sank onto it, tilting your head back to take in the view. The stars twinkled softly, distant and untouchable, yet strangely comforting. For a moment, you let yourself breathe, the crisp air filling your lungs as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

The quiet of the garden wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. After some time, you felt a presence approach—a familiar one—and moments later, a warmer jacket was draped over your shoulders. You turned your head slightly to see Azriel sitting down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence, and instead, he leaned back to look up at the sky, mirroring your own posture.

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, the stars above a quiet audience to the unspoken words lingering between you. Eventually, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Still gazing upward, Azriel’s voice was low, steady. “Once, someone told me that sometimes no words need to be spoken. But if you want to talk…” Finally, he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the faint moonlight. “I’m here.”

A small laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Are you actually quoting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

Your laughter faded into the cool night air, replaced by a quieter moment as the gravity of everything settled back in. After a moment, Azriel’s voice broke through the stillness, softer this time. “How?”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “How what?”

“How can you accept what you saw so easily?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the ground as though the question was too heavy to lift.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer, then sighed. “I don’t know, Azriel. I really don’t.”

He exhaled softly, the sound tinged with frustration, and his voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “Don’t behave like your death won’t affect other people.”

Your breath caught at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Like it won’t affect me,” he added, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words settled heavily between you.

Your eyes widened slightly, your heart stumbling over itself as you processed the raw honesty in his voice. You turned your gaze back to the sky, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. After a long pause, you found the courage to ask, “When did you figure it out?”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you. “Figure what out?” he asked, his tone cautious, even though you both knew exactly what you meant.

The bond hummed faintly between you, a quiet rhythm you’d learned to live with but had never fully embraced. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze directly, and whispered, “That I’m your mate.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with emotions you had never allowed yourself to fully feel. Azriel's words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft but resolute.

"The moment we nearly died on our way back from Dawn," he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “And you? When did you know?”

Your throat tightened as you glanced away, searching for the courage to speak the truth. “When I saved your life at the House of Wind,” you admitted softly.

He was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Oh,” was his only response.

And then the question you had been dreading fell from his lips. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

You turned sharply, your face a mask of incredulity. “Are you seriously asking me this now, Azriel? Look at you—with Elain.” Your voice broke slightly, but you steadied yourself. “I barely knew you at the time. What would you have wanted from me then? You loved her—or at least you thought you did. What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I don’t love her,” he said firmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You shot him a sidelong glance, disbelief clouding your features. “Azriel, this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want this to be forced.” You took a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “You deserve someone better, much better than me. And definitely not someone who’s... who’s destined to die soon.”

He tried to interrupt, his expression pained, but you raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. You’re one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You’ve dedicated your life to protecting others, to doing what’s right. And I—I just can’t, Azriel. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You turned fully to him now, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The heaviness in your chest felt unbearable, as if the weight of your fears and regrets were finally demanding release. “I work with death every day,” you began, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “Every single day, I watch it take and take and take. I’ve seen families shattered into pieces—mothers begging me to save their children, lovers screaming for someone to bring their person back.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the storm of emotions pouring from you, his golden eyes following every movement as you began to pace. “I’ve had fathers collapse in my arms because I couldn’t save their wives. Sisters sobbing, clutching me like I was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world. And I...” You paused, pressing a trembling hand to your chest, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. “I can’t—I won’t—be the reason someone else ends up in that position because of me.”

The words tumbled from you, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. “Do you know what that’s like? To carry that? Every mistake, every failure—it haunts you. It lives inside you. And knowing that one day, I’ll be the one taken... that I could leave someone behind, someone I care about... I can’t do that to anyone, Azriel. I just can’t.”

Your steps faltered as the rawness of your confession left you breathless, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together through sheer will. Azriel remained silent, his eyes following you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His shadows stirred softly at his feet, as though they wanted to reach out to you but were unsure how.

“Why do you think I’ve always left?” you demanded, turning toward him suddenly, your voice rising. “Why do you think I’ve never stayed anywhere for long? Why do you think I’ve never let anyone get close, too close to me? Why do you think I’ve never been able to have something... someone real?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel yourself unraveling. “I’m terrified, Azriel. I’m terrified of death—of what it takes, of what it leaves behind. It’s not just the pain or the loss... it’s the emptiness it leaves in its wake. And I can’t bear the thought of someone else feeling that emptiness because of me.”

Snow began to fall softly around you, the first flakes catching in your hair and melting against your flushed cheeks. You barely noticed, your heart hammering in your chest as the emotions you’d kept buried for so long spilled out in a torrent. The cold air stung your lungs, but you welcomed it, letting it ground you.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground as though the weight of your confession had finally crushed you. The snow gathered in the folds of your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat burning behind your eyes. “And I’m just so, so sorry that I’m your mate,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears spilled freely down your face.

Azriel knelt beside you without hesitation, his movements slow and deliberate as though he were approaching something fragile. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth and steadiness of his chest as your sobs wracked your body. You clung to him, the snowfall around you a quiet witness to the storm raging inside you.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m your mate. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve. I’m sorry for... for all of it.”

His arms tightened around you, his shadows curling protectively, almost soothingly. His voice was low and soft when he finally spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of your own broken breathing. “Don’t you dare apologize for being you,” he murmured, his tone steady, even as his own emotions threatened to break through.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in a quiet stillness that seemed to echo the rawness of the moment. Azriel’s warmth surrounded you, his presence grounding you even as the storm inside you raged on.

Azriel froze for a moment, his golden eyes locking onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name—something that made your chest tighten. Slowly, almost reverently, his hands rose to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. The tenderness in his touch made your breath catch, your heart thundering in your chest.

He tilted your head up, his shadows curling softly around your shoulders, as though they were trying to reassure you in their own way. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion. The words were both a command and a plea, grounding you in the storm of your thoughts. “Just... look at me.”

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—the snow, the cold, the pain. It was just him, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees tremble even though you were already on the ground.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline. Gentle at first, as if he were afraid you’d shatter under his touch, but then deeper, insistent, grounding. A warmth spread through you, chasing away the chill of the snow, as if his very being was pulling you back from the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the bond between you pulsed like a drumbeat in your veins, you melted into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if letting go would undo you completely.

The bond roared to life, the connection between you blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt it in every fiber of your being—a tether that had always been there, humming quietly in the background, now surging forward with undeniable force. His shadows wrapped around you, cocooning you in their embrace, a silent promise of safety and devotion.

The kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs still brushing against your skin, as though anchoring you to the moment. The bond pulsed between you, vibrant and alive, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in time with yours.

Azriel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, trembling with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you done?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Because it’s my turn to talk now.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than fear—hope.

Azriel’s gaze pierced through you, deep and unwavering, as though he was stripping away every wall you had ever built, leaving you bare before him. The snow continued to fall around you, cold and relentless, yet you barely noticed it. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, kneeling in the snow, your breaths mingling in the frosty air.

“Y/N,” Azriel began, his voice low but filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You are the person who’s made me see the world differently.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt... something. It was like I was drawn to you, like there was this force pulling me toward you, even though I didn’t understand it.”

His words were heavy, laden with emotion. You couldn’t look away, caught in the raw honesty of his confession.

“It took me months to figure out why,” he continued, his shadows curling faintly around him as though reflecting his inner turmoil. “Why I felt like I could tell you things I’ve never even told my brothers. Why, when I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to hide the parts of me I’ve spent centuries locking away. It was as if you could see me—truly see me—and not turn away.”

Your heart ached at his words, your chest tightening with the weight of his emotions.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, his voice softening. “Why I ended up at the clinic that night of the solstice. Why I fell asleep so easily in your space, a place that felt more like home than anywhere else has in years. Why, in Dawn, every moment I spent away from you felt wrong, like I was missing something vital. And then...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “When I saw you with Thesan, I felt this rage, this jealousy that I couldn’t explain. And that night, when the storm came, I accepted that I would die—because being with you in that moment, even if it was the end, felt right.”

His voice cracked, and you felt your breath hitch as his words pressed against the tender parts of your heart.

“And then you saved us,” Azriel whispered, his shadows curling around you both now, a silent embrace. “And the bond snapped into place, and everything suddenly made sense. And gods, I’ve hated myself every day since for talking to you about Elain—for putting you through that pain without even knowing it.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, and you reached up, placing your hand on his face. His golden eyes closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your palm as though it grounded him.

“And tonight,” he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, “when I saw you with Lucien, I felt it again. That jealousy. The way you smiled, the way you laughed with him... I wanted to be in his place so badly it hurt.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. “And I know I don’t deserve you. Gods, I’ve been the worst to you. But, Y/N, you are everything I didn’t know I needed. You are smart, strong, considerate. You light up the room just by being in it. You make everyone around you better, just by existing. It is so, so easy to fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words wrapping around you like a balm to your battered soul.

“And even if it’s for a year, or a month, or a single day,” Azriel said, his voice breaking, “I want to spend it with you. I want to be close to you, to be by your side, for however long we have.”

He reached out then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His gaze burned into yours, his bond thrumming with a quiet, steady pulse that matched your own. “Please, Y/N. Let me be with you.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound soft and almost disbelieving as it fell between your lips. Your head dropped forward, resting gently against Azriel’s chest, his shirt dampening slightly with your tears. The both of you had shifted completely onto the ground, no longer kneeling but sitting in the snow. You were nearly in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer as though he feared you might disappear.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened tonight,” you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling. “I don’t want this to be out of pity.”

Azriel stilled for a moment, and then his hands cupped your face with such gentleness it made your breath hitch. He tilted your head upward, his golden eyes meeting yours, before leaning down and kissing you again—deeper this time, the connection searing into your very soul. It wasn’t hurried or desperate but deliberate, a kiss that held every unspoken word, every ounce of feeling he hadn’t yet been able to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and his hand moved to your shoulder, grounding himself in your presence as his scent wrapped around you. His shadows curled around the both of you like a protective cocoon, their touch faint and reassuring.

“Never, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Never out of pity. I’ve long made up my mind about how I feel about you. Even if everything feels like a mess—if everything is wrong—I will never fall in love with you out of pity.”

The last words were so quiet, they were almost inaudible, but you heard them. And they wrapped around your heart, filling the cracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Your hands moved on instinct, slipping inside his jacket as you hugged him closer, seeking his warmth and steadiness. Your palm pressed gently against his back, and your fingers began tracing soft circles at the base of his wings. Whether it was to reassure yourself that this moment was real or to offer him comfort, you didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly against your head as he held you. The snow continued to fall around you, the icy flakes melting against the shared heat between you. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence filled with the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint pulse of the bond humming quietly between you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: safe. And in Azriel’s arms, with his shadows weaving around you, it felt like you’d finally found the place where you belonged.

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[bradleysass]

Harry Potter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 801

Harry Potter prided himself on being a decent student. He wasn’t Hermione-level brilliant, but he did well enough. He could strategize in Quidditch, hold his own in a duel, and solve riddles in life-or-death situations. But when it came to people—understanding what they wanted, what they felt—he was utterly useless.

And right now, the person most confusing him was Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been relentless since the start of term. Not in the usual way—not with taunts about his parents or snide remarks about his Quidditch skills. No, lately, Draco had been... weird. He called Harry insufferable but stood just a little too close when he said it. He sneered at Harry’s hair but reached out as if he wanted to touch it before catching himself. And then there was the way he lingered, as if waiting for something Harry didn’t understand.

Was Draco flirting with him? Or did he just enjoy tormenting Harry in a new, confusing way?

Harry had no idea. And there was no one worse to ask for advice than his dads.

Regulus Black and James Potter were, by all accounts, a miracle. A miracle because they should have never worked, and yet, somehow, they did. They had a ridiculous love story—one Harry had grown up hearing in bits and pieces. James, with his stupidly big heart and inability to let things go. Regulus, with his sharp words and sharp eyes, always pretending he didn’t care while caring too much. If opposites attracted, then they were a bloody gravitational force.

At dinner that night, as Harry pushed food around his plate, James and Regulus carried on one of their usual conversations—if they could even be called that.

James, grinning as he stole a piece of bread from Regulus’ plate: “Just admit you think I’m the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Regulus, not looking up from his book: “You’re the most exhausting man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

James, smirking: “Still means you like looking at me.”

Regulus, deadpan: “Unfortunately.”

Harry had grown up seeing their dynamic. He had witnessed the way Regulus softened only for James, the way James never let Regulus slip into his worst habits of self-isolation. It was obvious to everyone that they were in love.

But Harry wasn’t them. He didn’t understand how two people who seemed to drive each other mad could also love each other. Which brought him back to Malfoy.

“Are you two always like this?” Harry asked, interrupting whatever smug retort James had lined up next.

Regulus glanced at him over the rim of his teacup. “Like what?”

Harry gestured vaguely between them. “Like this. The constant back and forth.”

James grinned. “It’s part of our charm.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “More like your punishment.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you—when you first—how did you know you liked each other? Like, actually liked each other?”

James’ eyebrows shot up, and Regulus blinked. A rare moment of being caught off guard.

“Well,” James said slowly, “I’d been in love with your dad since I was seventeen, so—”

“I tolerated him first,” Regulus cut in smoothly. “And then, when he refused to leave me alone, I figured it was either murder or love.”

James beamed. “See? Romantic.”

Harry groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

Regulus finally set his book down, watching Harry with that unnerving ability to see too much. “Why are you asking?”

Harry hesitated. “There’s someone. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t tell if he likes me or just enjoys annoying me.”

James lit up. “Wait. Likes likes you?”

Regulus hummed in thought. “Ah. Malfoy.”

Harry choked. “What—how—?”

James spun in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s Malfoy?! I knew it! I knew there was something there!”

Regulus, unbothered, simply sipped his tea. “It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not obvious!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s the whole point! I can’t tell if he’s—” He waved his hands around, struggling for words. “If he’s flirting or if he just hates me in a really weird way!”

James turned to Regulus with a huge grin. “Ah, to be young and oblivious.”

Regulus shot him a look. “You were never oblivious. Just stubborn.”

Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted before this conversation had even properly started. “So? What do I do?”

Regulus set his cup down with a quiet clink. “Ask yourself this: If Malfoy weren’t Malfoy, if he were just some nameless person acting the way he does, would you already have your answer?”

Harry opened his mouth—then promptly shut it.

James, of course, still had to get the last word in. “Or, you know, just kiss him and see what happens.”

Regulus sighed.

Harry banged his head against the table.

This was not going to be easy.