#also the way don was over here doing all the heavy lifting lmao??

[mobius-m-mobius]

#happy anniversary to remembering this actually happened 😘✌️

Loki S2 Anniversary x Episode 5 - “Science/Fiction”

[bffsoobin]

amortentia

↳year six potions class was never particularly exciting to you- as a Slytherin with much more interest in Transfiguration- but alas, it’s required to graduate. You thought the class couldn’t be any more of an inconvenience, but upon being paired with infamous Gryffindor Beomgyu, you find yourself proven wrong.

➤ gryffindor!beomgyu xslytherin!reader, harry potter!au, enemies to lovers, a little slow burn, fluff

Word Count: ~11k

Requested?: kinda? anon requested a Beomgyu oneshot with no specifics and I spit this out of some depraved, Harry Potter obsessed corner of my mind.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual e2l arguments, swearing, usual Gryffindor-Slytherin insults and tension 

A/N: I hope the anon who asked for a Beomgyu oneshot is happy with this!! I finally felt like I had enough time to write a proper hogwarts au so here it is! Also I purposely avoided using any professor names that are clearly linked with the actual Harry Potter series purely because of timeline continuity! Bonus points if you can guess who Georgiana is related to before I point it out :) ALSO this is so long and I feel so rusty so I hope it’s okay lmao

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

The sound of your quill scratching against parchment filled your quiet corner of the common room, allowing you a feeling of solidarity and peace you’d been craving since you arrived back to the castle a few days ago. Of course you’d been excited to be back, sharing the meal in the Great Hall with all of your friends happily as you watched the wide-eyed first years get sorted into their houses. It was hard to believe that 6 years ago that had been you waiting to find your place within the walls of Hogwarts. 

As always, the buzz of the beginning of a new year wore on your nerves. Despite your love for your friends, their energy was- in your opinion- completely draining. You much preferred the moments of quiet serenity that the stone laden dungeon common room afforded you. The last few embers of a fire lit hours before winked at you from across the room, tempting you to raise your wand and reignite them. After a moment you decided against the movement, as you were presumably the only one awake at this hour and the light of the cedar scented candle you’d brought down with you from your suitcase provided enough light for you anyway. 

The scratch of your quill stilled as you flipped to the next page, careful not to accidentally bend the corners of the book you’d just purchased. Several detailed diagrams detailed the process of transfiguring plants to inanimate objects to animals then back to plants and you felt your heart swell with excitement. Transfiguration was hands down your favorite subject, and you’d been craving to learn this process in particular since it had been mentioned offhandedly in class last year. You scrambled to pick up your quill, happy that you’d splurged for the instantly refilling model as ink flowed flawlessly against the parchment. 

A sudden crash from the entrance of the common room popped your comfortable bubble of silence harshly as you clambered for your wand. 

“Who’s there?” You yelled, annoyance and surprise mixing to raise your voice considerably. For a moment you heard nothing as you advanced closer to the door, keeping the three wide stone steps between you and who- or what- ever was behind the door. The door shook a few times before finally flying open, revealing three very normal looking boys stumbling through the threshold. They were all hanging on one another, stumbling over their feet as they pushed into the common room. You recognized the one in the middle instantly as Choi Yeonjun, fellow Slytherin and current Head Boy of the house. He was a year older than you but you knew him well for his infectious laughter and notoriously good grades despite never studying. His cheeks were flushed and his feet unsteady, but he held a charming grin through it all. The identity of whoever was supporting him on the left was a mystery to you, but the boy supporting him from the right sent alarm bells off in your head. 

“Beomgyu?” Your voice left you before you could rein yourself in, and you would have cringed had it not been for the hatred brewing under your skin. Here he was, the one person you tried to forget existed every single summer. And he had been part of the ruckus that pulled you from your reading. He didn’t say anything as the three boys stumbled past you, dumping Yeonjun onto one of the soft black leather sofas. 

“Hello?” You felt like you were in some kind of time warp, somehow totally invisible to the three of them as they sorted themselves out; Beomgyu and the other boy straightening out their clothing and Yeonjun lolling his head back on the cushions with a content sigh. 

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Beomgyu finally drawled, sticking his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. He was still wearing his robes, layered over a sensible gray wool sweater and black uniform slacks. His striped red and gold tie hung off of his neck slightly, obviously having been loosened at some point in the night. He donned the same Head Boy pin Yeonjun did, but in the same colorway as his robes and tie. Loud, obnoxious, attention seeking red and gold.

“Hey? How about instead of “hey” you tell me why the hell you’re barging into my common room at some ungodly hour of the night! Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Head Boy?” The unidentified boy behind him froze as his eyes widened, apparently feeling the sting of your icy words much more than Beomgyu. He just lifted a lazy eyebrow, guiding his annoyingly confident gaze over your body. Fucking Gryffindors and their confidence. It was suffocating. 

“Well you see, Y/N. Yeonjun here can’t handle his fire whiskey for shit, and we were all just having a little start of the year party in the Room of Requirement. So me and my friend here,” he motioned vaguely to the cowering boy behind him- who you now noticed looked like he had just entered his fourth year- “decided to be so kind as to bring him back.” 

You said nothing for a moment; simply simmering in your hatred for him until he spoke again. 

“By the way, what are you even doing up so late? You’re not a prefect...so shouldn’t you be up in bed like the rest of your little friends? What’s so secretive that you have to be up in the middle of the night for it? Are you doing something...evil?” He leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you and bringing his mouth level with your ear. You cringed at the closeness, clenching your hands into fists until the crescents of your nails indented your skin. His voice had lowered like he was telling a secret, as if Gryffindors even had the capacity for maintaining privacy. “Are you being naughty?” 

You huffed indignantly, finally finding the strength to shove his shoulder away harshly. The skin of your cheeks was certainly flamed, but you hoped he would chalk it up to annoyance and not the intoxicating scent of his woody cologne.  

“If you must know, I was up studying Transfiguration. I was trying to enjoy some piece and quiet until you came busting in.”

Beomgyu stepped around you and made his way for the table you’d previously been sitting at. To your delight he refrained from touching anything, but he stared at the set up for so excruciatingly long that the mystery boy awkwardly slipped out of the dungeon without a word. 

“We start classes in about 5 hours,” he suddenly remarked. His voice made you jump a bit, since you’d become used to the regained quiet. “Why the hell are you already studying? And a subject we’ve all already taken? Any other Transfiguration courses would just be electives, and with how much you care for your class standing I would have assumed you’d be learning ahead on Potions.”

“Well first of all, I’m not exactly studying. I’m just reading. I bought the book myself because I-” you stopped and heaved a sigh at the scrunch of his eyebrows. He clearly wasn’t understanding the concept of reading just for the fun of it. “I’m not studying for Potions because I despite it. Plus, how much is there to study? The book literally spells out every ingredient and procedure. There’s no thinking to be done, and hardly any magic.” Beomgyu’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline comically. 

“Hardly any magic? My god, maybe I was right to peg you as the pessimistic type. Must be hard to feel anything akin to hope down here in your-” he glanced around your common room again, eyes catching on the darkened green and black decorations, the window offering a view of the sparkling Black Lake shrouded with pine trees. “In your dungeon.” 

His use of the word bothered you greatly. Even though you knew it was geographically true and had even used it yourself; something about him coming in unannounced and uninvited to insult your home inspired fresh anger in your stomach. 

“Get out,” you spat, ignoring the way a half-dozed Yeonjun jumped at your voice. With all your might you pushed at Beomgyu’s broad shoulders, willing him out of your sight for at least a few more hours. 

“Oof, must have hit a nerve there, huh?” He continued to speak casually as you pushed him, walking backwards up the steps with an annoyingly perfect accuracy. Once he was finally stood in the threshold of the heavy door you heaved a sigh of relief as you swing it closed.

“Bye bye! Don’t ever fucking come back!”

——

You only managed about two hours of sleep after the Beomgyu drama, but luckily for you the three other sixth year girls you were rooming with had been smart enough to buy and stash away some caffeine potions. They had none of the enjoyable taste of coffee but three times the effect, and soon you felt back in top shape to head to class.

Pushing through the masses of clambering students with a practice eased, you caught up to the familiar frame of Georgiana, one of your oldest friends. She was a Ravenclaw, but you’d ridden together on your very first trip on the Hogwarts Express and stayed close friends since then. She greeted you easily, giving you an award winning smile as she pulled you by the arm of the robes to sit on one of the surprisingly empty stone benches lining the halls.

“Let me see your schedule!” She had to yell just to be heard over the mumbling of the crowd, but you heard her well enough to produce a folded piece of parchment that you carried despite having memorized it. Georgiana’s eyes flitted over it carefully, comparing it to her own schedule which laid open on her lap.

“We’ve got...Herbology 3,” she ran her finger down the parchments a few more inches, “Transfiguration of Aquatics...and NEWT prep together!” You groaned loudly, a feeling of anxiety weighing down your bones as you rubbed your fingertips into your temples.

“What’s up with you? Over me already?” She giggled, leaning back against the wall and handing you back your schedule.

“No, it’s just...if you’re the second class for Herb 3, Aquatics and NEWT prep, that means I have to pray that the second house in Potions isn’t Gryffindor.” You leaned back against the cool wall next to her, pouting in self pity until you saw the grim look on her face.

“What?” You sat up straight again as if a fire had been lit under your ass. Georgiana looked as if she was holding in a laugh and a grimace at the same time while you begged her to give up whatever information she was holding back from you. Her hand hovered over her mouth in an attempt to hide the wavering smirk running across her lips. 

“Okay, don’t freak out.” She began, placing a hand on your knee. 

“Well now I’m definitely going to since you lead with don’t freak out! Should I freak out? What about?”

“I already compared schedules with Soobin,” she said gently.

“Okay, and?” You knew of the sweet Hufflepuff, had sat next to him in a few classes and seen him hanging out with Yeonjun on occasion, but still had no idea why she was bringing him up now.

“And him and I have Potions together.” In the split second it took for the words to process you saw her flinch, clutching at the fabric of her robes over her chest in anticipation for your angry outburst.

“Of course! Of course I have to get stuck with them for Potions class, out of all the other houses. Merlin really has it out for lately you know, I didn’t sleep very much last night, had to pay Melinda 10 galleons for one of her caffeine potions-“

“I can tell,” Georgiana supplied. You grimaced at her and immediately shut your mouth, sensing your rapid talking was quickly becoming over the top.

“Georgie, if I have Potions with him-“ you didn’t even have to specify who you were speaking of before she was rolling her green eyes into her head.

“If you have Potions with Beomgyu, you just need to ignore him. He loves to push your buttons, Y/N. When will you realize that? And you push his back and you both get a good cat-and-mouse feeling that every teenager wants. Maybe if you stop entertaining it, he’ll take it easy on you. Need I remind you of the time you were actually friends with him? Didn’t swear he was the spawn of Satan after every conversation? I even remember in second year when you had a crush on him and made me-“

“Okay!” You replied curtly, gathering your books and parchment back into your arms. “I’m going now! Class starts in,” you pulled back your robe sleeve to look at a watch that clearly was not there, “10 minutes, and I like to be early!” Easily, you slipped into the throngs of students, leaving Georgiana behind with a sly grin on her face.

——

You arrived to the Potions room before any other student, forcing you to idle awkwardly in the small space between the door and the first brewing station. A few of the cauldrons bubbled idly, breaking up the silence of the room with the low hum of white noise. The arched ceilings only amplified the absence of noise- even the never ending buzz of students passing through the hallways was somehow muffled to silence inside the walls. 

“Ah!” The professor bellowed, waving at you from the opposite end of the room where he had been straightening out some piles of parchment that you could only assume were homework papers. “Hello there, you must be quite eager to start the day!” You could feel the skin of the back of your neck heating up as the rotund man approached you gleefully. 

“Oh, um, yes sir. You could say that...” you mumbled, clutching your stack of books to your chest protectively. The man smiled at you kindly but you could still feel the heavy weight of awkwardness seeping into your bones. He opened his mouth again- making another attempt at small talk to which you cringed. As much as you respected the professor on the basis of his knowledge, your ability for any small talk, especially Potions related, was extremely lacking. 

“You must’ve done quite well on your OWLS to be here, yes? Only those with the highest scores can be registered. The class can be quite challenging, but if you’ve got your affairs in order I reckon you’ll fine.” He paused, likely sensing the blankness behind your stare as you nodded politely. “Ah, all things you already know I’m sure. Are you excited to get started with the class?” 

You frowned, holding back your natural instinct for brutal honesty. How on earth could you let this gentle old man down gently? 

“Of course she’s excited! Aren’t we all?” Beomgyu was in the room now, apparently, approaching you from behind and slinging an arm around your shoulders. The loose fabric of his sleeve collided with the side of your face, blinding you for a second. You stumbled on your feet from the jostle, trying to shrug away from the warmth and overwhelming scent of his cologne. Beomgyu never was aware of his own strength as he held you steadily against his side as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

“Oh my! So nice to see such great friends between different houses! Back in my day, as I’m sure you know, there was so much hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins...never would have seen a pair of friends like the two of you!” The professor seemed genuinely delighted, oblivious to the way you tried to wiggle out of Beomgyu’s hold. You offered the professor a plastic smile as more students filed in. As soon as the portly man was otherwise occupied, you stomped the heel of your sneaker into Beomgyu’s foot with all the might you could gather. 

“Merlin, ouch!” He recoiled immediately, withdrawing his arm from around your frame to clutch at the foot you’d hopefully bruised. “I’ve got Quidditch practice after lunch today! How dare you!” 

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t need your feet for Quidditch, Choi. Serves you right for violating my personal space. Next time it’ll be worse than your fucking toes.” You hissed the words lowly, just enough that he would be able to hear them but without alerting your nearby classmates. 

“You two, there!” The professor suddenly exclaimed, making you jump out of your stupor to see he was pointed an aged finger at you and Beomgyu. “Since you were first in and seem to get along, I’ll have you be partners on Station 1.” A few confused whispers passed through the classmates behind you and your face fell at the implication. Potions partners with Beomgyu? For the whole year?

He seemed similarly stalled, not moving a single inch away from the front of the room until the professor cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Right, sir, of course,” Beomgyu nodded, rushing over to the furthest of the high-top tables; unsuccessfully trying to hide the pain of his newfound limp. With a satisfied feeling in your chest you followed closely behind, finally unloading the weight of the books in your arms onto the table. 

——

“How much worse could it get?” You groaned, laying your head in your arms at the dining table. 

“Well, you could be sick, or failing a class, or not have any friends, or have lost your books. Hell, let’s not forget what it must have been like to go to school here at the same time as Harry Potter. I mean, no final exams for a few years, but at what cost? Grandpa Ron always tells me about-” 

“Oh, good Merlin, Georgie, that’s not what I meant.” You picked your head up from the table and scanned the bustling hall. A large plate of sandwiches laid in front of you but your appetite was diminished in the presence of your stress. “I mean, how fucked is it that I have to spend every first period for the rest of the year brewing Potions alongside Choi? It’s bad enough that I hate Potions already, and now I’ll have to deal with his stupid, righteous, Slytherin-slandering ass!” You slammed your hand into the wooden table, shaking the plates and glasses near you under the force. 

“Careful there,” Georgiana scolded around a mouthful of bread. “Just keep your head down, don’t react to him like you always do,” she paused to gulp down a sip of pumpkin juice, “he’ll give up eventually.” You heaved a heavy sigh, propping your chin onto the palm of your hand and scanning the Great Hall. Masses of students bustled around, sharing meals and laughing or gathering over homework problems. You weren’t quite sure who or what you were looking for, but all you found was a rowdy group of forth year boys sitting atop one of the tables, casting small hexes at one another and their lunches. You rolled your eyes at their antics before resigning to picking at the few fries on your plate. 

“And if he doesn’t?” You mumbled, casting a pointed glare at a seemingly distracted Georgiana. It took her a second to shift her gaze back to your face, clearing her throat as she narrowed her eyes towards you. 

“Sorry?” She asked, pulling a section of crust off of the third sandwich she’d picked up off of the platter. 

“If he doesn’t give up? What am I supposed to do then?” The thought of living out the next two school years with Choi Beomgyu as a constant annoyance settled a pit of rage in your stomach. Georgiana was quiet for a moment, flicking a few locks of curled, fiery hair over her shoulder. 

“Then you get back at him.” She shrugged. “You know you get a discount at the joke shop. Just go down there and pick up some puking pastilles or something.” She looked up again suddenly, eyes shimmering and focused intently on something behind you. Out of curiosity you turned on the spot, wondering if there was something of interest outside of the window, only to be met with the sight of Soobin standing mere feet away, hand stalled mid-wave. It didn’t take a genius to notice that the Hufflepuff was staring intently at your best friend, and she was happily returning the sentiment with a goofy grin on her face. You whipped back around to face her, leaning across the table as if the action would provide any secrecy with him so close. 

“Are you and Soobin...” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she swatted at your shoulder. Her cheeks blushed rosy as she whispered back, “He asked me if I’d want to hang out when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Her voice shook as she spoke but you frowned instantly. Of course you were happy that he had finally manned up and the two of them were on the way to something akin to a date, but...

“First weekend Hogsmeade is our tradition!” You shouted, abandoning any secrecy you might have thought you’d maintained from Soobin. 

“Y/N, please!” Georgiana hissed, glancing up at Soobin with an apologetic smile. “Just once. You can still come along, maybe you can bring someone too?” She offered, trying to placate your irritation. Her eyes continued sliding between you and Soobin as she waited for your response. You sank back onto the bench quietly, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Fine.” You sighed. “I guess I can try to think of someone.” Georgiana’s face lit up as she stood from her seat and gathered her books back under her arm. She rounded the end of the table quickly, meeting up with Soobin just behind you. “Don’t think I’m not still irritated, Weasley!” You yelled after her even though she had turned her back to you. She stalled in her lockstep next to Soobin just long enough to turn her head and throw you a middle finger. 

——

The day of your Hogsmeade visit came quicker than you anticipated, and of course you’d failed to find someone to fill the empty spot that would prevent you from third wheeling. Everyone you asked had either been otherwise busy, sick, or already going into Hogsmeade with other friends.

Georgiana, being the wonderful friend she was, made sure that you hadn’t felt left out on the walk into the village. Soobin was surprisingly good at keeping conversation despite his shy appearance, and the three of you had managed to share lunch and a few Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks before Georgiana began giving you pointed glances. It took you an embarrassingly long time to recognize what her hand signals and mouthed words were conveying, but once you did you had excused yourself to wander the shops alone in a bid to give the lovebirds some privacy.

The weather was surprisingly pleasant, and as such the streets were lined with witches and wizards of all ages. Large throngs of students and families passed you by, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like a fish swimming upstream as everyone pushed by. When you’d first stepped out you felt odd walking the cobbled street alone, considering you’d never made a solo trip to Hogsmeade for as long as you’d lived. Something about it was quite relaxing, though, as you realized you could enter any store and stay for any amount of time. 

Once you’d wrestled your way through another group of oncoming students, you spotted an endearing baby blue storefront with deserts on display in the window. Many of them appeared to be muggle creations, and your mouth watered as you caught sight of a tray of fudgy brownies with a thick layer of chocolate icing. Your eyes had always been bigger than your stomach; so despite the fact that you’d just had lunch you find yourself stepping into the sweet smelling shop. An expansion charm helped stretch the store far beyond its dainty storefront, and you were met with the sight of even more display cases and tiered plates full of sweets. 

A few other wizards mulled around the store, debating which treats to pick up and pack into the little green pastry boxes which were stacked at the entrance in a never ending supply. You balanced one of your own between your hands as you gathered up treats, sure to grab three of the very brownies that had brought you in to begin with. You packed in a few cookies that you found on a shelf near the back of the store and began to weigh your options between purchasing what appeared to be a type of muggle cake with specs of color floating about the white batter or a more familiar looking pumpkin pastry dusted with powdered sugar. You contemplated the two deserts for an amount of time that would have been embarrassing if you were in the presence of company.

“Wrackspurts on the brain?” A rush of hot breath inches away from the shell of your ear had you reeling, clutching your box of precious deserts to your chest. Of course you’d immediately identified the voice; you were just hoping that you were wrong as you shot daggers into the boy who’d spooked you. Beomgyu looked beyond pleased with himself: a hand cocked on his hip, fake glasses perched at the very end of his nose to perfectly top off the outfit he’d chosen. His robes hung open, one shoulder almost devoid of the fabric as it drooped onto his back. The maroon turtleneck he wore struck a perfect contrast with the golden undertones of his skin and matched impressively well to the emblem on his robes. He had tucked the turtleneck into the waistband of a pair of light wash jeans that made it hard not to marvel at the shape of his waist. The scent of his cologne was faint, overpowered by the sweetness of the shop, but you were picking up overwhelming scents of-

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” He scrunched his nose as he studied you, waving gingerly like you would have at a child.

“Oh! Uh, I’m here, I’m here. What the hell do you want anyway?” You turned your attention back to the two pastries you’d been considering before his sneak attack in an attempt to keep yourself from looking back at his form.

“What’re you doing here alone? Out of friends? Did ya bore them all to death?” He had rounded to the opposite side of the table, forcing you to look at him straight on.

“I walked into Hogsmeade with Georgiana and Soobin, if you must know. They wanted some time alone so here I am.” You glanced up again to see him leaning casually against the table with one arm bracing his weight.

“I just have to point out that you’re also alone, Beomgyu. So I’m not quite sure why so keen on bashing me.” Your eyes skate over the deserts one final time before you decisively package up a slice of the muggle cake. The urge to celebrate the small victory was squashed by Beomgyu’s scoff.

“I’m here alone because I chose to be, not because my best friend is on a date and didn’t want a chaperone. Don’t you find that a little embarrassing?”

To be honest, you hadn’t considered it that way. You knew that finding a person to keep you from third wheeling had been your responsibility. But maybe he had a point. Although he was a constant nagging force, Beomgyu was insightful and intelligent. He’d helped you in class many times back when you were friends. Nervously, you nibbled at your bottom lip and considered his words carefully. Did Georgiana find your presence today embarrassing? She was surely too nice to tell you so, and there was no denying the tension in her face while she waited for you to leave The Three Broomsticks earlier. Your normally stoic face must have betrayed you, conveying that you were starting to feel hurt at the words that suddenly seemed to make so much sense. 

“I was joking,” Beomgyu spoke up suddenly, rounding the table to once again be next to you. “Don’t take everything I say so seriously, Y/N. I’m beginning to worry for your sense of humor.” He picked up a couple of cookies with careful dexterity and settled them into the palm of his hand. 

“Of course,” you concluded bitterly, taking a step back in a bid to get to the counter and buy your treats. “Must be my broken sense of humor and not just the fact that you’re an ass.” His face twisted unpleasantly as you stepped further away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but you were already pivoting on the balls of your feet to make your way toward the front of the shop. 

——

The evidence of the first frost of the season crunched underneath your feet as you hurried to class. As someone who prided themselves on showing up on time for classes every day, you were particularly embarrassed to have woken up with just twenty minutes to spare before the beginning of potions. There was no excuse, either. You had simply stayed up too late studying for the NEWT practice exam and forgot to set your alarm before lying down.

To make matters worse you’d greatly underdressed yourself, underestimating the absolute chill of the morning when you had peeled out from the window. Only now, as you found yourself feet away from the classroom did you feel the icy temperature begin to bite into your exposed skin. Your cheeks were numb with cold, and your hands shook as you pushed them under your arms for some amount of warmth. Luckily the classroom was warmer when you finally got to it. Guiltily, you grinned at your professor as he notably marked your attendance onto the scroll of parchment. 

“Rough night?” Beomgyu asked under his breath as the professor launched into the lesson for the day. You kept your back turned to the boy in favor of writing down the list of ingredients that was being provided to you. A firm poke in the middle of your back had you turning on your stool, already silently fuming as you came face to face with Beomgyu. 

“What?” You mouthed, trying your best not to alert your professor that neither of you were paying attention to him. 

“You look awful,” he mouthed back, pulling the most exaggerated gagging expression you’d ever seen in your life. Your fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab him by his necktie and slap him across his annoyingly perfect face. Instead you threw up your middle finger boldly, practicing a muggle tradition that wizards had become quite fond of. Beomgyu feigned shock, laying a hand over his heart and pretending to faint right there at his stool. 

“-so you’ll be using this combination of potions for the group project, due in one weeks time.” Your professor concluded. Wide eyed, you spun back around on your stool only to see the words previously written on the board disappear with a flick of his wand. A group project? Potions, plural? You’d only taken notes on one mixture, and you were sure that Beomgyu hadn’t taken any notes at all. Although maybe the group project wasn’t among your table mate? Your heart fluttered as you prayed for that to be the reality, scanning your classmates to see if anyone got up to switch seats or combine tables. 

Not a single soul moved. 

“Guess it’s just us.” Beomgyu drawled from behind you. 

“Did you take any notes?” You asked, fear running through your veins. If both of you were clueless, you’d have to ask the professor to explain everything to you again, which would only implicate the two of you for not paying attention to begin with. 

Beomgyu shook his head and shrugged much too casually for a student who was in the dark about an entire project. 

“I’ll just ask someone. Hey, Art-” 

“No!” You scrambled for a rolled piece of parchment to hit him on the arm with before he could finish his shout across the classroom. “Please, do not scream across the room that we don’t know what we’re doing.” Your cheeks were flaming, anxiety and exhaustion building to a dangerous level in your bloodstream.

“Awe, are you ashamed to admit you were too busy talking to me to pay attention?” Beomgyu cooed, cradling his chin in his palms.

“No. I’m embarrassed that we’re the only ones not starting the work,” you glanced pointedly to all of the other tables where your classmates were hard at work on...something. Every table housed a slowly bubbling cauldron producing a steady stream of light grey smoke. The cauldron resting on the table between the two of you was alarmingly quiet, your stores of provided potion ingredients remaining untouched. 

“Alright, Y/N. How about right now we work on the one you wrote down,” he points a finger at the parchment containing the list of notes you managed to take, “and I’ll talk to someone about the rest. Since you’re too proud to ask for help.” Without waiting for you to process the words he gripped the parchment between his fingers and pulled it toward the middle of the table. He mumbled a simple aguamenti under his breath and the cauldron filled with the perfect level of water. He then scrutinized the words for just a moment before he began to collect ingredients with a practiced ease, barely even glancing at the labels of the hefty glass containers. You’d never seen him quite as focused in a class as he was at the moment, his nimble fingers uncapping lids and measuring precise amounts of lacewing flies with a delicacy you never would have expected to come from the hands of Gryffindor’s star Beater. 

One after the other, ingredients fell into the wrought iron cauldron, changing the color of the mixture from clear to an odd, murky green. You scrunched your nose in distaste but Beomgyu was nodding to himself in satisfaction, his fluffy hair bouncing back off of his forehead. 

“Stop staring and start taking notes, Y/N.” His voice was casual but his lips were twisted in a smirk as you scrambled for both an excuse and a fresh roll of parchment. 

“I wasn’t,” you defended as you begin to scribble out notes against the parchment, refusing to meet his eyes as the shame of being caught red-handed crawled up the back of your throat and stung behind your eyes. He simply hummed in acknowledgment and tossed in a few leaves of a plant you didn’t have time to identify into the bubbling mixture.

——

Impatiently, you tapped your foot against the stone floor. It echoed a sound that would have been satisfying in its consistency if it weren’t for the annoyance running through your veins. Beomgyu had promised to meet you in the west corner of the library today, at a prompt 7pm, in order to finish synthesizing your plan for the Potions project. You checked the clock on the wall again just in case you had somehow misread the hands only to find them confirming your suspicions. Beomgyu was blowing you off. He had suggested the time and place himself, and yet he couldn’t even have the decency to show up. 

Anger blossomed in your chest as you stood to gather the things you’d brought along. Your chair scraped on the floor and attracted the stares of a few other students put you paid them no mind as you swore under your breath. 

Of course Beomgyu had stood you up in the face of an important project. He was probably laughing away to his friends in the common room, boasting about how he’d left you sitting in the library like a fool. Once again he had proven himself to be an utterly useless and annoying human being that you wished you had never even met. Your teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your bottom lip so hard that blood pooled on your tongue, the bitter tang snapping you into action. The route to the Gryffindor common room was a familiar one, and the hatred brimming inside of you made your legs move even faster than usual, swearing under your breath as you finally came face to face with the portrait keeping you from entering the room. 

“I don’t have time for any password- please just let me in. I’m looking for someone.” Your words came rushed, obviously annoyed as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Now, you know that isn’t how this works, dear,” the painting asserted, crossing their arms to mimic your own stubborn pose. “I can’t let just anyone into the room. I’ve got,” the portraited stopped dead in its tracks and began counting on its fingers silently. “I’ve got 30 students inside right now, and it’s my job to protect them.” Your fists clenched at your sides over the stubborn portrait, fingers itching to grab your wand and level a badgering curse against the damned painting. It must have read the anger on your face as you fiddled with the fabric of your robes, as it’s booming voice came again; 

“Tell me who you’re seeking, and I can tell you if I’ve seen them!” With your fingers still curled around your wand, it took a fair deal of restraint to leave it in your robe pocket. After a deep, steadying breath, you looked back up at the portrait. A beat of silence passed before you slathered on a sweet smile, clearing your throat to quell any remnants of your frustrated growl. 

“I’m looking for Choi Beomgyu.” 

The portrait took a moment to contemplate your words, squeezing its eyes tightly and tapping its fingers as you assumed it searched the students inside the Gryffindor common room and dorms. 

“He’s not here.” It finally concluded, snapping its eyes back open to peer down at you again. Frustration flamed your skin red all the way to your hairline. Hogwarts and it’s grounds were extensive, and searching for him would surely take up your entire night. 

“I did happen to see out Quidditch players heading down to the pitch around 5 o’clock, though.” Not needing any further ceremony, you turned on your heels and made your way toward the exit of the castle. The corridors were fairly empty, and the few students still milling around were quick to step out of your way as you hurried through them, robes flowing out behind you. Silently you thanked your lucky stars that no professors had been around to inquire about why you were rushing out of the castle in such a haste. 

As soon as you set foot outside, you regretted not stopping by your dorm first to grab your coat and scarf. It had been three days since you woke up to the first frost, and the temperature had only continued to drop into frigid numbers. Even in the limited light provided by the setting sun you could see your breath fogging ahead of you. Cold air curled around your body, seeming to seep underneath your skin with a harsh ferocity. For now you simply tucked your hands deeper into the fabric of your robes, hoping that the heat of them in conjunction with your brisk pace would keep your body warm enough.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch was deceptively far when you traveled alone. Normally you were so distracted by conversation with your friends and the last minute bets between houses that you didn’t have time to mull over how many steps it took you to arrive at the stands; but today you were nothing short of pissed at how far away the compound had been built. Every step you took sent a shock of cold through your feet, your toes completely numb no matter how much you wiggled them inside your sneakers. The trees shuddered with you as you passed them, leaves spiraling to the ground as they finally give in to the pressure of the cold and resign themselves.

Finally you passed through the solid wood of the viewing stands, coming face to face with the expanse of the pitch in front of you. Totally empty. Not a single soul was to be found warming up on the grass or running practice games in the air. Upon listening, you couldn’t even hear any distant chatter that would indicate the team being huddled into the locker room.

“Shit!” A new wave of frustration crashed through your mind. Had you passed them on the way over? It was plausible that they had taken a different route back to the castle and your whole trip had been in vain. Exhausted, you leaned against the wall and listened to the whip of the banners against their metal poles, the clinking of their bindings matching with the steady, loud beat of your pulse. Just as you were about to turn and head back for the castle in your freezing shame, you heard another sound. This one was different, less uniform, almost like a grunt of exhaustion followed by a heavy thud. Your freezing feet moved almost without you to follow the noise. A vicious wind whipped your hair, mussing it up so badly that you had to stop in your tracks to gather it all back into place. You hazarded every step you took, unsure exactly where the source of the noise was coming from other than somewhere behind the stands. On your next step you heard the noise again, much closer this time, and the excitement of being close to solving this mystery had your footsteps speeding up.

Just as you rounded the curving stands, you spotted the culprit, still a little hard to make out due to the distance you had yet to cover, but the colors and shape of a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform were clear. Upon further inspection, it became obvious that the heavy thud you’d been hearing was a the heavy iron Bludger cracking against the magically reinforced bat. There were only two Beaters on the team, and one of them was the very man who’d forced you to walk into the frigid night. You continued your steady approach to the figure, morbidly curious over who it was that was out here pushing themselves to practice alone in the freezing cold. 

“Hey!” You yelled as you edged closer, hoping to give whoever it may be a fair warning that you were approaching. Within three feet of the body, there was no mistaking it to be Beomgyu. 

“Choi!” You raged, yelling much louder than required for him to hear you. The Bludger was sailing far away from the two of you with a strong hit as you closed the distance almost all the way. “I know you can hear me, asshat.” Beomgyu kept his eyes on the iron ball, effectively ignoring your words. In disbelief you glanced back and forth between his face-seeing the way his eyes narrowed in concentration as the Bludger came closer by the second. 

“Is this where you’ve been all night? Playing Quidditch while you were supposed to meet me in the library?” A strong gust of wind knocked the air out of you, shivers running down your spine as you waited for any response from the boy. The Bludger came whistling back toward the two of you, and in the split second you had the foresight to step back he had tensed his shoulders, gripped the end of his bat and took another strong and precise hit against the Bludger, sending it even further away than the last one. 

“Lost track of time.” He supplied absentmindedly, turning his head to regard you with lazy eyes. 

“What?” You seethed, stepping forward again, placing yourself in front of his frame in hopes of appearing somewhat intimidating. “You lost track of time? Let’s talk about the fact that out project is due in four fucking days, and all we have to show is a single god damn Potion. This was your responsibility,” you pushed your pointed finger into the front of his uniform, the fabric giving way to allow you to feel the firmness of his chest underneath. “I trusted you with the single task of making sure that we could figure out the rest of this project, and you fucked up!” Tears of frustration rimmed your eyes as the worry of failure overwhelmed you. As much as you hated Potions, you’d be damned if Choi Beomgyu became the reason you do poorly. 

“Listen, I seriously did just forget,” he pushed at your shoulders forcefully, to which you planted your feet into the ground harder. “Seriously, Y/N, I forgot! Now move!” 

“No! You are not,” you grabbed at his forearm and pulled it off of your shoulder, “going to blow me off again! We are going to work on this project right now, even if its the last thing I do!” 

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking move!” He yelled, finally managing to uproot your feet and push you off to the side with so much force that you landed flat on your ass, the cold hardness of the ground knocking the breath out of your lungs. From the ground, you watched helplessly while Beomgyu scrambled to grab his bat in time to hit the whirring Bludger. He was a quick enough thinker to see that there was no way he’d make the move in time, so he simply did the next best thing- turning his back to the ball and ducking his head into his chest, covering the back of his neck with his arms. 

With a sickening crack, the Bludger made foul contact with Beomgyu’s back, striking just below his left shoulder blade. The force knocked him forward, his hands barely catching himself as he met the ground harshly. He cried out in pain, the sound bouncing around the stands and piercing your veins. In a hurry, you crawled toward his heaving body and urged him to sit up with the guidance of your hands. 

“Are you okay?” The words rushed out of you in a hurry, panic crawling up the back of your throat at the shine of tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. 

“Wh-what the hell do you think?” He groaned, body shaking as he struggled to even take a breath. 

“Okay, right. Dumb question. Let’s get you to the infirmary, yeah?” His legs shook as he got them under him, something akin to a baby deer taking its first few steps. Instinctively you shot out an arm to steady him, looping your arm behind his back as effectively as you could given the height difference and placement of his injury. 

“Merlin, I think I broke my shoulder blade,” he groaned, stumbling across the uneven ground with trepidation. 

“You didn’t, I watched. It actually hit right below your shoulder blade, so if anything it’s just bruised, and you probably won’t even need a bone-healing spell, so recovery should be little more than some Devil’s Claw for the pain and-” 

“Did someone cast a babbling curse on you? Merlin’s beard. It’s bad enough that you got me hit to begin with, and now I have to listen to you run your mouth!’ His voice was still pinched with pain, an octave lower than normal as he gritted his teeth. The two of you finally reached the threshold of the castle, encapsulated by the warmth of the torches littered all inside. 

“I’m trying to help! Did you ever consider the fact that if you had showed up to our scheduled meeting time, you could have avoided being hit. I could have avoided freezing all of my extremities off, and I wouldn’t have to be helping your ass to the infirmary.” 

The noise of your bickering outside of the infirmary wing attracted the nurse to the hallway, who furrowed her eyebrow in silent question over the two of you. 

“He got hit by a Bludger, ma’am,” you supply as soon as you see her. Her eyes widen instantly as she rushed forward, helping you guide Beomgyu into an empty cot. She shooed you aside as she fretted over him, asking questions about the incident in a low, steady tone before nodding seriously. Without any kind of warning, Beomgyu was pulling the fabric of his uniform over his head, leaving his top half bared to you. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat nervously. The nurse was too busy prodding at the blossoming bruise to have heard your stutter, but Beomgyu was nothing if not aware. 

His dark eyes found your form standing just a few paces away, staring unabashedly at the faint hint of his abs that had become visible. 

“Somethin’ you like?” He drawled playfully, snapping you out of your reverie. 

“Merlin, no.” You sneered, hoping to cover the thickness of your tone as you swallowed hard. “Just trying to decide if I should tell the Quidditch team to get their backup trained for the game tomorrow night.” Beomgyu’s face fell at the implication of your words and a sting of regret struck your heart. 

“There will be no need for a backup, dear,” the nurse cooed, shuffling her feet as she gathered up a few healing supplies. She offered a bottle of innocent looking clear liquid to Beomgyu and he drank it instantly, grimacing at what you assumed to be a foul taste. “Now, dear, if you don’t fancy seeing your boyfriend in more pain as I heal him-”

“Please. He is not my boyfriend. I just helped him get here. I’ll be going now, anyway. See you tomorrow?” You asked pointedly, hoping he would understand your incessant need to finish the Potions project. He nodded slightly, and you scanned Beomgyu’s form one more time before excusing yourself to the nurse and scurrying back to your dorm. 

——

“I better hear a thank you.” Beomgyu asserted as soon as he slumped in the seat across from you. He had been so quiet in his approach to the table that you hadn’t heard him until now, rocketing your gaze up towards him from the pages of your Transfiguration book. 

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, relieved to see that he had been healed and able to return to classes just the morning after the Bludger hit. You schooled your features into cool indifference as soon as you saw his mouth twitch up at the sound of his name. “For what am I thanking you? Withholding information about the project?” 

“No,” he shook his head, springing a few carefully parted hairs loose from their spot. “For- number one-” he paused dramatically, drumming his bony fingers against the edge of the high-topped table, “providing you all the information for finishing this project.” Out of seemingly nowhere he produced a thick roll of parchment that unrolled to reveal a step by step explanation. Pages of carefully written instructions went into great detail on every step of the potions that needed to be made. A sense of relief and happiness washed through you, enough to make your hands curl into excited fists as you beamed. 

“Turns out our Seeker is good at more than catching a Snitch. She got the highest marks in this class last year, and agreed to share the notes with me.” 

“Thank you, Beomgyu. Seriously. I was beginning to worry.” 

“I know, I know. It feels good to be your savior, Y/N. Oh, which reminds me of reason number two; the fact that I spared you a Bludger hit last night.” 

“I thought we’d already covered this. Most of that encounter was your fault. Plus, your little shove left me with a bruise of my own on my ass.” Pouting, you shifted your weight in an attempt to alleviate the pain against said bruise. 

“Just admit it, Y/N,” he leaned forward, his face mere inches from your own so as not to be heard by anyone around. “You’re indebted to me. Two times over.” He was cocky, but you had to admit he had a point. As much grief as he had caused you, he had saved you from both a failing grade and an injury in just under 24 hours. 

“You’ve got a point.” Beomgyu shrunk back into his seat, cocking his head to the side as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. It seemed like he was waiting for a witty remark or some kind of argument to his words, but you kept a sure, steady gaze on him instead. Either your eyes were playing tricks on you or there was a slowly building flush of red blooming from under the collar of his cable-knit sweater onto his cheeks. Against your will, your mind reproduced the image of his bared chest from last night. 

“What do I owe you?” The question rolled off of your tongue like butter as you took the chance to lean forward to him, balancing carefully on your stool with your elbows planted onto the table. 

“I-I just,” Beomgyu frowned at his stutter, apparently upset by his own lack of confidence. His mouth opened and closed again in quick succession and you grinned wider. Another teasing lilt was right at the tip of your tongue, but the booming voice of your professor cracked the tension wide open and had you sitting back on your stool. 

——

Two days later, you stand behind your stool in Potions class, wringing your hands together nervously. Your portly professor had spent all morning swirling around the class, leaning over the cauldrons and vials present at every table. He muttered a few things to every pair of students, nodding along as they explained their approach to him. It seemed as if he were grading on the spot, since you caught a glimpse of a quill gliding over a small strip of parchment. 

Finally the elder approached your table, bushy eyebrows pinched into one another as he had already begun to scrutinize the potions laid out for him. He said nothing as he approached, quietly appraising your work. One by one, he picked up the vials one by one, peering through the clear bottom and giving them an experimental swirl. He hummed happily to himself and your heart soared. Across the table you noticed Beomgyu looking equally pleased. The professor set down the vials one by one before leveling his gaze onto you. 

“How do you think you did?” He questioned, producing the same thin strip of parchment you’d seen him use at other tables. Palms sweating, you stole a glance at Beomgyu who gave you an encouraging wave of his hand. 

“I think we did quite well, professor. It took us a bit to get the whole project together, but I feel confident in our end results here.” Nervously, your eyes skated down to his quill, tapping against the parchment rhythmically. 

“Well, I think you did quite well, the two of you. These potions are near perfect. Couldn’t make them any better myself.” It felt as if the air had been sucked from your lungs, shocking you beyond belief. Never once in your life did you think you’d be receiving such high marks in Potions- especially with Beomgyu as your partner. Your professor marked a delicate “A+” on the small strip of parchment. 

Beomgyu threw a triumphant fist in the air, wiggling in his spot with pure excitement. Your professor let out a belly laugh, spinning around to address the entire class. 

“I didn’t want to advertise this since I wanted you all to put in your best, pure efforts to the project. But, now that I’ve reviewed everyone’s work and determined the best,” you swapped a look of confusion with Beomgyu, both assuming that he was referring to you. “I am offering an award to our friends at Station 1!” He motioned to the two of you wildly, robes flailing as you ushered to the front of the room. Your peers glared at the two of you, but you were too far onto cloud nine to care. 

“Good thing I got those notes, huh?” Beomgyu muttered to you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Good thing I spent all last night making sure we actually had the potions to present.” Keeping your voice low and level to keep him from sensing just how grateful you were for his efforts. The class murmured lowly, surely trading snide remarks about the two of you until the professor cleared his throat pointedly.

From the pocket of his robes, the professor pulled out two small, clear vials. One was pressed into each of your palms, and you stared up at him with confusion. Maybe this was a sign you should have paid more attention to the types of potions around you.

“Luck potions, please use them carefully” he supplied helpfully, swirling back around to face the entire class. “Now, who’s willing to take a photo of me and our winners?” The professor bellowed, producing an old film camera from somewhere and brandishing until someone shuffled off of their stool.

——

Fresh, fluffy snow floated down in gentle waves outside the window. It was the thick of winter now, and despite your best efforts to bundle up you were still huddling into yourself for warmth as students shuffled into Potions around you. Everyone seemed especially lethargic, yearning for the break from classes that Christmas promised. You laid your head onto your folded arms, feeling just as exhausted as the atmosphere suggested. 

Sleep had been evading you lately, annoyingly deceptive as you would lay down in bed tired only to be kept awake by your racing mind for several hours. Somehow settling into your arms in this classroom was the most content you’d felt in days. And then you felt a firm push at the back of your head. There was no mistaking who the perpetrator was, especially as you heard the scrape of a stool directly across from you. 

“Good morning to you too, Beomgyu.” He was perched perfectly on his stool, eyes wide and bright. For as long as you’d known him, he had thrived in the cold and the snow. “You are obnoxiously cheerful. God damn Gryffindors.” 

“Not my fault you’re such a grouch. But I guess it is true that snakes don’t like the cold.” 

“Do you ever let up? Or do you get pleasure out of ruining my mood every single morning?” 

A grin cracked his lips as a short laugh bubbled through. “Thinking about my pleasure, are you? Concerned I’m not getting enough? I can assure you that-”

“Okay, gross. Stop. Enough. You know that isn’t what I meant.” Quite honestly, you had no time to endure his usual teasing so you simply turned your body away from him, idly watching the professor gather his things at the desk. 

“Right, let’s get going! We need all the time we can manage today!” He seemed more jubilant than usual as he centered his own cauldron onto the middle of his desk. “Today we’ll be making love potions. Amortentia, you may know. If you’ll open to page 104, you can find the procedure. It is important to note that this potion cannot make anyone truly fall in love, but it does create a strong attraction to whomever you make with it in mind. Of course, the full effect doesn’t apply unless it is consumed. Today we will simply be brewing it for practice. If done correctly, the potion will emulate-” 

“The scent of what you find most attractive,” you muttered absent mindedly, reading directly off of the page you had open in your lap. 

“Exactly, miss Y/N. Your potion today will smell like what you find most appealing.” He nodded proudly. A feeling of anxiety rose in your chest as he rattled on. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of the type of scents that would come from the potion. You were quite fond of some scents in candle form, but you wouldn’t classify them as...attractive. Even more worrying was the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you would have to reveal this concoction in front of Beomgyu, who took every chance presented to torment you. Your professor clapped his hands together, marking the beginning of your working period. 

The instructions were simple enough, so you took extra care to be sure that the   measurements were as perfect as you could get them. The room was shrouded in a hushed silence that indicated everyone was working hard on this. After all, this was the most exciting potion that’d been offered to you all year. 

“Can’t wait to see which poor dude you have a crush on,” Beomgyu chuckled as he stirred his pot exactly three times counter-clockwise. 

“Could say the same for you! I seriously petty whichever girl you’ve been fancying. Imagine being at the receiving end of your...ick. You’d better tell me who it is so I can send them a warning.” You stirred your pot the same way he had, watching the mixture turn to a stereotypical bright pink. The instructions lead you to allow the mixture to culminate for exactly two minutes before any results could be sought. 

The students who happened to work faster than you were already taking a sniff at their potions and recording the scents on their parchment, some pairs gossiping amongst one another about what they smelled. A clank of metal had you whipping your head upwards, locking eyes with Beomgyu as adjusted his small cauldron to bend over his potion. Since it wasn’t your own, there was no scent for you to distinguish, but you watched the way his eyes widened in shock for a second. 

Unfortunately you had no time to process his expressions before you had to examine the contents of your own cauldron. Before you could even take a deliberate sniff, your senses were rushed with a mix of sweetened musk, a wood that seemed somewhere between cedar and mahogany, and an addicting citrusy undertone that you eventually recognized as bergamot. You placed it immediately.

“Merlin, Beomgyu. Could you refrain from spraying your cologne right now? Why are you even carrying it with you in the middle of-” The words died in your throat as you realized how incriminating your words had become, seeing as Beomgyu had nothing but his quill in his hands. A feeling of sickness rose in the back of your throat as he let out a hearty laugh. 

“My cologne, huh? I actually didn’t even have time to put any on today,” he peered over at your parchment, his height allowing him to easily read the fragrance notes you had scribbled before complaining. “But those are the exact notes of what I wear.” 

Your cheeks flamed, the heat radiating so fully through your system that you felt yourself begin to sweat despite how cold you’d been before. There was no worse fate than this, you decided. Amortentia had betrayed you, putting you under the mercy of Beomgyu’s knowing stare. Fuck, did he really have to find out now that the smell of his cologne secretly drove you crazy? That as much as you hated the way he teased and antagonized you, somewhere deep down you’d never quite lost the crush you developed in second year? 

“I was beginning to think you might’ve had a crush on me, Y/N. Isn’t that so sweet! The stony little Slytherin finally realizing that she’s attracted to me...this is quite the revelation!” Beomgyu lamented, obviously overjoyed at the new ammo he could load into his teasing. 

As much as you searched, you could find no words to defend yourself, as the proof was truly in the potion. A bit defeated, you sunk back into your stool, content to bury your face into your hands until your next class began; but at your new level you could see Beomgyu’s own piece of parchment scrawled with what he had smelled. Reading them upside down was a bit of a challenge, but he was too busy complimenting himself to recognize your analytical stare. Written in a neat list were the scents: sage, some type of berry (juniper?), eucalyptus, something woody (cedar?). 

Your heart stuttered, a bitter laugh threatening to spill out and give yourself away. Skillfully you held it back, cursing to any god or deity who might be listening. The notes matched up exactly with the perfume you wore every single day.

——

“You asked him why he sprayed his cologne?” Georgiana gaped at you across the table in the Great Hall. The two of you had joined up for lunch just hours after your Potions class disaster.

“Yes, but that’s not all! Just before I melted into a puddle of my own dispair, I saw his list, and I swear to Merlin it’s the exact notes of my perfume! Look,” you produced the travel-sized bottle from your pocket, flipping it to the back label and listing off the exact ingedients.

“Wow,” Georgiana nodded, sinking her teeth into a piece of pizza. “That’s quite remarkable.”

“Why are you not giving me more of a reaction?” You whined, stomping your foot against the floor petulantly. She raised an eyebrow high, taking a few more chews at her food.

“You want me to be honest? Or nice?” She asked, weighing the invisible options on her hands in front of you.

“Honest, I guess.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d pick that one. You see, my sweet Y/N, the two of you have been dancing around this for years. Even though you renounced him all those years ago, I still talk to him on occasion. Not to mention he’s friends with Soobin, so I’ve been provided with some...insider information. To be honest, Soobin and I have both been waiting for the day the two of you finally stopped bickering and like...made out.”

Your face twisted unpleasantly, shocked at her words. “Insider information?” You croaked, creases forming in your forehead. Georgiana smiled devilishly and you swore you could see red horns rising from her fiery hair.

“Beomgyu talks about you all the time. Apparently, back when he was dating Klara, he would often talk to Soobin about how she never bantered with him like you did. They broke up because he kept comparing her to you. Told Soobin that he’s had a crush on you just as long as you have, but he thought you thoroughly hated him.”

“He has a crush on me?” You sputtered, stomach twisting into knots somewhere between disbelief and excitement. Georgiana full on laughed upon seeing your face, the cackle permeating through the air and turning heads.

“Well, I’m not gonna be the one to bring it up. If he’s got a crush on me, he can bring it up.” You suddenly decide, finally indulging in the pizza that had been waiting for you since you sat down.

“That’s my girl, stubborn to the very end.” Georgiana grinned and offered her hand for a high five that you eagerly returned.

——

The weekend brought you a much needed break from both schoolwork and all things Beomgyu related. Christmas break was fast approaching, and all of your professors had surprisingly laid off on assignments. It seemed as if they were just as tired of grading as you were of doing the work.

Unsurprisingly you found yourself in the library, sitting underneath the twinkling of the fairy lights set up especially for the holidays. Most other students were out socializing, so the room was pleasantly vacant. As a result you were able to settle into one of the plush velvet couches that were usually occupied.

After roaming the aisles you’d found an anthology of wizard poetry that piqued your interest. Settling beteeen the cushions of the couch with a book made you feel the most at home you ever had, cracking open the delicate binding and balancing the book in your stomach as you began to read.

There was no way to tell how long you’d been reading, but by your estimations it was only about 20 minutes before someone was looming above you. Startled, you lifted your gaze over the book to see none other than Beomgyu standing before you. He was decked out in a sage green sweater paired with slightly oversized beige slacks. He had forgone his robes, but his Head Boy pin still shined on the breast of his shirt. Typical.

“Can I help you?” You asked, finally sitting up to regard him.

“I thought you’d be here.” He said simply, shuffling on his feet awkwardly. You blinked.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you poked, slipping your book shut dramatically. “Did you want to ask me something?” Beomgyu licked at his lips before rubbing his fingers against his forehead.

“Merlin, why do you make everything so hard?” He groaned and seemingly became so exhausted that he collapsed onto the ornate rug under his feet. Seeing that you’d riled him up so much by doing practically nothing sent excitement through your veins. As much as the bickering annoyed you, there was no denying the thrill you felt when giving him back a taste of his medicine.

“What exactly am I making so hard? I don’t even know what you’re here for. To be honest I’m shocked you managed to find me in the library. I figured you would start to burn at the door and have to find a different way in.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at his pillowy lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here.” He finally began to reveal the award winning smile you’d come to know whenever he teased you. “I know what Georgiana told you.” His voice was low, so quiet that if there had been any other souls in the library you’d have missed it.

Your eyes flew open and he flushed instantly. “You two aren’t exactly quiet at the Great Hall, and I’ve got more than a few friends.” It was your turn to flush red, wondering just how many conversations between you and Georgiana had been overheard by other people. 

“So you know that I said...” 

“Why do you think I’m here? All it took was me knowing you also...you know,” he picked at the nonexistent loose threads in the carpet. Honestly, you were shocked at how reserved he had become in the face of this confrontation. All traces of his usual confidence seemed to have vanished in the moment. 

“I do like you, Beomgyu. I had a massive crush on you in second year, but then we got into that fight and-”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he countered animatedly. “You just never understood my humor. All this time, I was hoping that you would catch the hints.” 

“Hints?” It felt like your eyes were going to fall out of your head with how wide you held them. “You call those hints? I’d call those lackluster clues, at best.” 

He was quiet for a moment, examining the smirk on your lips carefully. In a moment of impulse you slid off of the couch to sit opposite him on the floor, knees touching. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, gripping at his thighs nervously. “Didn’t know how else to go about it.” 

“That’s okay, me either, obviously.” A rueful laugh escaped your lips, and he returned one just as easily. Up this close, the planes of his face were defined by the delicate light provided from the fairy lights. Shyly you shared glances, neither of you knowing quite how to deal with the charged anticipation in the air.

“Will you...come to the last Quidditch game tomorrow?” He finally spoke, snapping your attention back to him.

“Only if I don’t have to wear one of your ugly jerseies.” Feeling bold, you leaned forward just a few inches, beginning to close the gap between you gradually.

“Fine,” he acquised, leaning forward just the same as you had, his breath fanning hot over your face. “In exchange for not wearing a jersey, how about you...” he tapped at his lips cheekily. A surge of excitement tumbled through you.

“That’s a shit way of asking me to kiss you for the first time, Choi.” Nevertheless you leaned forward further, bumping your nose against his own before you finally pecked him firmly on the lips. You felt ridiculously shy, like you were having your first kiss all over again, but Beomgyu smiled reassuringly, pulling your hands into his own and linking them together. The touch encouraged you both, and your lips collided with more assurance than before.

The faint scent of pumpkin juice lingered on his lips, and you wondered how many bottles he’d drank before finally deciding to come find you. Finally you both sought a new breath, taking a moment to close your eyes and collect yourself. When they fluttered back open you saw Beomgyu staring back at you intently, pupils reflecting the strands of lights strung above you.

He mumbled something so quietly that you couldn’t even hear it at your close distance.

“What was that?” You asked, wondering if you’d caught the end of a charmingly romantic thought.

“I said you’re in need of practice.” He smirked, leaning back of his hands cockily.

“Fuck you, man,” you slapped at his shoulder with a firm clap. He gasped, a hand covering his heart as if he were being sworn into a committee.

“Already? I didn’t take you for such an impure heart!” Another hearty laugh bounced around the library and you ducked your head into your hands, resigning to the fact that you were stuck with him.

[greensydney]

Wellness Segments from The Friend Zone Podcast

This is where I’ll be listing Fran’s Wellness Segments. It will be updated regularly. Any specific products/stores mentioned will be linked :)

Ep. 1: It’s Ok to Log Off  

Being the first episode, Fran starts us off easy with a loving suggestion to take a social media break. At the time of this recording, “Twitterless Assante” was reaping the benefits of taking mindless twitter scrolling out of his life for some time.

Ep. 2: Family Matters  

This is where we start digging in and doing the work. Here, Fran asks us to look within to resolve family disputes that have gone unchecked. Have the talks that you have been avoiding, even if it feels uncomfortable. Remember to come from a place of compassion when approaching loved ones, and to not take anything personally. Which is a theme throughout many of the early episodes, as it’s the 2nd agreement in The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, one of the many books Fran has suggested.

Ep. 3: Take 5  

Work on building and maintaining a healthy morning routine. This helps set the tone of the day. By leaving our phone out of this part of the day, we can avoid things like waking up to a long, angry text or some other drama  and letting that guide how the rest of day goes. Basically, set the tone of your day before taking in information from anyone else. 

Ep. 4: Surrender 

Meditate, meditate, meditate. 

Osho books are great for learning more about quieting the mind, as recommended by Fran. Sadhguru is another great teacher who I look to for insight on meditation, mindfulness, parenting, and just life in general. He has a channel on YouTube with tons of videos. Fran also recommends trying Mala beads to assist with meditation, or maybe journaling afterwards. She really just stresses the importance of beginning a meditation practice, without fear of doing it “right” or “wrong”.

Ep. 5: Even Martha Went to Jail  

No clear-cut Wellness Segment for this week, but the main gist of things was: create what you want, what feels good for you. Critics will appear for everyone, no matter how great they are, so do you. Don’t keep yourself from creating things because of fear of how others will receive it.

Ep. 6: Tacos & Quickweave 

In your journal, dissect the relationship you are in. Asking questions like, “Why are you with this person? Who are you *really* doing this relationship for?”   For singles, ask questions like, “What am I *really* looking for, in a person? How do I want to feel when I’m with them? How do I want to show up in their lives? How do I want them to show up in my life?” For those resistant to relationships, ask yourself why and really work through it to get those answers that you seek. ~meditate, meditate, meditate ~

Ep. 7: The Choir & The Competition Are Out 

Parents: Sit with our children and start asking them questions about their interests. Fran shares how she was impacted by her mom not being more encouraging about her becoming a singer, so she wants us to know how important it is to truly listen when our kids ask to pursue new things, even if it isn’t exactly what we pictured for them. 

For everyone, even those who don’t have children or maybe they aren’t quite at the age to start discussing these things: we were all a child at some point. Many people can benefit from asking ourselves if the profession we are in is for you, or if you were just trying to please our own parents. It’s never too late to begin learning more about anything that excites you.

Ep. 8: Fitness Regine Hunter  

(I’m pretty sure they purposely didn’t spell it “regime” because of the difficulty for many in pronouncing the word. lmao)

In this episode, Fran speaks on the importance of holistic health and wellbeing, sharing how much it has shaped who she is and improved her life. She wants us to really sit with ourselves and think about the things we want to work on. Ask, “What can I do to ensure that I’m being the most beautiful *me* possible?” From skin and hair care, to diet, to fitness, to the way we talk to ourselves or others. All the little things that make up holistic living. No quick fixes! We’re here to werrrrrrk, hunty. 

“Forget the internet for a second. Forget what the Instagram models look like, we’re talking about YOU...” - Fran the MF Goat.  

Implement a fitness regime that works for you. Maybe it’s part of your morning routine, maybe it’s an after dinner thing; everyone gets to choose what is best for them and that’s part of the beauty of this life. :) Try a few things and see what works. There is an emphasis on the importance of starting slow, allowing your mind and body to get used to new activity. Fran started off with walking, increasing her distance over time, and then turned that into jogging when it felt right for her. Blogilates and Yoga With Adriene are YouTube channels she mentions here. I have been hooked to yoga ever since trying a few videos from  Adriene. Yoga by Biola is another great channel to check out. Biola has this video, “Restorative Yoga for Collective Trauma”, which I love. I learned of her from The Friend Zone earlier in 2020. 

Skin and Hair: Check out Frans YouTube channel to see all the informative videos she has on all-natural beauty and health tips. Personally, I really like Naptural85 for hair videos as my curl pattern is very similar to hers. Click around on suggested videos to find the ones that speak to you. 

Ep. 9: Don’t Forget the Feet  

OIL UP! From head-to-toe. Get that moisture. Especially in these colder months. Hands, feet, nails, toenails...literally everywhere. Dustin cannot get over the importance of the feet. Fran says this aztec healing clay is great for dry, cracked feet, and she hinted at its ability to fix some facial skin woes as well. Extra Fran tip: put a small amount of oil on your nail beds before painting them. This protects the skin and promotes nail growth. I tried this myself and it’s a game changer in my nail health! They used to get cracks in them once they start getting to a certain length, but if i keep them oiled up, they are smooth as precious little stones. :) 

Ep. 10: A$AP Shirley Caesar  

This episode reminds us that finances, too, can impact our total feeling of well-being. The Friends all want us to get our finances in order, taking the tiniest of baby steps, if needed. Fran’s 3 things to cut back on: 

Eating Out

Online Shopping

Places like Target, where you go for 1 thing and leave with a full cart.

Making these sacrifices adds up. The goal is that eventually, any big things that are weighing on our mental due to finances can more easily be dealt with.

Ep. 11: And I’m Telling You, I’m NOT Going!

It’s all about skin-care in this wellness segment! Starting with what goes into your body, and ending with what goes on your body. First off: DRINK LOTS OF WATER! This not only promotes healthy skin but as we all know, it’s just good for the body in general. The body runs nice and smoothly when it’s hydrated from the inside-out. 

If you need to cut down on your caffeine intake (I’m right there with ya), Fran suggested Yerba Mate. It’s a natural source of caffeine and much cleaner than what comes in other energy drinks. I must say, I feel like the naturally occurring caffeine just hits different. I was hyyype the first few times I got a Yerba Mate instead of my usual orange Red Bull! Energy drink isn’t the only form to get your Yerba fix, thankfully. It’s sold as a loose leaf tea, or in bagged tea as well. I LOVE coffee though, and I am not giving that up so easy. I find that bringing mindfulness to my habits with it, helps me to not consume too much.

Now, for the outside of the body: washing and moisturizing daily is imperative. This may be obvious to some, but it can also feel difficult for those with a really busy schedule. I know for me, as a mom, there has been many times when I only had one chance to take a shower on a given day, and if I didn’t take it, I was always sorry. Or I would take a rushed, half-effort shower and get dressed immediately after without oil, lotion, anything. Having a routine in place for daily washing and moisturizing (that works with my sporadic life) helps me make sure it won’t get missed. Again, as with episode 9, OIL UP! Coconut oil is a great choice, but my skin just drinks it up like water. Sesame oil is a nice alternative because it’s a bit thicker. It was hard for me to get used to smelling like a huge sesame seed though, not gonna lie. But there are so many different oils and butters out there to love our bodies with, just use some trial and error to find which one(s) work best for you.

Last thing: Bedding. Change it at least once a week. Get on the silk pillowcase train! Or if you real fancy, like Fran, get you a full-on silk sheet set. Cotton sheets soak up all the moisture from our skin that we work so hard and lovingly on.

Ep. 12: The Shut Down Mixtape

House cleaning time! Clean your fridge, clean your closets, clean your desk drawers. Clean everything! Trying to especially bring focus to areas that are often overlooked in your regular daily cleaning. By doing this, we clear out old energy, removing heaviness from our homes that we may not even realize is there. I personally can vouch that this helps with anxiety and even lifts my depression symptoms as well. It feels good when the space I live in looks and smells nice, so taking the effort is more than worthwhile.

Ep. 13: Oh God…

Get in touch with what religion/spirituality mean to YOU. This one was hard for me because I wasn’t raised with much knowledge of (or respect for, sadly) religion. As I grew, I became super interested in the various religions and how they affect the lives of others - good or bad. I’ve now learned to adapt my own spiritual practices that support me and help me get by. And this is life changing.

Ep. 14: Say It Like You Mean It

Here, we are instructed to find out what our individual love language is. This comes from the book The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. The 5 Love Languages are: 

Quality Time

Acts of Service

Receiving Gifts

Words of Affirmation

Physical Touch

You may already have an idea of what your primary love language is, but you can get some more information on that by reading the book or by taking quizzes on the book’s website. Knowing your love language, as a single, can help you define what you need from a partner. As someone in a relationship, it can help both partners learn how to best make sure everyone knows they are loved and valued. 

Ep. 15: Yo Mama

Scalp Care for Winter Weather!

½ Cup Olive Oil ~ Seals in moisture

2 Tbsp. Honey (Fran uses Raw honey) ~ Creates pretty shine

½ Cup Coconut Milk ~ Adds protein

½ an Avocado ~ Healthy fat

½ a Banana ~ Softens hair

Blend all ingredients into a creamy conditioner, which should come out a nice light greenish color. 

I keep forgetting coconut milk at the store or else I’d have been tried this one, smh *face palm* But I will edit to add my review after I finally do this. :) 

Ep. 16: Non Profit & Chill

This episode had no segments, but we can still gain a wellness tip from it. Recorded right after Fran returned from a trip to Africa, she had a ton of insight to share on why it’s so important to be an ethical consumer. This episode was a great one to re-listen to as it reminded me that I am reading labels and the “about” pages on brand’s websites for a valid reason that is important to me, not just following trends. Dang imposter syndrome, always trying to step in and ruin everything (shoutout to the Friend Zone for teaching me about that as well, in a later episode.)

Fair Trade Errything !!!

Ep. 17: There’s A Song For That

No wellness segment this week, per say, but again I’ll summarize the episode to make it wellness for us all. The friends basically dode over their favorite break-up songs, from the deepest of soul, to the pettiest of rap songs. Many genres listed, and many bangers. This episode is a great listen for those going through a breakup, or even if you’re a big fan of the episodes where the Friends just let loose and have fun.

Ep. 18: Don’t You Go To Work?

Inspired by Assante and his newly purchased stones, which he is carrying safely in his pocket, Fran suggested that us listeners get in on the magic as well by getting our own stones. Starting with Citrine. This stone is a light orange color, and can be found online or in local crystal stores in most cities. Often referred to as “the merchants stone”, Citrine is believed to attract success. Fran offered the idea of laying it on some money, because she did it and got a random check in the mail soon after...And I kid you not - I did it, and the saaame thing happened to me. I was shook and beyond grateful!

Other stones mentioned here are Lapis Lazuli and Black Tourmaline. Lapis is a pretty, royal blue shade, usually with gold flakes in it. Lapis is known as the “communication stone”. Black Tourmaline is, you guessed it, black, and often found in shiny pieces. Fran says she keeps one of these by her bedside to absorb negative thoughts; letting it cleanse her energy before bed.

Stores mentioned on this episode: Rock Star, and Namaste shop. Both New York based but have online shopping available. Personally, and this is gonna sound real woo-woo, but I prefer picking out stones in person because then I can actually feed off of their energy to pick the right one for me. Those living in a small town, there is probably a crystal shop not too far away.

Ep. 19: The Friend Zone & The Read Mash Up Pt. 1

Wellness this week: be messy and silly with your friends. For me, I don’t currently have any real life friends to hang out with, plus COVID, so my family gets to enjoy all my silly mess. Life just cannot be lived being serious 100% of the time!

Ep. 20: 2015, I’ma Let You Finish, But 2016…

I loved this episode because it brings us back to our journals. Fran asks the guys and us listeners to reflect on two simple, but powerful questions to answer at the end of each year:

What are 3 things you discovered about yourself this year that you love? Things that you feel will propel you into the next year, as a person, career-wise, and as a whole. Write freely about how you plan on maintaining and evolving.

What are 3 things you discovered about yourself this year that you did not like? Maybe some of these things are hard to face. Reflect on how you’ve allowed them to hold you back and what you are doing to adjust them.

[honeyedhoseok]

Once More | V2 Drabble

Genre | smut

Word Count | 6.1K

Warnings | Lots of swearing. Sex. Dirty talk. Cheating and doing-the-do in the worst place possible a.k.a Y/N having NO conscience when it comes to Taehyung.

Summary | Taehyung gets the grand tour of you and Hongbin’s apartment and is determined to leave his mark with you in every room of the house.

A/N | I’m fully aware that this is way too long to be a drabble, but I’m going to continue calling it that!! P.S. Count how many times I used the phrase “once more” in this, I bet it’s a lot lmao. Enjoy! <3

You know it’s wrong. You absolutely know it is. 

It started with Taehyung coming over to keep you company—you were going to be alone for the weekend while Hongbin was on a business trip to the other side of the country—and it was a cold and rainy Friday and you had nothing better to do, so, you’d called him up. 

He’d stepped into your apartment looking a completely unfair amount of delicious. A leather jacket donned his thick upper body, and he had a wide, black headband pushing his bangs back from his forehead—simultaneously keeping his ears warm from the wind whipping around outside and providing a bit of effortless fashion to his outfit. 

He’d shed his jacket immediately upon coming in, revealing a loose white T-shirt underneath. You tried not to make your trailing eyes obvious when he bent down to unlace his boots, grazing over the flexed muscles of his shoulders and back through the thin material. 

It was unfair, really. He’d planned the whole thing on purpose, you think—no simple-minded man would ever be able to dress themselves this good.

You’d watched Taehyung look around. “Oh that’s right,” you’d said. “You haven’t seen the apartment yet, have you?”

Taehyung had hummed in agreement, looking about as interested in an apartment tour as one would be about going to the dentist. 

It probably didn’t help that before you’d asked him to come over, you two had been going at it through text in a rather flirty fashion. There may or may not have been mention of what Taehyung was going to do to you the next time he saw you.  

His smokey gaze had trailed you from head to toe before he gestured an arm out. “Lead the way, madam,” he’d said lowly. 

You’d walked into the kitchen, turning around in a circle. “Well, this is the kitchen, where I’m supposed to cook meals but a lot of nothing happens—” 

And that’s how you found yourself pressed up against one of the counters, Taehyung’s lips smashed against yours as he greedily swallowed the rest of your sentence with indecent licks into your mouth with his sinful tongue.  

So yeah, you know it’s wrong. But with Taehyung’s knee spreading your legs apart, his hands entangled in your hair and pulling your head to one side so that he can attach his lips to the soft spot under your ear—it all seems so right. 

“Keep going with the tour,” he murmurs against your clavicle, fingers digging into your sides. “Tell me more.” 

“Uh, okay,” you say, opening your eyes briefly and looking for something else to talk about while Taehyung trails his lips down your jaw and back. “We um, bought that table set from—oh!” 

Taehyung leans down to wrap his hands around your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you over to said kitchen table, setting you down on it so that you two are almost eye-level before pressing his lips back to your neck.  

“—table’s, really, nice—” he murmurs in between nips at your shoulder, pulling the soft fabric of your loose T-shirt down to give himself more access. “Sturdy.” 

Okay, so maybe you’d worn something loose and drapey on purpose. Maybe you’d worn the leggings that you knew made your ass look good. Maybe.  

Taehyung suddenly grabs your hips through those leggings, bringing your heated core to rub against the very obvious bulge in his soft, black joggers. You realize only then that you two are sort of wearing matching sweats, and the thought has you smiling into Taehyung’s kiss.  

“Next?” he grunts, scooping you off the table in one swift motion, and you wrap your legs around his thin waist, locking your hands behind his neck.  

You two make out as Taehyung walks—and briefly, you find yourself wondering where in the hell he got all this strength from. As he pulls away from your mouth again, you nibble on his bottom lip a little, earning a whimper-like noise from the back of Taehyung’s throat that has you giddy realizing you could produce such a sound from him.  

He lays you—or rather, you fall—back on the couch, and Taehyung wastes no time hovering over you, his knee back between your legs and placing light pressure on your most sensitive areas.  

You squirm a little as he leans down, eyes alight with want, dark pupils searching yours with a kind of hunger that makes your insides feel like jello.  

“Tell me about this couch,” he murmurs. “Real leather?” 

“Fake,” you gasp as Taehyung’s hand dives under your shirt, fingers finding purchase around one of your nipples as he shoves your bra out of the way. “Authentic leather is—“ 

“Expensive,” he says, grinning. “I know. What about the TV? How many inches?” 

You smirk at him, but you shrug. “Fifty?” 

Taehyung’s hand stills. “Just fifty?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Oh, he could have done better than that, Y/N!” 

You narrow your eyes at him, realizing suddenly it’s a jab at Hongbin. Taehyung hated that Hongbin was so well off—not because Taehyung was jealous, but because Hongbin was the type to tell other people about his accomplishments. Often.   

You reach up to bring his mouth back to yours, hoping to kill the game and focus on other, more important topics—such as the way your underwear are now sticking to you in a most uncomfortable fashion—but Taehyung stiffens, letting his mouth hover inches from yours.  

“Tae,” you whine, and you can tell by the flash of humour in his eyes he’s about to keep you from getting what you want.  

“You’re being greedy,” he scolds, leaning down enough to press a smoldering—albeit, closed-mouth—kiss to your lips that leaves you narrowing your eyes. “What about the rest of my tour?” 

Leave it to Taehyung to be such a fucking tease at a time where you want to speed things along. He’s good for this—amping up your emotions and then slowing everything down again when you get into it.  

His hand slides from your breast, fingertips trailing along the curves of your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your leggings. Your bite your bottom lip as you watch him with hooded eyes, watch his tongue run along his teeth in contemplation.  

It’s not like Taehyung hasn’t been there before. But right now, the atmosphere is heavy in the room because the realization dawns that it’s just you two, alone, in an apartment again for the first time since—  

“You’re pretty,” he murmurs, suddenly. “You know that?” 

The earnest tone to his voice makes your skin flush, a warmth that travels from your cheeks to the skin of your neck, shoulders and downward. You wonder what he sees right now, with you laying underneath him, your hair pushed back from your face, lips probably swollen and dry from all the kissing, eyes searching his for a hint of insincerity.  

You wonder, also, if he realizes what you see right now. Him, hovering above you with one hand pressed into the couch cushion near your head, the other tracing patterns into the soft skin of your lower stomach. Taehyung’s pretty lips parted, shallow breaths escaping. The smooth, tanned skin of his cheeks, his forehead, his neck and the vein protruding that you want so desperately to run your tongue along. He’s gorgeous—unbelievably so—and he’s yours, if you want him to be.  

To curb the feeling warming up in your gut, you bat your eyelashes at him.  

“Just pretty?” you ask. “I’m not sexy in this outfit made solely for cleaning the house or practicing yoga?” 

Taehyung grins. He pulls you up so that you’re both sitting, blinking the fog out of his eyes as the same ferocity from earlier replaces it. “Oh you’re plenty sexy,” he states. “Come here.” 

You scoot closer to him and he envelops your mouth with his again. He kisses you soft at first, warming you back up, and then his hands are in your hair, mouth slanted against yours with fervor, his tongue sneaking out to lace with yours.  

You settle back into it; this you can do. What you can’t do is think too hard about the freckle that dots the tip of Taehyung’s nose. Or the way he smiles. Or the cute little cackle he lets out when he finds a funny meme on his phone that he just has to share with you. 

“Next—room,” you breathe in between kisses. “The tour?” 

Taehyung pulls back from you a few moments later, looking at you with smoldering eyes. You raise your eyebrows at him in question.  

“Yes,” he murmurs, pulling you off the couch. “Continue, angel.” 

He lets you walk, but wraps his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder so that you have to do an awkward waddle-walk with his weight dragging you down. You’re in the hallway, now, with three rooms left to conclude your game.  

You point to the first door to the left. “Guest bathroom,” you say.  

“Nothing to see in there,” Taehyung replies. You giggle as he presses light kisses up the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Next?” 

“Guest bedroom,” you say, the two of you walking to the door on the far right. You push it open and Taehyung stops mouthing at your skin long enough to take a glance.  

The guest room has a minimalist appeal to it—a plain, white duvet sits on the full-sized bed with a dresser and small bookshelf off to the side. Your desktop computer is tucked into the corner of the room, and some paintings and a rug are all that offer any creative flair. Hongbin wanted to decorate more, but you’d chided him against it. It was a room that was rarely ever going to get used, what was the need in putting expensive decor in?  

Taehyung’s hands disappear from your sides as he walks into the room, looking around at everything, peering through the blinds at the parking lot below.  

“I’m not getting a good vibe from this room,” he says, shaking his head. “Something’s definitely off.” 

You see a trace of a smile skirting around the edges of his lips, and you decide to play along, again.  

“Oh?” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Tell me more, interior designer Kim.” 

He’s still sporting that thick black headband even though it’s comfortably warm in your apartment, and you watch him shake the long bangs sitting on his forehead out of his face before he speaks.  

“Come sit on the bed,” he says, running his fingers along the duvet. “Maybe this room needs something . . . sexy?” 

You roll your eyes but walk in after him. You sit on the edge of the mattress, watching Taehyung round the side of the bed with appreciative eyes. 

“Lie down.”

You do, stretching a little as you lift your arms over your head. You feel your shirt slide to reveal your stomach, and Taehyung’s eyes dart down at it. He licks his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue before he speaks, “No, no, that’s not it. There’s something else wrong.”

Taehyung leans over you on the bed, fingertips trailing the expanse of exposed skin underneath your belly button. The action has goosebumps arising, his face hovering inches from yours so that with every exhale, you feel a whisper of his breath across your lips.  

“Kiss me,” you say quietly.  

And he does. Taehyung kisses you until you’re breathless, until your head is spinning, until your mouth and lips feel dry and used, until your hands are entangling themselves in the soft tresses of his hair, pulling the black headband off and throwing it somewhere on the floor so the strands hang and tickle your checks when he pulls back to look at you, panting.  

“There’s one more stop on the tour,” he murmurs. “Want to finish up?” 

You nod, and Taehyung gives you one more soft kiss before pulling you up and off the bed. You trail him into the hallway, twisting the knob on the door to your bedroom and slowly stepping inside. 

It’s a bit more decorated than the guest room—a fluffy, grey duvet covers the bed with matching throw pillows and decorations. Hongbin cared a lot about aesthetics, and so you’d went with a cool-toned theme for the master, but you’d kept it feeling more like home with small added decorations to suit your own taste. A framed picture of you two sat on the bedside and a fluffy, decorative rug lay in the center of the room. There were string lights around your vanity, and a bookshelf with lots of Hongbin’s files and notebooks filling the shelves. 

You realize suddenly, upon looking at the room with another person, that it still looked like no one lived there. The bed was made perfectly like a hotel room, the curtains were drawn and not a single thing was out of place; even the throw pillows were placed in their proper spots on the duvet. The only thing slightly messy about the room was the dirty laundry basket—but even that was passable to the eye because the outside was a patterned grey fabric that fit with the theme.  

You don’t have anything to say about it, not even a joke to throw Taehyung’s way.  

When you look at his face finally, it turns your stomach to wonder what he might be thinking. He tongues the inside of his cheek in thought, his face impassive as he gives the room a slow once-over.  

“So, this is the master,” you say quietly. “This is—”

“Your bedroom,” he answers, and his tone makes your heartbeat triple. It’s a low murmur, so low it sounds like a hum. Taehyung takes a deep breath and walks toward the bed, spreading a small wrinkle on the duvet out with his hand. “What happens here?” 

“Taehyung,” you say, shaking your head. You can’t read the atmosphere anymore, and it feels awkward suddenly. What were you thinking, bringing him in here?  

Taehyung is quiet for a minute, before a wicked grin splits his face. “Now this room feels right.” 

“What?” You say, shocked.  

In seconds, Taehyung has you on your back on the bed, his face devilish in nature as he crawls over top of you. You look at him wide eyes, wondering how he can’t hear how loud your heartbeat is pounding underneath your thin t-shirt.  

“This is where it happens, huh?” Taehyung says slowly, drawing his face near yours. “This is where you and Hongbin make love?”  

The comment is mocking, as always. You swallow harshly, unsure of how to answer. Taehyung’s nose skims along your jawline and you close your eyes, fighting the urge to melt under his light touches. Even though you don’t answer, he continues. 

“In a room like this? It’s pristine in here,” he says, tutting under his breath. “He must not do it right.” 

You dare to ask, “Do-do what, right, exactly?” 

Taehyung stops tracing long enough to lick a bold stripe along your neck, letting his teeth graze the spot. How he’s able to keep such control over his actions for so long you have no idea—you just want him to kiss you again already. Take off your clothes. Touch you, for God’s sake. 

“Fuck you,” he hums simply. “Make you cum.”  

The words are enough to make your core clench, and Taehyung pulls back to look into your eyes. Back is the emotion filling them from earlier, except it’s intensified. Taehyung’s mind is set now, and there’s no going back—but his isn’t the only one.  

You and Taehyung hadn’t pushed your boundaries much. You were careful about your sneaking around—never going all the way because you were never fully alone with him. But this time was different. There was a bed, a locked door, and a complete evening by yourself. If you were being honest, you’d been contemplating those thoughts since the moment he stepped into your apartment.  

There’s something so dangerously enticing about sneaking around with Taehyung that your brain can't quite wrap around how wrong it is until after it happened. He was too easy to get caught up in, too easy to just be with—which is exactly what was happening again as you opened your mouth to respond to him.  

You pull him close, letting your lips brush against his a little as you whisper, “Show me, then,” you say. “Show me how you’d do it, Taehyung.” 

It’s a brash move. It’s a brash move you’ve never made before in your life, but Taehyung responds to it exactly how you hoped he would: his eyes darken, and he pulls back as if to give you a moment to breathe, to re-process what you just said to him.  

“No games,” you said, feeling shaky and breathless. “I’m tired of waiting.” 

Yes, your lust may have been consuming your thoughts, pushing out any sensibility you had left and replacing it with an unrelenting desire for Taehyung—but at the same time, it was a statement filled with the truth.  

Since that fated day when Taehyung came back into your life, your physical chemistry with him was unmatched when compared to any previous person you’d been with. He made you feel alive, made the bones that made up your body feel like they were bursting with light between the joints when he looked at you sometimes. If you believed in soulmates—you weren’t sure yet—every moment with Taehyung made you a little more convinced.  

But the physical attraction was just the surface of what you had with him. Here you were, in a long-term relationship with Hongbin, but you were constantly thinking about Taehyung. Texting him. Calling him. Spilling your guts to him when something was wrong. Wanting to see him, touch him, kiss him.  

Maybe you were in love with him. Or, rather, you were still in love with him from all those years ago.  

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asks, swallowing, and then licking his dry lips.  

Your train of thought stutters at the question, still lingering on the concept of loving him and so your eyes widen a fraction. Taehyung takes it as hesitation. 

He leans back further. “We don’t have to do this, Y/N—” 

“No, no, no,” you say, finally gathering your bearings. You place a slightly shaking hand on his chest—when you see your fingers trembling you ball them up in his shirt, tugging him down a little. “God, I’m—can you just, kiss me?” 

“I’d be honored to,” he murmurs with a smile, dipping his head down to press his lips softly against yours once more.  

They envelop yours with a fervor, diving in to capture the very breath from your lungs and leave you lingering in the afterthought of what it’s like to be intimate with Taehyung. He is all breath and lips, nips and grazes along your skin, hands grasping and mouths brushing and complete and utter melting into the way that he caresses your body.  

You lift Taehyung’s white t-shirt over his head, letting your nails scrape between the dent in his shoulder blades as he hovers above you. Your quiet, neat bedroom with Hongbin is filled with the smacks of mouths, sighs from you as Taehyung ravishes your neck with his lips, and the shuffling of bodies and light thumps as clothes are removed one by one and tossed onto the floor. 

When you’re in just your panties and Taehyung is in his briefs, the two of you pause, eyeing the other up as if to reassess the situation once more, give yourself one more time to stop it. But you don’t want to. All you can think about is how it’s never like this with Hongbin—your heart hasn’t raced this fast in years, your hands haven’t literally been shaking with want, nervousness and excitement because Hongbin has never whispered how beautiful your body is before giving the bottom curve of your breast a sensual nip.  

You’re not shy with Taehyung. Your upper body on full display for him is nothing, because he looks at you like you are the most ethereal human he’s ever laid his eyes on.  

Sexy isn’t a word you’ve thrown around before today, but you know that it completely and totally describes Taehyung. He is so confident with himself that it has you hot and needy under his touch, a demeanor that was unknown to him when you were teenagers. A brief memory crosses your mind of having to remind Taehyung that it was okay to be nervous during one of your first times having sex when he couldn’t get it up—but he has absolutely no problem with that now.  

His length, rock hard in his pants and pressing against your hip as he rests his lower half against your body has your mouth watering with need. You want to see him naked, and when you tell him that, he has the audacity to chuckle between presses of his lips to yours.  

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs. “Ladies first, baby.” 

The nickname sends a shock of nostalgia tingling down your spine but you welcome it, pushing Taehyung so that he’s sitting back on his knees. His dark eyes wander your frame as your hook your thumbs the sides of your panties, shimmying them down your legs and kicking them off and onto the floor.  

“I want to taste you,” Taehyung murmurs, placing his hands on your knees, edging them apart a little bit. “Can I?” 

Your face flushes with the bluntness of his words, but you swallow the tightness in your throat and nod, settling back onto the pillows—Hongbin’s pillows, on his side. Taehyung presses a line of kisses up your leg, taking his time and pressing a few around the place you’ve been waiting for him to ravish since—well, probably since he entered the apartment an hour or so ago.  

“So pretty,” he murmurs somewhere near your thigh.  

You close your eyes as his breath fans out over your pubic area, insides quivering with want as you try to calm your racing heart. You bite onto your lip, trying not to let on how desperate you are for him to touch you—and then he does. 

Taehyung dives in for a kiss between your legs, causing your mouth to take on a silent ‘o’ shape as he licks all the words, thoughts, and brain processes out of your body with confident strokes of his sinful mouth.  

“Fuck, Taehyung—” you gasp, back arching off the bed a little, “Slow down, fuck—” 

Taehyung hums contentedly against your clit, probably chuckling at how powerless you are underneath him. His right arm hooks around your thigh, pushing it up and over his shoulder so his mouth can fit better against the crook of your sex. You feel lightheaded with the way his mouth licks into you, almost embarrassed at how wet you are—not just from his mouth, but from the essences he’s coaxing out of you.  

Your thighs feel hot and sticky, and when Taehyung’s other hand slithers between your legs to press one finger between your folds while he licks smaller ministrations onto your clit, you think you might just lose your mind right then and there.  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed by the whimpers and whines that tumble past your lips as Taehyung works his hand-and-mouth combo that has your walls tightening around his long digit pumping in and out of you. When he adds another, you can’t help but mewl his name. 

 “Taehyung, please, oh my—god, don’t stop—” 

He takes a breather from your battered clit to look up at you with a smirk adorning his mouth, accompanied by everything he just coaxed out of you that makes his chin shiny and glistening.  

“You close?” he asks, slowing down the pace of his fingers so that you can get better adjusted. You’re sure he can tell from the tenseness of you body, the way you’re clenching around his fingers like your life depends on it.  

 “Like this?” he murmurs, and begins hitting that spot within you that has you breathless again. “Cum for me, baby.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper, “Tae—” 

You fall apart around his fingers incredibly quick—a few more strokes is all your insides can take before Taehyung has a moan tearing from your throat with a volume that you can’t remember reaching before now.  

When it feels like you can breathe again, like the world has stopped spinning around you from the force of the orgasm that just ripped through your body, you slump back down onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling of your bedroom in a daze.  

Taehyung crawls over you, coming into your line of sight with a grin plastered on his mouth, and you tug him down for a kiss that has you tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You don’t even care at this point, so fucked out that the bitterness doesn’t bother you like it usually would. 

“You okay?” he asks as he moves to press a small kiss underneath your ear. His tongue traces the shell before he speaks in a quiet voice, “What’s next?”

 There’s only one thing on your mind: “Condom.” You breathe the word out and Taehyung stiffens, pulling back so he can see your eyes again. 

You realize then that Taehyung was only thinking you were going to go to your usual lengths—a bit of touching, some oral maybe—just with the added luxury and excitement of doing it in a bed. 

But now that Taehyung’s strong, beautiful hands aren’t between your legs, the ache has returned. It’s an ache that you feel when you’re around him, when he licks his lips a certain way, or when he adjusts his pants, or when his shirt rises above his waist to show off the light trail of hair leading down into his underwear. And you know what you need to sate it. 

“You sure?” he asks, but the way he bites hard on his bottom lip lets you know he isn’t opposed to it whatsoever. 

“I want you,” you whisper, leaning up from the bed to connect your lips with his again. 

They’re soft against you own, pretty petals meant just for your undoing. Nothing ever feels wrong with Taehyung, and you know that’s your downfall but you can’t do anything about it. With his body pressing into yours in the right places, his cock still half-hard in his briefs and pressing against your inner thigh while he leaves small, soft kisses against the line of your jaw, you know this is what you want. Need. 

You lift your hips against Taehyung’s, reminding him with a brush of your still-wet core against the head of his dick. He stutters against your jaw, and his hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb resting against the curve of your bottom lip. When he looks at you again his eyes are darker, the lids sitting low in a way that makes your stomach clench. 

“You want to fuck,” he murmurs, “right here? In this bed?”

You swallow, heart beating fast in your chest. “Yes.”

Taehyung laughs—actually laughs. “You little minx,” he tuts, shaking his head. 

And then he kisses you—hard—with all teeth and tongue; the breath is stolen from your lungs with the heat of his movements. If there is one thing you know about Taehyung, it’s that he is turned on by shamelessness. When you are quaking with need and willing to get it any way that you can from him is when he’s at his peak—which was precisely what was happening now. 

After separating his lips from yours with an audible smack, he moves off the bed to grab his wallet from his jeans, where a single condom sits in one of the cloth slats. You don’t have time to make a joke about why it’s there before he is removing his briefs, letting his cock spring free from the fabric. When it bobs in the air you swallow harshly, trying not to show how your mouth is quite literally watering at the sight. 

He crawls back on the bed, sitting back on his heels at the end while he works his cock with one hand, bringing the aluminium packet to his mouth and ripping it with his teeth. He spits the piece out on the bed, and you internally remind yourself to make sure it’s picked up later. 

“Like what you see?” he asks with lowered eyes, watching you watch him fist himself and pump up and down his length a few times. 

You hum somewhere in the back of your throat, unable to form words just yet. You sneak a hand down to your clit, running your fingers over the sensitive nub while warming yourself back up. 

Taehyung watches you, his bangs sticking to his forehead a little now from the warmth filling the room—both the heat coming from the vents and the heat of your actions mingling in a way that makes the room feel stifling. 

For just a moment, you try to remember what it was like when you and Taehyung were teenagers, sneaking in little moments in your parents’ houses while they were at work. It was never this hot or needy—though you’re sure your little teenage heart would say otherwise—and it hits you that you and Taehyung aren’t the same people you used to be, but your attraction for each other has never waned.  

Taehyung slides the condom over his length, now fully hard, and his eyes meet yours once again.  

“You okay?” he asks in reassurance for what feels like the millionth time.  

You nod as he crawls back over you, pressing a kiss to the skin of his bare shoulder as he settles between your legs. You hook one over his hip on instinct, dragging him forward with a dig of your heel into the space underneath his butt. You need him, and you need him now.  

When Taehyung finally sinks into you, your head kicks back out of instinct, feeling every glorious inch of him sliding in between your walls in a stretch that is so foreign but so, so good. He releases a low moan as well, the sound sending a shiver up your spine at the way it sounds filled with joy—relief, even.  

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning his head onto your shoulder and nipping at the skin there, “So fucking tight, baby.” 

“I know,” you whimper out, digging your heel a little harder and lifting your hips. “Move, Taehyung, please. Just, move—” 

He obliges, covering your mouth with his to muffle the sounds of your whimpers as he starts a rhythm. Every dip of his hips back down to meet yours has a small, mewling sound spilling from your lips that you have no time to be embarrassed about—everything just feels that good.  

Taehyung’s cock hits all the right places inside you, eliciting a feeling of fullness unknown to your quivering insides. You hold onto his shoulders, digging into his soft, tan skin with blunt nails while he does the same with the hand pressing your knee back, allowing him to angle his hips in a way that has you seeing spots. Your head has inched up towards the bed frame now, and every snap of his hips makes a soft knock of the headboard against the wall.  

“Tae—ugh, oh my god, Taehyung,” you whimper, closing your eyes. You almost don’t want to say anything for the sake of ruining the moment, but he urges you on with breathy narrations.  

“Yeah?” he says, voice low in your ear. You can feel the sweat from his forehead making your shoulder damp as he ruts into you, but you could care less. “What is it—baby? How’s it feel?” 

You moan for him as an answer, but he doesn’t take it. His hips slow down a little and he holds himself up with his hands sinking into the mattress beside your head.  

“Say it,” he coaxes between pants. “Tell me how it feels—to be fucked—right here in your boyfriend’s bed.”

“So good, Tae,” you mewl. 

Your face flushes at the confession, but you want to do it for him. You weren’t one for dirty talk normally. But with Taehyung making the wet mess you feel between your thighs, in this heated moment, you think he could probably get you to say anything. 

“—want you to come,” you say breathlessly. “Wanna see your face—”

“Oh yeah?” he says, hard rocks of his hips accompanying the soft words floating from his lips. His fingers dig into your hips but its a pressure that feels good. “You’re so fucking pretty, god—fucking beautiful body—”

He was always a sweet talker during sex, managing to say the words that made you feel soft and mushy and hot and needy and the same time. You put your hands on either side of his face, pulling his mouth down to yours so that you can sink your teeth into his pretty, pink bottom lip. You pull the flesh into your mouth, sucking on it a little before releasing it with a small pop back against Taehyung’s teeth. 

He grins with a sinful vengeance down at you, his hips starting a faster cadence against your own until the room is filled with nothing but the squelching of your essence and the claps of your thighs against his as he chases his high. 

You squeeze around him, opening your eyes briefly so that you can see his reaction above you: his skin flushed with heat, the muscles of his chest and neck strained with the pursue of his impending release. He looks good like this, the long strands of his hair somewhat sticking to his forehead while others hang down, ticking the tops of your cheeks. The sight of his lip tucked in between his has your core clenching rather harder, and he sucks in a breath at the feeling. 

“Fuck, don’t—” he gasps. “I’m really fucking close.” 

You smooth his hair back, coaxing him now with all the dirtiness of your mouth you can muster.  

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” you whimper, pressing small kisses up his shoulder. “I want you to—want to feel you come all in this pus—”

Taehyung groans loudly as his body stutters, letting your walls milk him for everything his as he finishes with slow, lingering strokes inside of you. After a few more sloppy dips of his hips, e pulls his length out of you, still covered in the condom and softening by the moment. You wince a little at the missing feeling between your legs. He drags his lips across your cheek just as his body goes limp, pressing on top of yours heavily as he struggles to catch his breath afterwards. 

You use to the time to come down from your high as well, enjoying the way Taehyung’s body fits into all the crooks of yours with a comforting, albeit sweaty and sticky, warmth. Your fingertips graze the middle of his back, drawing aimless patterns in the soft, tan skin. 

Taehyung sighs contentedly in your ear, pressing a small kiss there and then a few more in a line that leads back to the corner of your mouth. Down from your Taehyung-induced high, your head feels clearer, your heart sitting a little heavier in your chest as you think about the possible repercussions of what you’ve done.  

Taehyung commands your attention though, pushing his soft lips against yours and coaxing you to make out with him for a minute in your dual, post-coitus bliss. His tongue drags against yours lazily, his hands coming up to push some stray strands of hair off your forehead, fingertips dragging down the side of your face until he has your cheek cradled in his palm.  

He’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts, and your heart beats a little off rhythm as he smiles a sated grin at you, seemingly unaware of your naked bodies still pressed against each other on top of your comforter.  

“You okay?” he asks once more—softer this time, with more implications. His eyes hold a bit of hesitation, almost as if he’s scared of you giving him a real answer instead of your usual one.  

But you are okay, and so you say it, watching his small smile split into an even prettier grin. He kisses the tip of your nose and the tops of both your cheeks before he sighs in satisfaction.  

“Well,” he says, humming deep in his throat. You watch his eyes alight with mischievousness. “This might be the best room in the house now—don’t you think?”

[artificialqueens]

Confessions: Part 3 (Trixya) - Sigyn

A/N: so it’s fully been like two years since I updated this so I imagine everyone’s forgotten it but I’ve started adding to it again so I feel like I might as well keep posting it despite the two year break…

I’ve made some slight edits to the first two parts and published them on AO3 as well so here’s a link to that

full disclosure, the next update is like two weeks away because I have deadlines I need to meet at school (but at least it won’t be two years lmao)

Katya has a confession to make.

There was a time when she was sexually attracted to Trixie Mattel.

Okay. Times, plural.

It wasn’t all the time, though.

Just sometimes.

For example, when Trixie was doing her makeup, ear splitting levels of Dolly Parton blaring in the background, and she’d done everything except her lips and looked demented by anyone’s standards. Katya couldn’t help but be attracted to her then.

Of course, she was also attracted to her when she’d put on the lips and the whole fantasy came together but that was to be expected. Trixie looked other-worldly when her makeup was done. In some ways so done up that she no longer looked human, in others so stripped bare and exposed. More human than Katya ever dared be.

She was also attracted to her when Trixie decided to forgo the coloured contacts she usually wore but that didn’t mean anything, Katya had always been a sucker for brown eyes.

Naturally, she was attracted to her when her face was completely washed clean and she donned a backwards baseball cap with some oversized t-shirt, not an ounce of pink in sight except for the stain around her lips that sometimes stayed for hours after she removed her lipstick. That was a side of Trixie she found particularly attractive, largely because it was how she was most comfortable, and perhaps partly because it was a side of her very few people ever got to see.

Often, she found that spark of attraction when Trixie told a particularly crass joke.

And, fuck, was she attracted to her when the Barbie fantasy was both contrasted and complimented by her tendency to scream her enjoyment, rather than laughing in a manner others might have found more acceptable.

Trixie never did anything by halves and that was perhaps what Katya found most attractive about her.

Pretty much every time Trixie broke the social norms, behaving in a way some would argue did not befit a young woman, Katya found the stirrings of attraction deep in her stomach.

But she wasn’t attracted to her all the time.

Not at all.

For example, she wasn’t attracted to her right now.

Katya is pretty sure she wouldn’t be attracted to anyone who woke her up before eight am on a Saturday.

“I’ve decided what my new year’s resolution is,” Trixie announced cheerfully, without so much as a greeting to give Katya a moment to adjust to the shift from being asleep to being expected to hold a conversation.

“Is it to buy a calendar?” She guessed, voice raspy with sleep, “as it is April and either too late or too soon to be making such resolutions.”

Trixie seemed unconcerned by this as she resolutely stated that “it’s never too late to begin the new year.” Katya decided not to challenge her on that. “And as a wise man once said, new year new me.” She paused as if waiting for Katya to either prompt her further or laugh but Katya didn’t really feel so inclined. She had half a mind to just go back to sleep and let Trixie have this conversation with herself.

Unperturbed by Katya’s lack of a response, Trixie soldiered on. “I’m embarking on a fitness journey,” she declared, as though she expected a deafening round of applause to erupt.

“Okay,” Katya drawled, still not having decided whether she was going to be a part of this conversation, “lets pretend that’s a real thing and that we both know what that means.”

“I’m joining a gym, I’m eating healthy, the whole nine yard, I’m embarking on this journey from today onwards, would you care to join me?”

Katya found herself thinking that if Trixie’s dream as a child had been to become a travelling salesman she was quite certain her sheer enthusiasm alone would have made her a roaring success. However, Katya had always been a hard sell.

“Absolutely not,” she replied, without remorse.

“Okay, well, I’m joining your gym so I wouldn’t be so quick to say no-“

“No,” she firmly interrupted, having already decided that Trixie’s apparent illusion that Katya would go in for any such thing needed to be nipped in the bud.

Trixie shrieked and though the loudness of it made Katya wince, she couldn’t help but smile at the reaction.

“When are you teaching again?” her friend asked instead of giving her the expended sales pitch that Katya was certain she had been gearing up for.

“I don’t know. You can probably find my hours on the gym website, did you have to wake me up for this conversation?”

“Absolutely,” Trixie replied, resolutely. “If you’re allowed to wake me up at 3 am on a weekday to discuss what a terrible place the world would be without laughter then I’m allowed this.”

Katya had no real argument to counteract that point as it really was fair enough. Instead she simply acknowledged Trixie’s good point, well made with a repeat of the thoughts that had come to her in the middle of the night, last week. “God, it would be such a terrible place though.”

“No,” Trixie stopped her, “we’ve had this conversation, now we’re having my conversation.”

Katya made a noncommittal grunt that sounded vaguely affirmative.

“Text me your classes and if I’m not there at least three times a week you have my formal permission to kick my butt.”

Katya snorted and responded, “what if I don’t want to kick your butt?”

“Since when have you ever denied an opportunity to come near my butt? I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of kicking it.”

Another grunt, more concrete in its affirmation this time.

“Okay, go back to sleep, you’re boring me. I’ll be there by noon to make green juices and a salad with you.”

Katya’s face screwed up in disgust at the very thought, “Ew, Tracy, no, you will not. I told you I refuse to be a part of your healthy road trip or whatever you dubbed it.”

“Fitness journey and I can’t hear you, I’m going through a tunnel!”

The line went dead before Katya could respond.

“Fucking bitch,” she muttered to herself, though the smile that always followed a conversation with Trixie was firmly in place.

Doubtful that she’d manage to fall asleep again what with the sunlight already forcing its way through her curtains, Katya seriously considered getting up and making coffee for several long minutes. Her musings only being cut short by her consciousness slowly slipping away as sleep dragged her back under.

When Katya next awoke it was to the simultaneous banging of her door and the ringing of her phone.

She didn’t know what year it was, much less what time but Trixie’s name flashing on her screen, paired with her ringtone, told her that ignoring the ruckus and going back to sleep was not a viable option.

Forcing her limbs into action Katya got up, grabbing her phone and accepting the phone call.

“If you damage my door, you’re buying me a new one,” she simply said in lieu of a proper greeting.

“You’ll have to take me to court over it,” Trixie replied though she did cease her vehement knocking which Katya considered a victory in and of itself.

“See you there,” she said, ending the phone call before opening the door to reveal a version of Trixie she had not yet had the pleasure of meeting.

Straight-from-the-gym Trixie apparently wore a pink velour jumpsuit, no makeup, her hair up in a ponytail, and radiated a tired kind of happiness.

Katya decided this Trixie was definitely one of the Trixies that she was attracted to.

“Move bitch, these are heavy,” Trixie squeezed past her, her gym bag slung over one shoulder, and carrying a grocery bag that looked about ready to burst, “we’re making goats’ cheese salad and scrambled eggs,” she called out behind herself, confidently striding into Katya’s kitchen.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t quite as attracted to post-gym Trixie as she’d believed at first glance.

Katya followed her into the kitchen, regardless.

“We’re making what?” Katya asked incredulously, “lettuce and eggs do not a breakfast make, we’re having toast.”

“It’s lunch,” Trixie stated, not even looking at Katya, “and you can have all the toast you want, babe but you won’t tempt me.” She dumped her grocery bag on the kitchen counter and removed her gym bag. Turning around she held it out, “can you put it in your room?” she asked, though it was clear this was more of a demand than a request.

Katya arched an eyebrow at her, “you can take it yourself.”

“I’m making you food, you’re taking my bag to your room.”

“Wow, you didn’t mention the new you would be a rotted cunt,” Katya laughed, taking Trixie’s bag, regardless.

The taller blonde shrugged with a smile, “the old me was, I don’t see a reason to change that,” turning back around to the counter she added, offhand, “maybe next year.”

It didn’t take them long to prepare the food. Trixie had brought an abundance of groceries intended to spruce up a salad and make it worth while, including grapes, walnuts, goats’ cheese, and honey. No matter how much she tried to persuade Katya (and perhaps herself) that this would make more than an adequate meal, Katya fried up some bacon and made herself two slices of toast to go with it. Trixie made faces at the meat, claiming that the smell caused by “carcass fumes” was infecting her salad and eggs, an argument that seamlessly carried on into their meal.

They were sat there, in the kitchen, Katya enjoying her substantially larger meal and Trixie trying not to feel envious of the white bread Katya was happily munching on.

“Dead pig,” she muttered, not entirely jokingly as Katya lined her bacon strips up on the piece of toast before piling on the scrambled eggs.

“I’d appreciate if you refrained from calling me names,” Katya retorted, lifting the piece of toast to her mouth and succeeding in making a right mess of both her plate and herself. “Besides,” she nodded her head towards Trixie’s plate, “cheese and eggs.”

Trixie gasped in mock offence. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face,” she said, “I can not accept my vegan fate at the same time as I embark on my fitness journey. I must first save my body, then save the planet.”

Katya just sat there smirking, they both knew she didn’t have strong feelings about veganism but Trixie did and so it was a decent card to pull.

“You know, you should try going vegetarian,” Trixie suggested in a way that was neither new nor hopeful. She’d long since given up on the idea that Katya’s moral compass, which was sketchy at the best of times, would somehow win out over the taste of meat. “Since you’re not saving your body, your schedule should be wide open to try and save the world. You know, try something new,” she shrugged.

“Why try new things when you can try nothing?” asked Katya around another mouthful.

Perhaps Trixie would have responded to that had there not been a resounding smack of what sounded like a person’s full body weight being slammed against Katya’s front door, followed by smothered laughter and the jingling of keys.

Trixie, her eyes wide, turned askance to Katya who simply rolled her eyes ever so slightly.

The sound of the door opening and swiftly closing was followed by a repeat of someone’s body hitting against it and laughter, half-swallowed up by kisses.

It wasn’t unheard of for Alaska and Sharon to turn up from some after party or other that had run through the night and well into the morning in a slight state. They usually preferred Sharon’s apartment for that, given that space was her own and not shared with someone else but did, on occasion, come back to Alaska’s place, whether because of misplaced keys, lack of forethought, or the location of the party from which they were headed.

Katya was relatively unfazed by the ruckus currently coming from the hallway but a quick glance at Trixie assured her the feeling was not shared by her companion so she decided to intervene. She knew from experience that Alaska and Sharon had no problem experimenting with locations outside of Alaska’s bedroom and was doubtful the thought of checking whether the apartment was empty would occur to either of them, especially given that their mental state was likely to be altered by chemicals of the less-than-legal variety.

“Are you planning on only giving us the sound bite or are we going to be treated to the whole show?” Katya called out to them, prompting another fit of slightly muffled giggles and the padding of bare feet that made their way closer, relatively unsteadily.

Alaska appeared first in the kitchen doorway, leaning against it slightly. Her makeup was smeared, her clothing askew, and her pupils noticeably dilated. Her long, thin legs were exposed up to mid-thigh and perpetually bruised in a way Alaska had once told her accompanied the rockstar life… or the groupie life. Katya wasn’t quite sure where that stood as Alaska had been performing less and less these days, instead accompanying Sharon to various “industry parties”, although Katya felt that title suggested a lot less drug use than she knew went on at said events.

“How much are you willing to pay for it?” Alaska asked, twisting her body back around to her girlfriend who looked only marginally less dishevelled.

Before Katya had a chance to reply Sharon crowded Alaska up against the doorway, nipping playfully at her jaw. “Not that you’re not worth every cent,” she breathed against her throat, “but I don’t feel inclined to share right now.”

Alaska’s eyelids fluttered as Sharon bit across her neck, prompting a breathy moan that indicated that despite her words Katya and Trixie just might be treated to the full show if they didn’t remove themselves from the situation quite hastily.

Sharon pressed Alaska harder up against the doorway, running her hands down her sides, to her ass, prompting Alaska to wrap her legs around her. The soles of her feet looked as though she might have walked barefoot the entire way home and Katya didn’t doubt that she would have, either because her shoes had been deemed too uncomfortable after wearing them for entirely too many hours or because they had been misplaced; sacrificed to the alter of the party gods as several previous possessions of Alaska’s had been before them.

Katya glanced at Trixie who seemed to be in a slight state of shock and then, purely for her benefit, delicately cleared her throat. “Should we make some popcorn?” she asked pointedly.

Sufficiently reminded of the presence of other people Sharon turned to grin slightly at Katya for the briefest of seconds before her eyes were tugged back to Alaska. “We’ll be in her room,” she almost growled, hoisting Alaska up and carrying her out of the sight of their audience.

“Don’t interrupt us unless there’s a fire,” Alaska called out.

“Maybe not even then,” Sharon threw in for good measure.

“It was nice to meet you,” Trixie called back but was only met with the slamming of Alaska’s bedroom door.

Katya barked out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Okay,” she said, “I imagine we have about 20 seconds until we’re treated to the not-at-all censored soundtrack of those two going at it so I hope you’ve finished eating.”

Trixie threw her a look of amused disbelief before giving her a nod, “okay,” she said with a chuckle, “you know, it’s quite nice outside and I’m simply dying for some sun.” She stood up and started gathering their mostly empty plates before Katya stopped her.

“20 seconds,” she reminded her before a high moan punctured the air. “Maybe not even that,” she amended. “Leave the dishes, we don’t have time.”

Katya grabbed Trixie’s hand, pulling her out of the apartment and down the stairs, onto the street below where Trixie was finally overcome by giggles.

“That was absolutely ridiculous,” she wheezed out, freeing her hand from Katya’s grasp to dab delicately at corners of her eyes with her fingertips in a careful manner designed to avoid smudging her makeup. The fact that she wasn’t wearing any at the moment was immaterial, it had become a habit. “It’s like 12:30 pm, where the fuck were they coming from?”

“I have no idea,” Katya earnestly replied, “some party I presume, Sharon drags her to a lot of those although Alaska never seems unwilling.”

Trixie straightened up, a slightly dazed expression on her face, “oh, that really was Sharon Coady then,” she said, “I wasn’t sure.”

“Do you know her?” Katya asked, slightly perplexed.

“Not personally,” Trixie shrugged, taking Katya’s hand back in her own and heading on down the street. Katya didn’t know if they were headed anywhere in particular and she found she truly didn’t care. “I know some people who work with her, she’s apparently very talented, has a real eye for what will make a trend.”

Katya nodded.

Sharon’s career seemed to be on a trajectory, only going up, and Alaska had on multiple occasions mentioned the talk about her that was apparently circulating the fashion scene.

Trixie went on, “Some of my friends are astounded she hasn’t started her own label yet, say she’s one of the few people they’ve met who stands a real chance of actually breaking into the business on their own.”

When Katya first met Trixie she’d been surprised to find out how much she knew about the inner workings of almost every aspect of industry LA had to offer. She claimed it came from working in makeup and that in order to be good at her job she needed to keep her ear to the ground but Katya suspected it was more than that. Trixie respected people who were good at what they did. It didn’t matter if they were makeup artists, models, fashion designers or musicians. Trixie simply had an earnest respect and admiration for people who put their all into their work.

“Yeah,” Katya replied, “she claims that’s what the parties are about,” she expanded, “she’s pretty sure the label wouldn’t take well to her quitting so she wants to make sure she has her own connections if and when she burns that bridge. Claims she can’t break into the industry if people are too scared of RuPaul’s wrath to actually work with her.”

“That’s pretty smart of her,” Trixie agreed, “Ru can barely just be called a designer anymore, he’s almost a religious leader. I swear, it boarders on a cult. It’s very much a ‘you’re either in or you’re out’ kind of situation. Sharon’s wouldn’t be the first career not allowed to prosper because RuPaul decided she betrayed him.”

Katya shrugged. She wasn’t really all that familiar with the fashion industry, only really privy to what she’d gathered from her relatively limited interaction with Sharon, and what Alaska had let slip. Katya always did her level best to ignore the bitterness that sometimes lurked underneath Alaska’s comments. Although she couldn’t relate to their particular situation, she could empathise. It wasn’t long ago that Sharon had been struggling as hard as Alaska to gain recognition and, anyway, most of the time Alaska managed to radiate pure pride at her partner’s success.

“I’d be lying if I said I believed that was the only reason she attends the parties though,” Katya said, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess they don’t call her Sharon Needles for nothing,” Trixie said, laughing, “oh god, knowing me I’ll actually slip up and call her that to her face one day.”

“I doubt she’d mind,” Katya replied, “she and Alaska used to have this punk band when they were younger where that was legitimately her stage name. That’s actually where the name originated. Although from what I’ve seen she prefers rolled up bills to needles so the truth of it is debatable.”

Trixie shrieked her enjoyment, but Katya wasn’t done.

“In fact, she’s probably doing blow off Alaska’s tits right now,” she proclaimed, lips stretched wide in a smile that only grew wider in response to the grimace on Trixie’s face.

“I didn’t get out of the apartment just to have you describe what I’m missing,” her companion complained, nose all scrunched up in distaste. Katya fought down the urge to tell her just how beautiful it made her look.

“Without dirty thoughts, there are only dirty dishes,” she said instead, prompting an eye roll from her friend.

“You’re such an idiot,” Trixie replied but the fondness of her tone accompanied by the soft smile on her face caused a fluttering in Katya’s stomach, as though she had just been showered with the loveliest of compliments.

She simply smiled back, swinging their joined hands between them, and allowed Trixie to turn the conversation to some other hopeful designer whose name Katya had never heard.

It didn’t matter though.

She made the appropriate noises of interest and laughed when the anecdotes warranted it, and although the topic wasn’t something she had a particular interest in she found that her reactions weren’t feigned.

The truth is, she suspected she could listen to Trixie read aloud from the phone book for hours without getting bored; each name and number as fascinating to her as the last.

[halloweennut]

Pas de Deux

During a Musical Charity Auction, Felicity gets roped into wearing one of the items for charity, then literally roped onto a pirate airship and hauled miles into the air, where she meets the one and only Don Karnage. Some veritable dime-store pirate romance novel shenanigans happen from here out. 

lmao so i didn’t plan on shipping them, but here we are. first part of a three part ship story with Felicity (my oc) and Don Karnage. I just hope I wrote him well. I have no impulse control. @musekicker thank you for the encouragement bb. 

The charity musical revue had been going splendidly for the first hour and a half. A good quarter of the donation goal had been reached, and the higher ranked items hadn’t been presented or seen by most of the elite crowd of benefactors. One of those higher ranked items was a set of jewelry, dated to the 15th century, made of pure gold and precious gems. An early viewing resulted in the request to see them worn by one of the musical performers, just to see how they shone, despite them being more apt for a museum than regular party wear.

Felicity agreed to wear it during her aria, glad that it didn’t look too gaudy on her. The rings fit well, the bracelets were a little snug due to the internal clasping mechanism, and the hairpieces were easily woven into her updo. The necklace sat high and heavy on her like a collar, and it locked behind her neck via pinhole lock. While she wasn’t much of a fan of wearing so much jewelry, especially with how priceless it was, Felicity liked how it complimented her feathers and neck, as well as how the jewels shone when she moved.

Of course, the pricelessness of  the gems around her neck and everything else sitting around the opera house was bound to draw unwanted attention. Soon enough, not even 15 minutes after she belted her last note, Felicity found herself bound in rope, tossed unceremoniously unto to a flying pirate ship. After she had bitten two of the crew, Felicity found her beak tied shut with a handkerchief. She cursed whoever made the jewelry for making the rings the only easy pieces to get off of her - the necklace, bracelets and hair pieces were to slow going to remove, so for the pirates it was far easier to bring all of her along.  Her being tied up also made the process easier for them at least, not to mention the skirt she was in tangled up her legs, until they got to the necklace and the mystery of how to unclasp it.

“Captain, this bauble don’t have a clasp!” one of the pirates said from behind her. “What should I do?”

She struggled and twisted her shoulders and arms as she attempted to get loose while they were distracted, hearing the tap of leather boots storm up behind her.  Felicity hadn’t really gotten a look at the captain during the raid,  but she had hear him, of all things, sing and bark orders, the freshest being to grab her and go.

“Necklaces have clasps, you idiot,” she heard him snap. “Must the great Don Karnage  do everything?”

Felicity felt a gloved hand clap onto her shoulder and push her forward, and she let out a noise of protest. There was a pause, and she felt another hand prod and pull at the necklace.

“What in the skies…,” he sounded confused and she felt a little smug. “Ah! There is a pin keyhole. You! Bring me the key!”

“Beggin’ your pardon, captain, but we never grabbed any kind of key.”

“You never grabbed - we grab everything, you idiots! Now we have no way of getting that off of her,” the captain stomped around her, angrily gesturing at his crew who shied away. “Except…”

Don Karnage spun around to face Felicity, and she finally got a look at him. He stared at her with intense expectation, she stared back with anger. Don Karnage blinked, shifting into something smug and almost charming as he began to lightly and dancingly step towards the swan. Felicity scowled the best she could with her beak tied together and shuffled back, only to run into the legs of some crew members. They grabbed her by her sides, lifting her up so she was standing, but held her as she twisted her shoulders to get out of their strong grips. He strolled up to her, and tilted up her beak with a finger to look her in the eye.

“Maybe, songbird, you can tell Don Karnage where that little key is?” he crooned, and untied her beak.

“I refuse to tell you, you pirate,” she hissed, and tried to lunge at his hand, but was held back, her beak closing with a loud ‘clack.’ He snapped his hand back sharply and snarled, revealing rows of very sharp teeth.

“Then the less than patient Don Karnage will have an extended guest on his ship!” he hissed.

“Why don’t we throw her overboard? Or threaten her with it at least?” A peg legged crew member asked. Don Karnage groaned.

“She’ll obviously call our bluff, because if we lose her, we lose the necklace!” Don Karnage snapped, hooking a finger around the collar to pull it, and Felicity, forward, showing the large diamonds and precious jewels. “This necklace is worth more than this plane. And obviously more than you lot!”

He dropped the jewelry, hitting her hard on the chest. She let out an “oof” of shock at the weight, snapping Don Karnage’s attention back to her as if he had forgotten she was attached to the collar. He smirked, snapping his fingers. The crew members holding her let go, dropping her with a yelp of surprise and a thud as she hit the cold metal floor of the cargo hold, skirt pillowing around her legs. She stared up at him with a scowl as he he stood in front of her.

“A good, handsome, and daring pirate has ways of getting information, songbird,” he said smugly, leaning down to be in her face.

“Maybe the first thing you should learn is my name,” Felicity managed to say before he grabbed her sides, hefting her over his shoulder like a bag of loot. “Hey! Put me down!”

“Your name won’t matter once I have your necklace,” he replied as he began to walk out of the cargo hold and into the ship. Felicity watched as the crew members continued on like this wasn’t happening and the cargo hold disappeared behind a bay door.

“Put me down!” she commanded again, hoping that she didn’t sound scared. This was distressingly becoming a dime-store romance novel and she could barely refuse the role she was playing in it. She couldn’t bite any part of him, her arms were tied and from this position, he had her legs in a vice-like grip.

They entered another room off the large, cavernous hallway with the woosh of a mechanized door. When it closed behind them, Felicity closed her eyes shut tight. Whether it was fear or trying to focus her mind on figuring out some way to escape or fight someone larger than her with a sword, she didn’t know. They didn’t open when she felt him shift her in his arms, holding her bridal style for a moment before she was set down on what felt like a chair. Felicity opened her eyes and looked around. They were in what looked to be the captain’s quarters, based on the grand decor and large space. She was sitting on a chair next to a table with a half empty bottle of liquor on it. Posters of musicals, mostly featuring pirates, and pictures of the captain,  lined the walls. Against the back wall was a large canopy bed covered in dark blue velvet. Across from her, Don Karnage stood at a hutched desk covered in papers and maps, cooly removing his gloves like he hadn’t brought her in.

“Wha-,” she managed to gasp out. “What are you going to do?”

“Simply enough,” he replied, placing the gloves on the desk, replacing them in his hands with a small dagger. “The persuasive Don Karnage will persuade you into telling me where the key is.”

Felicity felt herself freeze at the sight of the knife, going stick straight as he approached. In a flash the

dagger sliced through the air...and through her binds, landing on the floor. She harshly inhaled, not realizing that she hadn’t breathed. He drove the dagger into the wood of the table, and dragged another chair over to fling himself onto with dramatic flair.  

“You really thought I would attempt to kill you? You’re worth more alive right now,” he said, leaning casually in the chair.

“And how do you know I won’t try to escape?” she asked, gently moving her arms to fix her feathers and sooth her sore muscles from the ropes. Don Karnage laughed.

“No one but my crew and I know this ship,” he said, leaning forward on his hands, elbows on the table. “Even if you managed to escape my room, navigate to the cargo hold, do you really think you could take on a crew of twenty pirates? The knowledgeable Don Karnage know swans can be feisty, but for how long?”  

“For as long as I have to be,” she snapped, standing up to her full height, leaning over him in an attempt to assert some dominance. “You shouldn’t have untied me.”

With a swish of her skirts, Felicity hurried towards the door. Before the door could even register her and open up to the hall, she felt a hand wrap around her arm and she found herself spinning on her toes, coming to the hard stop of Don Karnage’s chest. Felicity tried to pull away, hit his chest, but he gripped her wrists and if anything pulled her closer. She gasped as suddenly she found herself horizontal in a sudden dip, heading spinning from the sudden change. Don Karnage stood above her, smug.

“Truth to be told,” he said, “I enjoyed your performance at that little party we crashed.”

“Really?” Felicity replied incredulously. If he sensed her cynicism, he either ignored it or didn’t care, given he picked up on it. From what she had seen so far, the captain was full of himself.

“Oh yes,” Don Karnage replied, leaning back to bring both of them to a standing position and uncomfortably for her at least, changed their arms to dancing positions. “Don Karnage is well versed in the musical arts, knowing a good aria well sung is child’s play to someone as talented.”  

“Captain, if you think flattery -,” Felicity began, only to be cut off.

“Please, Don Karnage.”

“Captain, if you think flattery will make me tell you anything about how to get this necklace off my neck,” she stared hard into his eyes. “I’m afraid you are mistaken.”

He barked out a laugh, making her recoil. “Haha! No, Miss Columbia, the talented Don Karnage has something better!”

“Might just what-,” she stopped. How did he know her last name? “How do you know my name? You said it didn’t matter.”

“Like I said,” he repeated. “I know the musical arts, and just as importantly those who participate in them.”

He leaned close to the side of her head, and Felicity thought she felt fang brush feather. “You are very talented, talented enough to have impressed me, and I have extremely high standards. You being at that show was a treat. And now I have not only priceless jewels, but a priceless little songbird, no?”

He didn’t move for a moment, so she quickly cut in. “So what? Are you going to keep me here, regardless of the necklace? And for what? You are talented enough, surely you can perform for yourself. Mirrors work wonders.”

Don Karnage laughed again, throwing his head back in a row of laughter. “Sweet, foolish songbird. No. Having you here until you tell me how to get these trinket off you will take time. You are awfully stubborn, aren’t you? But I have ways better than flattery to get what I want.”

He swept her off her feet in a ballroom turn, despite her protests and promptly placed her back into a chair. Confused, she watched him pull an arabesque, kicking a small record player into starting. In a few seconds, she recognized the piece. It was the music from the ballroom dance scene in the last production she was in. Felicity and her co-star had worked tirelessly on it for weeks until it was seamless, and they had the bruised receipts to show how much they paid for their success. But it was weeks ago and well executed then, what was the purpose of playing it now?

“And that better way is pointers!”

“Pointers.” Felicity stared at him in disbelief as he nodded, moving to the first position that her partner started in.

“Now, I am not sure if they are for your inadequacies or that of your partner, but they are good for you to take note of for your next rehearsal,” he began, and Felicity felt her eye twitch as he began to dance.

She watched as he continued, pointing out how her partner should be or how the move should be performed correctly, and all the while her jaw tightened and Felicity could not believe what exactly was going on. First he kidnapped her, scared her to death, and now he was nitpicking her dance routine? She felt annoyance, anger, fear, and the overwhelming urge to both escape and prove him wrong. Felicity watched as he danced, moving from position to position with a fake partner.

A fake partner!

If Felicity was anything, she was an actress, she could adapt to roles, and if this mess of a show called for a heroine on a pirate ship, by god she would play the part. Now, at least, she felt she had a little more control. While he was turned away, she stood and made her way to the record player, and lifted up the needle with a finger. Could she have just run while he was distracted? Yes, but the drama and comeuppance wouldn’t have had the pay off.

Don Karnage stumbled to a stop, the next pointer on his tongue dying as he turned to face her. Felicity slowly turned to look at him over her shoulder, and held him for a second in his confusion before turning all the way. She softly smiled, bowing her head demurely to look up at him through her lashes - falsies but he probably couldn’t tell -  and slowly made her way to him.

“You know, Captain,” she said slowly coming to stand right in front of him, “I mean, Don Karnage...I’m not the most visual learner. “

Whether or not he caught on she couldn’t tell, but she watched him smile confidently. “Is that so? How you propose we change that?”

“Perhaps,” she continued, sidling up close and placing one hand in position on his shoulder, the other lacing with his. “Something more personal so I can...learn better. You could use a partner for this.”

Using him for support, she kicked out her leg, hitting the record and starting the song over again.  “Don’t you agree?”

He stared at her in surprise for a moment, before grinning and moving into position, placing his hand on her waist and raising their interlocked hands. He really thought she was falling for his ‘persuasion’ and his technically speaking legitimate but ultimately nitpick pointers as they swept around the room in their pas de deux. He continued with them, and she decided to smile and nod with the occasional “oops! my bad” when she “accidentally” stepped on his foot. But all the while she was trying to figure out how to get the two of them out into the cargo hold.

The music slowed down to a stop and slipped into the next track - a faster paced waltz that Felicity couldn’t place from anywhere but into her escape plan. So instead of stopping, she started to pull him into another dance, and she hoped it was a long one for her plan to work. Felicity fluttered her lashes in a fake plea to continue, and Don Karnage smiled, all too happy to oblige a chance to show off and dance with a pretty songbird that he thought could just keep up with him. He quickly stepped in line with her in a folie a deux, going for more difficult moves than before. Part of Felicity’s mind was thrilled by the improvisation they were doing, another thrilled it was working, and the last part wondering how long she could continue. But the song continued and so did their dance.

“You’re quite good,” he murmured at one point. Her back was pressed to his chest and her arms with aloft to just brush the back of his head, and he held one of her legs at the thigh, the two of them ever so slightly  bending forward, before snapping back up. He spun her back to face him.

“You’re not bad yourself, captain,” Felicity replied, leaning close to his muzzle before spinning away, just barely out of arm's’ reach. “But can you keep up?”  

“Bold of you to assume I couldn’t,” Karnage said stepping closer to grab her waist, leading her into the next few steps. Felicity grinned, almost smug as she slowly but surely lead him across the room and out into the hallway. Then began the next little step in her plan. She would dance a few feet out of reach, he’d catch her in another dance move,  and they repeated it all the way into the cargo hold. The crew watched on as they danced, Felicity playing coy and teasing, provoking him to continue and show off until he finally caught her with a triumphant laugh.

“How’s that for keeping up? It seems like I’ve finally caught you, songbird,” he boasted, pulling her close. Felicity smiled - this was all going to plan! She pressed herself closer, resting her hands on his chest.

“It seems you have. But I’m afraid that this is our last dance,” Felicity said, suddenly spinning away. Don Karnage felt a tug at his waist, and when she stopped, he saw why. Felicity had his sword and now it was pointed directly at his throat. “Now it’s been lovely, but I’ll be taking my jewelry and my leave, if you please.”

Don Karnage glanced between her face and the sword in disbelief before snarling, rows of sharp teeth bared. He stepped forward menacingly, trying to get her scared or to back down, but the sword stayed out at his throat, now the point was pressed into his jacket. He glared at the swan staring at him in triumph and expectation. “You little snake! You tricked me!”

“Aw, I’m no longer songbird?” Felicity asked. “But yes, I did. It was a lovely dance we did, mind you, and I’m honest there, but I’m going to need my jewelry. Or am I going to ruin your jacket, pirate?”

To drive her point home, she pressed the sword point harder. Not enough to tear the fabric or cause pain, but enough to convince that she was willing to go that length. With a growl, Karnage snapped his fingers, and a few crew members scrambled to find the pieces they had taken from her, and shoved them in a bag. Felicity extended her free hand out, and they tossed it over to her.

“Thank you kindly,” she said, slowly backing up to the cargo door switch, over the roar of the plane’s engines, she heard a plane in the distance, and hoped it was Scrooge McDuck’s. “Thank you for the performances, but I wouldn’t count on this show getting out of previews.”

Felicity slammed the hilt of the sword onto the ‘up button’, and the cargo bay opened with a groan and a hiss. The wind whipped at her hair and her skirt as she stared down Don Karnage. In that moment, Felicity knew she looked like the heroine out of a novel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the glint of a bright red plane getting closer and she grinned.  Don saw it as well and let out a shout, one of the crew members throwing him a new sword as he rushed forward, swinging. Quickly, Felicity blocked the blow, stumbling back onto the the ledge of the port. He stepped back and thrust forward, stepping lightly as he pushed her back, grabbing at either her or the bag of jewelry in her other hand.

“You! Overrated! Little! Showgirl!” he snapped, punctuating each word with a swing. She balanced on the ledge, staring him down, the roar of the Sunchaser buffeting her ears.

“At least I am a showgirl! Go back to dinner theatre where you belong!” Felicity  shouted back before jumping onto the nearby nose of the Sunchaser, using the sword blade to catch onto the hull and pull herself up. The plane sped backwards and away from Don Karnage. As Felicity clung to the sword hilt, she blew a mocking kiss goodbye, watching as he shook a fist at her and cursed her name in vengeance. That was going to be fun to deal with.  Until then, she was content to be carefully led through the pilot window from the nose, and into the safety of the ship’s hull as it sped back home to Duckburg.

If the jewelry didn’t catch top dollar now she was going to riot.