#and also my hair is too long and it’s bothering my neck and i can feel it and it’s awful and. and. and.

[imjustexistingtbh]

today has been just awful hasnt it.

[ellecdc]

Part two of feisty slytherin reader where it’s just the boys being like kinda in love with reader and everything you can pick how reader responds

this ended up taking me way longer to complete than I thought it would! it also ended up way longer than usual. here's the lead up to our infamous poly!marauders x feisty!slytherin reader!!! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem slytherin!reader

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: head injury - not graphic or detailed but mentions blood.

“Okay Moony, if you’re going to help us win over Y/N, you should know she does not like dramatic public displays of appreciation.” James said sagely as he walked into their shared dorm room.

Remus spared Sirius a confused look from his seat in the chair, but from the way James was currently rubbing his arm Sirius had a pretty good idea of what just took place.

“Yeah, erm, I don’t think you have to worry about that with me, bubs. Thanks for the heads up though.” Remus added bemusedly.

“Let me guess.” Sirius taunted, rolling over onto his stomach so that he faced James. “The charmed roses following her around the halls wasn’t a hit?”

“No, but she did...” He sulked, pulling his uniform shirt off to expose a small albeit quite red welt on his upper arm.

“Awe, poor Jamie. Come here bubs.” Remus cooed at him, opening his arms to invite the boy into his lap. 

James obliged all too willingly and snuggled up to the werewolf like he was a small toddler and not a giant beefy man-baby. 

“Don’t mollify him when he’s out here botching our grand plans to woo the girl of our dreams.” Sirius said, causing Remus to roll his eyes and James to scoff indignantly.

“Well at least I’m working on it! What are you doing to woo her?” James retaliated.

Sirius offered him a wolfish grin. “Oh, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.”

You had to get out of the castle. You could still feel everyone’s eyes on you, ogling you like you were some kind of freakshow. 

You don’t know what kind of game those Gryffindor’s were trying to play, but you were not about to be the butt of whatever sodding joke this was.

Roses, really? Charmed to follow you around the castle as Potter smirked from the sidelines. Did he have any idea how humiliating that was?

       So, yeah. You walloped him. In the arm. With your fist. Hard. But what else were you supposed to do!? You’d confronted him and demanded that he end the charm and all he said was ‘you look so cute when your nose scrunches up like that’.

He and Black have always been a bother – seemingly having taken some kind of interest in you for whatever reason. Lupin had always been more reasonable; one would think that he’d have evened those two out during their relationship, but apparently that was an impossible task. You supposed it was because he was all but one man.

But lately, even he was starting to stare at you a little too long, smile a little too softly, find too many excuses to be in your vicinity. It was infuriating.

So, you were outside.

It was nice outside. 

Well, it was nice enough outside. 

You packed yourself some snacks in your book bag, two blankets and an extra jumper to go sit by the Black Lake. You figured you should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet out here on your own.

You unfolded one of the blankets to lay onto the ground before sitting on it and then laid the second blanket over your lap. You could hear other students on the grounds in the distance and the soothing sound of the water lapping gently against the shore. 

As luck would have it, a certain dog with long-black hair would set out to disrupt that.

“What are you doing here?” You asked the dog as it approached you calmly. You wondered for a moment if you should be scared before it stopped at the edge of your blanket to sit and tilt its head at you, his tongue falling out of his mouth haphazardly. 

He didn’t look too scary, ignoring his size.

You craned your neck to look around, checking if perhaps he was here with someone, but it appeared that you were, in fact, alone on this side of the lake.

You felt something cold and wet nudge your pinkie, and you turned to see that the dog had laid down beside you with his head between his paws, nose next to your hand.

“If I pet you, are you going to bite me?” You asked him. He answered by nudging your hand again and offering it a little lick.

“You better not have fleas.” You muttered as you scratched behind the dog’s ears. You would have sworn he had furrowed his eyebrows at your comment if dogs could do such a thing. You noticed then that the dog had startling silver-blue eyes. 

“Where are your people?” You asked, glad no one was around to see you conversing with a dog. He answered you by rolling over for belly rubs.

You scoffed out a laugh but acquiesced. “Fine, you can stay. But I came out here for peace and quiet, ‘kay?”

The dog seemed fine with that plan and let you read through two chapters of your book, only interrupting every paragraph or so for more pets. Eventually however, it grew too cold, and you decided to pack up.

Confirming your suspicions, the dog began to follow you towards the castle. You pretended like you hadn’t noticed or perhaps just didn’t care until you were near the greenhouses.

“For future reference, Black,” you said, turning to the dog who seemed to pause mid-step as you considered him. “I really am more of a cat person.” You smirked, turning to walk back to the castle alone.

“Here, let me get that for you.” James said, opening the door for you rather chivalrously in Sirius’ opinion.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Potter, I can open a door.” You muttered angrily, storming past him into the classroom.

James deflated a little as he followed you in, but perked up when Remus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I thought that was very sweet of you, Jamie.” He placated.

James gave him a half smile in response. “Thanks Moons.”

“I mean, what are we supposed to do? What bird doesn’t like dogs!?” Sirius grumbled, opting to ignore James’ whining. 

“Don’t call her a bird, Sirius.” Remus chided.

“Probably didn’t help you’re a big ol’ mangy mutt.” James muttered petulantly.

“Oi!” Sirius called. “That’s not what you say when Padfoot snuggles you to sleep.” 

James had the good graces to turn a little red at that.

Their conversation was interrupted (quite rudely if you asked Sirius) by Professor McGonagall as she began the instructions for today’s Transfiguration lesson: turning buttons into butterflies. 

Sirius stole a concerned glance towards James to see Remus doing the same; they were horrified to see a mischievous look adorning their boyfriend’s face.

“Prongs...” Sirius warned, whilst Remus whispered a “remember what we talked about.”

But they both knew it was too late; there was no stopping him once James set his mind to something. 

Sirius is quite sure it was the fourth butterfly that did you in; you seemed to consider the first a fluke, the second was annoying, the third made you suspicious, but by the fourth you’d had enough.

With little to no warning you turned and lobbed a large hard-covered tome at the group.

“I don’t know which of you tossers are behind this, but it reeks of Potter. So help me gods I will gut you and string you up to the rafters from your intestines if you don’t leave me alone!” You screeched. 

“But how else will you know I’m crazy about you?” James pouted, causing you to groan exasperatedly.

“If you’re looking for some cutesy princess who will swoon at your sodding roses and butterflies, then you’ve got the wrong witch.” You spat.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we have exactly the right witch.”

“I swear to Circe if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll sic Barty on you.” You threatened.

Sirius and James both scoffed whilst Remus smirked. 

“Please dollface, you insult me. I’m not afraid of Junior.” Sirius taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him menacingly before realization dawned on you. “Fine.” You said simply, giving Sirius a distinct uneasy feeling. “Perhaps I’ll tell Regulus.”

Sirius slammed his fist on the table and leaned forward. “You wouldn’t.” He seethed.

You smirked deviously. “Just try me, Black.” You sneered in response. 

Did...did Sirius have a degradation kink?

Sirius was ashamed to admit that he had to take a very cold shower after that.

You had been sitting in the library trying to work on your Potions essay. You had felt fairly safe here seeing as the Gryffindor’s (at least the most problematic ones) had been sanctioned from using the library during quiet study hours on account of their typical foolishness.

Except one.

“Mind if I sit here?” Lupin’s lilting voice sounded from your right side before he sat down without waiting for your response. 

“Why bother asking if you were just going to sit anyways?” You grumbled. 

“Well, it was the polite thing to do.” He said, turning to face you. You held his gaze (his gaze, your glare) until he finally sighed. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

You considered him for a moment. You couldn’t deny he was the least buffoonish out of the so-called Marauders though you’re not sure that amounted to much.

But he was quieter, kinder, softer around the edges. And he had been far more polite to you than his boyfriends.

“Are you going to flirt with me?”

One of Remus’ eyebrows (the one with the scar running through it, you noticed) raised expectantly as he considered you.

“Let me rephrase that.” You barked quickly, realizing your mistake perhaps a touch too late. “You may sit here, but if you flirt with me, I will stab you with my quill.” You punctuated your threat by blotting his hand which rested on the table with ink from the tip of your quill.

Remus smiled at the sight before returning his amber coloured gaze to yours. “Fair enough. I promise to try to restrain myself, but perhaps you ought to hold onto this hand for me just in case I slip up.” And he – the absolute sodding bastard – slid his left hand comfortably into your right.

You’d never seen someone make a move so assertively and smoothly before. There was nothing to say that any of this even affected Remus as he immediately turned his attention to his book. Was it hot in here? Your hand felt sweaty. Your throat felt tight. Your mouth was dry. Why didn’t you think to bring a bottle of water?!

“Erm,” you started, having to pause to clear your throat. “Just how am I supposed to get my work done with your hand in mine, Lupin?”

You had tried to sound threatening, but based off Remus’ smirk, you’d only managed to goad him further.

“You’re left-handed. Figure it out.” 

These boys were going to be the death of you if you didn’t end up killing them first.

“You held her hand!?” James screeched in their dorm room that night whilst Remus smirked to himself. Sirius would make fun of James for his dramatics if he wasn’t just a pissed off about this.

“I’ve been working at this the longest out of either of you, and she lets you hold her hand?” He continued.

“She doesn’t like dogs,” Sirius grumbled, gesturing to himself, “she doesn’t like James. But the werewolf? Really. No offence Moons because I absolutely get the appeal.”

James snapped his fingers as he had a eureka moment. “I’ve got it! Remus; bite me!”

“James!” Remus scolded. 

“It’s not fair.” James muttered as he fell onto his bed in defeat. “I’d be so good to her.”

Any ire from Sirius and Remus drained at that as they both moved to join their boyfriend on his bed.

“We know, bubs.” Remus conceded. 

“We just...have to give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around, yeah? I mean, with Remus’ smooth moves, my undeniable charm, and your muscles? We’re unstoppable.” Sirius added, eliciting a smile from Remus and a gentle chuckle from James, though his usual light was diminished.

“We’ve just got to be patient, Jamie.” Remus concluded, causing James to groan.

“Patience.” He spat spitefully.

“A 'James ADHD Potter' special.” Sirius winked before kissing any further protests away from James’ lips.

“We’ve got Moony on our team now, bubs. We’re unstoppable.” He whispered, truly believing what he was saying.

If anyone could break through your hard candy-coating shell to reach the chocolate inside, it was certainly Remus Lupin.

You’d had the lovely idea of sitting outside on one of the few sunny days that Scotland got to see this time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone else had the same idea too.

A few Hufflepuffs were playing with a charmed muggle football, kicking it back and forth between the two of them and chasing after it when it opted to fuck off on its own. You didn’t understand the objective of the game, nor did you care to.

Remus and Peter Pettigrew sat on a bench not too far off playing a game of Wizarding Chess that, from where you were sitting, looked like Remus was winning.

You got so caught up in watching Lupin’s game with Pettigrew - in the way that the tendons in his wrist and hands flexed as he moved pieces across the board, and the way that his honey blonde curls fell in front of his eyes causing him to have to blow air upwards so he could see the board - that you noticed something flying at you far too late. 

“Look out!” One of the dumb Hufflepuff’s shouted far too late as their charmed football soared into the side of your head, knocking you clean over where your head cracked painfully against a root of the tree you were sitting under.

You scrunched your eyes tight and tried to will your heart to start beating again and your lungs to cooperate, every part of your body seeming to have tensed out of instinct to protect itself.

“L/N! L/N! Come on, dove, open your eyes.” You heard a voice above you.

Why was the voice so worried? How long were your eyes closed? A gentle hand grabbed your chin and wiggled your head back and forth, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Sod...off.” You gritted through your teeth.

The voice chuckled and wiggled your chin once more. “There she is. Open your eyes for me.”

You hated being told what to do but decided to comply anyways.

You probably should have kept your eyes close because the sight made you feel dizzy for a completely different reason.

Hovering above your frame was Remus Lupin; his knees on the ground beside your elbow, one hand gripping your chin and the other gently moving hair away from your face and head.

“Atta girl.” He said with a smile.

“Get away from me.” You grumbled as you moved to sit up. Though Lupin hissed in protest, he helped you sit up nonetheless. 

“Is...is she okay?” a timid voice spoke from somewhere behind Lupin’s shoulder causing his expression to darken considerably.

“You stupid wankers are so dead.” You spat as loudly as you could manage, though in your current state – that wasn’t very loud at all.

Your message was received loud and clear, however, as the two Hufflepuffs took off in fear.

“My sentiments exactly.” Lupin muttered as he turned back to you, jaw still tense.

You snorted indelicately as you brought a hand to your head. “Please, don’t tell me you actually care about me, Lupin.”

You hissed in pain as your hand came in contact with something warm and wet and slightly sticky. You pulled your hand back in front of you to inspect, only for Lupin to grab your hand rather harshly and wipe the blood away with a handkerchief.

“Is it so impossible to believe that we could actually care for you?” He muttered quietly, eyes focused on your hand, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You watched as his curls bounced with each wipe of his hand against yours. You thought of his gentle hands brushing hair away from your wound moments before. You thought of him begging you to open your eyes. You thought of him being the first one at your side when you were hurt.

And you thought about Black finding ways to be with you even when you staunchly refused his company. You thought of him taking time out of his day to tell you how ‘smoking hot’ you looked that day, even though he said it every day before that, too.

And you thought about Potter who always held the door for you, saved you a seat even though you never accepted it, showered you in affection even though it was public and quite embarrassing. And you thought of the way he always had a smile to give you, even when you gave him no reason to smile at all. 

It wasn’t hard to imagine the three of them caring for anyone, quite frankly. Caring seemed to come second nature to those boys.

“No.” You admitted quietly. “It’s not impossible to believe that you could actually care. It’s just impossible to imagine why.”

He stopped rubbing at your hand and met your eye, seemingly contemplating what to say.

“Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He opted for. “Pete, let the boys know where I’ve gone when they’re finished with practice?” Lupin called over his shoulder.

“I can walk myself, Lupin.” You grumbled as he helped you up by your elbow.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled back. “You’re not a delicate flower, we know.”

The two of you more or less muttered back and forth to each other the entire way to the infirmary, Lupin supporting more of your weight than he likely needed too but you didn’t feel the need (nor desire) to complain.

Madam Pomfrey was in the middle of looking after a first year Potions class who accidently set off an explosion of incorrectly brewed Cure for Boils which ultimately left each student (and Professor Slughorn) covered head to toe in painful boils.

“Mr. Lupin, if you could clean the wound for me. And Miss. L/N, drink the pain potion. Do not leave until I’ve had a chance to do a proper examination, okay?” She ordered as you positioned yourself more comfortably on the bed after she determined you weren’t about to die (or currently crying, as most of the first years were). 

You took the pain potion dutifully and placed it back on the table beside your bed before you startled at the sudden cold wet cloth on your head.

“You are not seriously doing this right now, are you?” You spat.

Remus’ eyebrows drew together as his hands continued on in their task. “You heard the matron; I’m supposed to clean it.”

“I can clean it myself, Lupin; I’ll conjure a mirror.” You argued, causing the scarred boy to scoff.

“I do what I’m told L/N, and quite frankly, the matron scares me more than you do.”

“I must be doing something wrong then.” You sighed, thinking you hadn’t said that loud enough to be heard, but a startled laugh escaped Lupin’s lips. 

“Why do you act so volatile?” He asked amusedly.

“It’s not an act.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Well, you call wrong, then, Lupin. I’m an arse and I find everyone exhausting. Deal with it.” You snarked sharply.

Lupin breathed a laugh through his nose. “Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime, then.”

Rotten bastard and his smooth talk...

“WHERE IS SHE!?” a voice echoed through the corridor just outside the entrance to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey needn’t even look up from the boil she was currently draining of puss to know who she was about to scold.

“Mr. Potter, I will have you banned from this infirmary so fast if you raise your voice above so much as a whisper, do not try me. That goes for you too, Mr. Black.” She barked; eyes still focused on the first year’s arm in front of her.

Sure enough, a mop of curly hair, impossibly more wild than usual due to the flight on his broom, poked around the privacy curtains a second before it was joined by a fuming looking Sirius Black.

Potter’s eyes flew to where Remus’ hands were positioned on your head and your stomach lurched at what looked like tears pooling in Potter’s eyes.

“Potter...please, erm, please don’t cry?” You asked awkwardly, leaning away from Remus’ touch as you suddenly became very uncomfortable with this amount of attention.

“She’s alright, Jamie.” Remus sighed, pulling you back over to him gently by the shoulder and continuing his prodding at your wound.

“Who did it?” Sirius spat, arms crossed defensively across his chest and jaw tight as he stared hard at the wound on your head. You were horrified to admit to yourself that he was hot. You’d never really seen it before, how all the girls in your year (and other years) fawned over the long-haired boy.

But he was currently standing in front of you still adorned in his quidditch gear, hair pulled back into a low bun - though he had many fly-aways on account of his recent time in the air - his cheeks still dusted pink from the assertion, and he was currently fuming on your behalf.

Yeah...he was hot. 

“Easy.” Remus warned.

“Answer me!” Sirius spat back.

“Pads. I mean it, leave it.” Remus said with finality.

Your eyes darted nervously between the two boys currently staring each other down, but Potter’s eyes were still steadfast on you.

“Let me, Rem.” He finally said gently – the most gently you’d ever heard from the rambunctious boy as he gently moved Remus aside and took over.

“I’m okay, you know.” You offered, not liking how worked up these boys were currently over you.

“I know.” He agreed. “I just hate to see you hurt.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You pressed. James looked like you just asked him to calculate the distance between the galaxy of Andromeda and our solar system using the measurement of broomsticks.  

“I... I don’t want to see you hurt?”

“You want to see Snape hurt.” You countered, causing James’ face to harden.

“Snape’s a tosser.” He muttered darkly.

“I’m not any nicer than Snape.”

“See, Y/N. You’re so smart and lovely and perfect, but you are way off on that front.” James said through a laugh. “Snape is prejudiced, vindictive, and a racist blood supremist. You’re just combative.” He explained, punctuating the word combative with a gentle boop of your nose. 

You wanted to break his finger.

But that would be combative, and you would rather die than prove Potter right, so you opted to roll your eyes instead. 

“Did they even hang around to see if she fucking survived or did they just take off to avoid detention?” Sirius spat at Remus, not looking any calmer than he did when he arrived.

“They stayed.” You answered tiredly. “They took off afterwards, and not to avoid detention, but to avoid me.”

“And me.” Remus muttered quietly, looking dangerously close to going back out there to find them himself. 

“Did you threaten them?” Sirius asked severely, though you weren’t sure who exactly he had asked.

“Yes.” You and Lupin both answered exasperatedly. 

Sirius looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh. “Fine, but if I run into them, I’m hexing them into oblivion.”

“Not if I get to them first.” You growled.

Sirius’ face finally softened as he sat on the end of your bed and cautiously touched your ankle under the blankets.

“You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

And you aren’t sure what did it. 

You weren’t sure if it was the softness you saw in Sirius that you were sure you could have never even imagined possible from a person, let alone someone related to the infamous Black family. Or if it was the eyebrows of Remus Lupin that were furrowed in concern as he dutifully watched his boyfriend finish plastering a bandage to your head, or if it was the unbelievable softness of James Potter’s touch – in complete contrast to his fast, rough, bouncing personality that you were usually subjected to.

But dammit, you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

You wiped it away quickly and nodded your head in yes.

You braced yourself for the teasing, the cooing, the dramatic displays of affection. But Sirius quickly stood and disappeared behind the curtains, James began pouring you a glass of water, and Remus reached into his bag for something.

Remus returned to you first, breaking off a square of chocolate for you. “It’ll help.”

You were too embarrassed to argue and took it, popping it into your mouth dutifully. 

“Here.” Sirius said as he appeared back at your bedside, handing you a vial. 

“What is it?” You asked, your voice taut with emotion.

Sirius’ eyes softened again as he offered you a sad smile. “Calming draught. You can’t have any more pain potion, but this might make you feel better.”

“And if not, maybe you can convince Moony to share more of his chocolate.” James commented with a soft smile.

You grimaced at the taste of the potion and chased it with the water James had poured for you.

“Thank you.” You admitted quietly, shame colouring your tone as you looked to your lap.

“None of that.” Remus said as he handed you another piece of chocolate.

You took it skeptically. “Why do they call you Moony?”

No one said anything for a moment, but you could tell that neither James nor Sirius were moving a muscle as they watched Remus who in turn watched you.

“Because of my lycanthropy.” He said plainly.

You looked at the various scars before you started to laugh. Sirius’ face drained of all colour while James visibly tensed.

“Of course you are. Remus Lupin. Named after a man raised by wolves and the lupus, or wolf constellation. Oh gods, it was predestined, clearly.”

“Are...are you laughing at me right now?” Remus asked incredulously.

“It’s a little funny...no?” You asked back.

He looked as if he were torn between laughing and crying. “I pour my heart out to you – my deepest darkest secret, and you laugh at me?” He asked again, some amusement colouring his features.

“I told you, I’m an arse.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Does it bother you?” Sirius asked cautiously from the end of your bed, face appearing impassive for all intents and purposes. 

“I don’t see why it should, it’s none of my business.”

“It could be.” Remus input.

“You don’t want me. I’m no good, Lupin.” You stressed, looking back down at your hands.

“Neither am I.” Sirius agreed.

“Me neither.” Remus added.

“I’m n-” James started.

“So what if the only one of us worthy of love and affection here is James?” Sirius said, cutting James off. “It’s not going to stop me from cherishing what I can get - deserved or not.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow, cringing at the effect the fast movement had on you and the pain that the movement elicited in your neck.

“Okay, what about this.” James conciliated. “You don’t have to agree to be with us, just give us a chance? The time of day? One Hogsmeade trip to let us fawn over you.”

You looked up at his deep brown eyes that felt so warm you wanted to make a home in them. Sirius, in all his bravado, looked pained as he waited for an answer, and Remus smiled encouragingly at you.

“Fine!” You acquiesced with a groan. “One Hogsmeade trip.”

Much to your chagrin, though not really at all, it ended up being way more than just one Hogsmeade trip.

Thank you to @unstablereader who gave us the library handholding prompt 🫶

[uzurakis]

can u do how jjk boys (include megumi PLEASE) would react to you getting all pretty and dolled up to go out (and u just look soooooooooo good)

TOO PRETTY TO BE TRUE!

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. geto suguru. nanami kento. itadori yuuji.

n. your wish is my command nonnie, and ya don’t need to say megs cause i’ll ALWAYS include him in every shit that i write (he comes in one package okay) and.. I WENT OVERBOARD WRITING THIS HELPLEP i usually limit to 4 charas every post but yours made my creative space going and I HAD TO DO 5.. so thank you for that. i looooveee the idea mwah mwah i hope the writing makes justice for your cute hc <3

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you were running late; a girl's usual problem before a date. your hands fumbled with the clasp of your earrings, and shit, you cursed softly under your breath. outside, you knew your boyfriend was waiting patiently, or so you hoped. the idea of keeping him waiting made you anxious, but you wanted everything to be perfect.

just as you finished adjusting your hair, you heard the front door creak open. fushiguro’s soft footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you felt a twinge of panic. he never liked to intrude, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. "hey, what’s taking so long?" you heard him mutter.

you turned around just as he reached the doorway to your room. his eyes widened, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. fushiguro's usual stoic expression melted into one of pure surprise. his cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink, and his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"is everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden flutter in your chest.

megumi blinked, finally finding his voice. "a-ah, yeah, everything’s fine," his eyes remained locked on the ground while he stammered. how in the hell did this place get so hot? he thought to himself as he fiddled with his shirt collar.

"you look… um, really pretty."

"no, i mean, don't get me wrong though! you're al-"

you blushed at his earnestness, but you also smiled. "you too, gumi."

the guy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly but managed a small smile in return. "sorry i kinda barged in,” gently, he reached his hand to you and said, “next time, take all the time you need. i’ll wait.”

GOJO SATORU. "well, well, look at you," someone called out, sauntering over with an exaggerated attitude. "you really went all out for our little date, huh?"

you couldn't help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "aand you didn't even bother to dress up," you teased back, gesturing to his usual attire. “so lame for the gojo satoru, boo-hoo.”

"why would i need to dress up when i have the most gorgeous person in the world right here?" the guy stepped closer, taking your hand and spinning you around playfully. "you look soo good, i kind of want to take you home right now. can’t have everyone else stealing glances at my date."

a giggle managed to escape your lips, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "you're ridiculous, toru," shaking your head at him.

then he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, one that could captivate a soul. "but seriously, you look amazing. i'm the luckiest guy here."

you swatted at his arm playfully, but your heart swelled from his words. "alright, mr. smooth talker, where are we going?"

gojo straightened up, still holding your hand. "anywhere you want, as long as i get to show you off. but maybe we’ll head home a bit early, just in case," and of course, he didn’t forget to wink.

ITADORI YUUJI. a knock on your door sent a jolt of excitement through you. you had taken extra time to get ready for your date with itadori tonight in the hopes of surprising him. he was standing there with an enormous smile on his face as you opened the door.

“bless me!” his pink eyes widened with admiration. “you look beautiful as always, baby.”

your cheeks heated beneath his surprising compliment. "nah, baby, that’s too much."

his enthusiasm contagious, he practically bounced on his toes. “i’m serious! you’re soo pretty that i might die from your prettiness—is that an actual word—but look at me, i'm serious!”

as you stepped outside, itadori kept showering you with compliments. "that outfit is perfect on you. and your hair! you’re always cute, but.. you really shine tonight."

“you’re too sweet, yuu,”

"i mean it! you deserve to hear it every day baby!”

NANAMI KENTO. you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you heard a firm knock at the door. taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it to find nanami standing there, his usual composed demeanor softened by a warm smile.

his eyes swept over you, taking in every detail. "you look beautiful, sweetheart." he said simply, sincere and direct. the compliment made your heart skip a beat.

"thank you, kento," goddamn, a gentleman is always a gentleman.

he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "i appreciate the effort you put into this. it means a lot to me." his smile widened just a fraction, but the warmth in his eyes spoke more than his words could.

you smiled back, touched by his straightforwardness. "it’s because i’m excited to spend time with you."

nanami nodded, offering his hand. "shall we go?"

you sensed serenity and joy as soon as you held his hand. "i’m glad you liked it," you said softly as you both made your way down the street.

GETO SUGURU. “fucking hell, you look so pretty,” he swore under his breath, emerald orbs wide as he took in your appearance. “too pretty to be true.”

“hmm, you think so, suguru?” a little teasing might not hurt, right? his usually calm and composed expression shifting to one of pure astonishment the moment he saw you. and there it is again, his usual up-to-no-good grin.

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and cocky with that smile of his. “oh, you’re mine,” he declared, voice firm yet filled with a protective tenderness. “definitely mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his sudden possessiveness, yet you couldn't help but feel a rush of delight at his words. “i’m yours,” you confirmed softly, tippy toeing to peck his cheeks.

he pulled your waist gently into his hook, grip both protective and warm. “i just… i don’t want anyone else looking at you like this,” the words were murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “you’re too beautiful.”

you leaned into him, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace. “i only want you to look at me like this, suguru.”

he smiled, a rare and genuine expression that lit up his face. “good. because i’m not letting you go.” he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “let’s go, princess."

@uzurakis

[beloveds-embrace]

DUKEDOM!141 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (/nf please and thank you :])

Original post

Enjoy!! :D

Something all of them like to do is doll you up, and it becomes almost a private little routine between you and them.

John, as your husband (can you tell I love referring to him like this?), steadily takes control of deciding what you wear for the day even long before your request. It’s something that just… happens. He comes into your bedroom early in the mornings, and your maids scatter away to leave you both be with little giggles, excited at the prospect of you two finally getting ‘close’.

John doesn’t care for them. He greets you with a soft good morning (a few weeks later, he’d greet you the same but would gently caress your face with the back of his hand, the touch so gentle despite his roughened skin. It makes you into a blushing mess, though you tell yourself it’s just so that the peeking maids won’t suspect anything) and then goes straight to your closet, sweeping through the rows and rows of delicate, soft dresses with a discerning eye to select what attire you’ll wear for the day.

Of course, he does ask you what you feel like wearing, how you feel today in general, where you plan on going or meeting- everything to ensure the dress he’ll choose for you would be perfect. John doesn’t wait to see you in the dress, though.

He knows he’ll be seeing you all adorned and dressed up later, when you come down to dine with him. He can compliment you and pat himself on the back, then.

If he makes sure to match his cufflinks with the colors you are wearing, it will simply make whoever notice it think you two are such a lovely couple. And he still hopes that your maids will accidentally not tighten or cover up your hemline just so he can fix it himself for you.

John aside, Kyle takes care of your hair and jewelry. He makes you sit on the vanity, still alone and with none of your maids around, and then he begins the tender ritual of brushing your hair (if it’s not too curly for daily brushings). His hands, warm and careful and gentle, would then take care of oiling each strand. No oils or butters have been spared in the efforts of tending to you, and Kyle himself often turns the routine into a simple, but so effective, head massage session for you.

(Later, Kyle wonders what he needs to say and do to take over the job of the maids who help you bathe. You are always complimenting how good his hands feel on your hair, and he can show you how much better he is at using them for your body.)

Johnny eventually begins doing your makeup, on certain occasions. Once the truth comes out, the two of you are closer, and on one night, he tells you about his big family, his sisters and how they’d make him and his brothers help them get ready for events and parties.

It’s a simple question born out of your curiosity- what’s the makeup like where you were born, Johnny?- that has him in your bedroom often now, the other chefs taking care of the kitchen while his hands, clean and gentle, dab creams and whatnot on your face so delicately- like you are one of the cupacakes he decorates for your tea time.

He wants to kiss you so badly. You look so pretty like this, eyes closed and expression peaceful, patient and so trustful of his ministrations. He really, really wants to kiss you and see if the lipstick he’d applied on your pretty lips tastes as sweet as it smells.

Simon, though, is the one who slowly begins adding more and more to your dresses. John already supplies you with so much, but Simon is the one largely in charge of the silk and fabric importation and he knows well what styles will be popular next season, what styles will looks better on you and which colors suit you best. It’s not just dresses, but also matching fabrics and ribbons to go in your hair for when Kyle or your maids style, and for your pretty neck during more casual tea parties.

Not occasionally seeing you in the dresses he sends doesn’t bother him; you will be spoiling the others with the sight, and he can listen to them thank him in several ways afterwards and rest with the thought of you all dolled up, happy and thriving with them.

[hedgehog-moss]

Here are before/after pics of my two shorn llamas ✂ ✂ Pampoldine was the one with the most wool, which makes sense seeing as her father looks like a long-necked Komondor dog. I didn't shear Pampelune, she's my least woolly llama so I decided to leave her alone until next year, to her great satisfaction.

Shearing Poldine made me discover new aspects of her, like the fact that her tail is very impressive! It's not as striking when the rest of her is covered in equally thick hair but look at it now:

I had tried to prepare Poldine in previous weeks by stroking her with a stick in increasingly annoying ways while going bzzzzzz (we had reached a point where her only reaction to being bothered in this way was glaring at me). I should have bzzz'ed louder, though. Or maybe bothered her with an electric toothbrush instead, or sat on the couch with her to watch youtube shearing tutorials together with the volume turned up—because when the moment came she was very alarmed by what an ugly noise the shears made. Every time I turned the thing off to reapply oil to the clippers then turned it on again she was like aaaahhh what's that noise all over again.

I bought cordless shears so I could shear her in the pasture, surrounded by the emotional support of her loving family, but as soon as they saw Poldine tied to a post and heard that ominous robotic wasp sound, Pampe & Pampy went okay Poldine it was nice knowing you! And left. Abandoning their daughter / granddaughter to her grim fate.

(the very bad quality pics in this post are screenshots from bad quality videos) (oh and the grey fur you see at the bottom right is Pandolf's, my mum brushed him a few days ago. I promise I didn't shear Pandolf—although he would have probably volunteered, to share Poldine's suffering.)

Considering it was her first ever shearing, I think she was very brave and stoic! There was no spitting, no dramatic hyperventilating, no attempts to lie down on the ground and play dead as llamas sometimes do. (But wait for Part II.) She just danced around a lot to escape the shears, and made plaintive HMM sounds in a vain attempt to awaken some deeply-buried maternal instinct in Pampérigouste. Who never came.

The only (tiny) incident was when Poldine stepped towards me as I was shearing (surprising; she kept moving away before) so I took advantage of this spark of goodwill to lean over her back to shear on the other side, and then she abruptly stepped away and almost made me fall !

This second pic is the most malevolent Poldine has ever looked. She looks just like her mother!

But other than that, it went really well. The process was long and tiring (the shears get heavy after a while) and I kept discovering hidden unshorn spots when I thought I was almost done (look at these Niagara Falls of wool in the pic below!), but Poldine was very sweet. I didn't insist too much on her legs or under her belly as those were her least favourite parts, and I also left a little goatee at the top of her neck so she can stroke it pensively and look wise, and I gave her muesli afterwards and she gave me a kiss, no hard feelings. I couldn't have asked for a better llama partner for my first shearing.

My second shearing, however.

(Continued in Part II...)

[maxlarens]

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

[aikastales]

burnout (jk)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: jeon jungkook asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend in order to get back at his ex-girlfriend. however, you soon realize his true intentions.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: bball player!jungkook x student journalist fem!reader

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌: yandere, dark romance, slow burn

total word count: 10k

PART ONE

Why was Jeon Jungkook at the Communications building? 

He had a red and white leather jacket on top of a white shirt, jeans, and his black combat boots. His long hair was a mess, which you guessed was due to his helmet, and when he saw you walking down the steps of the building, he perked up, smiled, and waved at you. 

At first, you weren’t even sure if it was you he was waving at, so you were a bit stunned, and looked over your shoulder. But then, you heard your name called by him. You and Jungkook were not friends. Sure, you exchanged friendly nods at each other whenever your paths would cross, but that was the end of it. In fact, the only reason why you even exchanged those friendly nods was because of Taehyung—your cousin who also happened to be his best friend since preschool. If it wasn’t for him, you and Jungkook would just pass by each other without so much as a glance. 

And so, it was only natural that you were confused and surprised when you saw him leaning against his motorcycle in front of your college’s building, apparently waiting for you. 

“Y/N, hey,” Jungkook greeted with a smile on his handsome face once he was near you. 

Still confused, you returned the smile, adjusting the strap of your backpack hanging over your shoulder. “Hi, Jungkook. Is everything okay?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, everything is—everything’s fine,” he said. Then, he cleared his throat. “Do you have time like right now? My treat.” He asked, his doe eyes piercing into yours. 

You could not believe what you just heard. “What?” Was all you could reply. 

Jungkook chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I know. It’s a shock, right? Believe me, I am too, but I just really need to talk to you about something. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t so important.” 

“Is it about Taehyung? Is he okay? Did he get into trouble?” You asked, alert. It was the only logical answer why Jungkook waited for you and why he wanted to talk to you. Taehyung was the only person connecting the both of you. 

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no, it’s not about Taehyung, but he’s fine. He’s in his class right now. Look,” he sighed deeply, licking his lower lip with the tip of his tongue before staring at you once more. “Yiseul, I just really need to talk to you. In private.”

You debated whether to go with him or not. This was Jeon Jungkook. Despite his tattoos, broad shoulders, piercings, and big bike—he was harmless. He was your cousin’s best friend, and even though you two weren’t friends, he looked like he needed one at the moment. Besides, you wouldn’t deny that a part of you wasn’t curious as to why he needed to talk to you. That and the fact that because you had been in love with him since you met him when you were thirteen, how could you say no to something that you had only imagined in your wildest dreams? 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go,” you agreed, heart beating rapidly. “Where are we going?” 

Jungkook’s smile widened when you agreed. “There’s a basement cafe twenty minutes from here. It’s called Seven.” 

The both of you began making your way towards his motorcycle. “Just how private is this conversation going to be?” you asked supposedly only for yourself, but accidentally, you said it out loud. 

“I guess you already have an idea on how private it needs to be considering the location,” he chuckled. “But don’t worry—I promise you’ll get home in one piece.” 

Jungkook handed you his extra helmet, and you were thankful that you didn’t wear a dress that day. After placing your backpack in front of your chest, you wore the helmet. “Can you give me a hint on what it’s about?” 

You couldn’t help it. You were curious. 

“I remember you always being curious, Y/N. Glad you haven’t changed at all,” Jungkook said, mounting his motorcycle. “In twenty minutes, you’ll know. If you ride now, you’ll know in fifteen minutes.” 

You thought he looked so attractive as he smiled and waited for you on his motorcycle. His smile was so infectious that you couldn’t help but to return it. “Alright, fine,” you say. Then, you mounted his motorcycle, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. 

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, placing his key into the ignition, briefly glancing at you. 

“Yeah, ready,” you replied. He started the engine and you held onto your backpack for dear life. You had seen Jungkook drive his motorcycle before and the only way you could describe it was fast. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

Jungkook drove off. 

As promised, fifteen minutes later, you arrived at Seven. It was indeed a basement cafe, secluded from the busy city streets and tucked in between fruit stands and ready-to-wear clothes inside an alley. You were the first to get off his motorcycle, taking your helmet off. Shaking your head, you took in your surroundings while Jungkook took his motorcycle garments off. 

The alley was alive with mostly elderly people buying fruits and high schoolers buying the RTWs. The tangerines stood out due to their bright color against the setting sun. You wondered when and how Jungkook came to know the place, if he frequented it, why he chose this place over all other cafes. 

“Y/N? Let’s go inside?” Jungkook asked, gesturing to you to enter the cafe first. 

You nodded, entering Seven. As a basement cafe, the first thing you noticed were the windows placed near the ceiling. A permanent sepia hue covered the entire establishment due to its yellow orange lights. The walls were painted gray, tables and chairs white. There were only a few tables and chairs, and Jungkook led the way to the one at the very back. 

He pulled the chair out of you which you thanked him for, and you sat down. Jungkook followed afterwards, placing the helmets on the table between the both of you. 

“What do you want?” He asked, pulling his chair closer to the table. 

“Honestly, I’m more curious on why you want to talk to me than have any drinks here,” you told him, placing your backpack on the floor beside your chair. 

Jungkook chuckled, leaning his back against his chair. “Alright. Should I just say it?” 

You nodded. 

“I was hoping that you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend to make Haemin jealous,” Jungkook said so casually that you were completely and utterly stunned. Did you just hear him correctly? Upon seeing your reaction, he continued, “She broke up with me a month ago, and to be honest, I saw it coming already. We were getting into a lot of meaningless fights, always finding faults in one another, and just overall, being toxic to each other. So, when she broke up with me, I did not put up a fight, and just let her be,” Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head lightly. “Then, I learned that she was seeing Han Riyeo, that fucking bastard from Yongsan, behind my back for three months, and I want to get back at her.” 

His explanation did not help you grasp what he just said previously. You were still stunned, but you managed to ask, “Why me?” 

“For reasons I still don’t know, Haemin was always jealous of you,” he confessed.

Now, that was a surprise. “What? You and I barely had any interaction.” 

“I know, but I suspect it’s because you’re there whenever I hang out with Taehyung,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, then ran his fingers through his hair. “So? Will you help me, Y/N?” 

“This is pretty childish, don’t you think?” you told him, eyebrows furrowed. 

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll pay you. I know you need the money. Taehyung mentioned you’re saving for the deposit on this apartment you want to rent.” 

You stared at him, trying to find any trace of mischief in his eyes and body language but found none. Jungkook was serious. A part of you knew that the logical answer would be to decline his offer. It was childish, as you had told him. It was a nuisance and it would do nothing but bring problems and complications in your life. Your life was complicated enough, and you didn’t need to add Jeon Jungkook’s fake girlfriend to your list of complications. 

But this was Jeon Jungkook. The person you had been in love with since you were thirteen. The person you supported, cheered on, and loved unconditionally from afar because it was all that you could do. You would be lying if you said that you did not imagine yourself being his girlfriend—going to every game, wearing his jersey, riding his motorcycle, going on dates, taking lots of photos and videos of him, hugging, and even kissing him—because you did, countless times. You would also be lying if you didn’t think that you could love him better than Haemin ever did. 

They said love makes you do crazy things. You didn’t think that applied to you. You loved Jeon Jungkook, and you didn’t think that that love would fade anytime soon. So, even though you knew that this was pretend and paid, you said, “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

After your orders arrived, the both of you continued your conversation. 

“So, how will this work?” you asked, sipping your iced chocolate drink. 

Jungkook put up a finger, chewing the cheeseburger he ordered, and afterwards, he replied, “We act like a couple. Go on dates, post them on social media, and all that.” 

You were never someone who did things half-assed. If you were going to get paid to fake date someone, you might as well go all out. Also, perhaps, a part of you just wanted to make the most out of being Jeon Jungkook’s fake girlfriend. 

“I don’t think that would be enough to make Haemin jealous. If you really want that, we should do the things you either only did with her or promised to do with her,” you pointed out.

Jungkook nodded. “I see. You got a point.” 

“So, what are those things? The things you did for her and the things you promised to do with her?” 

He inhaled deeply, scratching the side of his nose as he thought. “Well, I pick her up everyday. Take her out on picnic dates, study with her, and I go to her recitals.” 

You nodded. “Okay. Then, you should pick me up everyday, take me out on picnic dates, study with me, and well, I don’t really do any recitals.” 

“Alright. I’ll do that,” Jungkook grinned. “As for the things I promised to do with her—the first thing that popped in my mind was that I promised I’ll take her to my brother’s wedding.” 

“We shouldn’t involve our families in this. Me being Taehyung’s cousin is complicated enough,” you remarked. 

“Okay. How about this? We made plans to go out of town during winter break. Do you wanna do that?” 

“Where?” 

“My sister-in-law runs a small resort in Busan. It’s by the beach,” 

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Okay. That could work.”

“For my part, you have to go to my games. That’s pretty much all you have to do, and of course, the dates.” 

“That’s already a given,” you told him. “I’m assigned to cover your games this season.” 

“Right. You are the News editor of the Times. I’m honored,” Jungkook placed a hand on his chest, bowing his head at you. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I have a question.” 

“Go for it.” 

“What will happen when Haemin gets jealous? Will we “break up” and the two of you will get back together?” you asked, cautiously, but also curiously. 

“I have no plans of getting back together with her,” Jungkook answered. “But when she finally gets jealous and tells me about it, then revenge is served. I guess then we’ll break up. But don’t worry, I’ll pay you handsomely every time so you could move into that apartment of yours. It’s the least I could do after you agreed to do this with me.” 

It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. After all, this was only paid and pretend, but it did. 

“Alright,” you said. “We should shake hands on it.” 

You extended your hand toward him and Jungkook sealed the deal with his firm handshake. “Starting today, you’re my girl, Y/N.” 

You would be the first to admit that looking after Kim Taehyung was something you did out of debt of gratitude toward his parents. After your father passed away when you were only eleven years old, your mother couldn’t afford to send you to school, so his parents financed your education since then and until now that you were in college. You lived with Taehyung at the condominium they bought for him near the university and since you were on scholarship through your membership at the official student publication of Jamsil University, The Jamsil Times, they only paid for your miscellaneous fees every semester. 

Because of these, you felt like Taehyung was your responsibility. You had to take care of him, look after him, tutor him, make sure he did all his school work, attend his classes, and be there every time he asked you to. It felt like when it came to him and his parents, you couldn’t say no because if you did, you could easily lose your housing and education.

It didn’t help that Taehyung seemed to attract trouble wherever he was. He even gained a nickname for it in high school which followed him in college, “Trouble Taehyung.” You couldn’t remember the times you apologized on his behalf, woke up in the middle of the night from a call from one of his so-called friends asking if you could pick him up as he was drunk and bruised, and ensured none of his troubles reached his parents. 

Tonight was no different. 

You woke up from the sound of your phone vibrating against your desk. You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep, studying for your upcoming midterms exam, and when you woke up, you could feel the soreness of your neck and lower back. With one eye open, your vision adjusted to the bright light coming from your phone, and saw Park Jimin’s name flashing on your screen. Immediately, you knew why he was calling you. There could only be one reason: Kim Taehyung. 

“Hello?” your voice was hoarse, groggy from your slumber. 

“Y/N? I’m sorry I woke you up, didn’t I? It’s—,” 

“Taehyung, I know. What happened this time?” you sighed deeply, rubbing your face with your free hand. “Where are you guys?” 

“He got into an argument with this guy, and well, it led to a fight. He’s bruised, bleeding, but he refuses to go to a hospital, but—,” 

“Hey! Is that Y/N? I told you not to call her, Park Jimin!” you could hear Taehyung’s voice in the background which made you sigh once more. Moments later, it was Taehyung who was on the call with you. “Y/N, sorry. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Jimin’s just a worry wart.” 

“Taehyung,” you were tired and it was evident in your tone. “Go to the hospital if you’re bleeding. It might get infected.” 

“I can’t,” he replied. “Mom is going to find out. It’s a small world, you know that,” his tone was low, cautious, as though he did not want anyone else hearing him. “I’m fine. I’ll put on some ointment and band-aid and I’m good.” 

You wished you didn’t give a shit about him. But you did. Whether it was out of debt of gratitude or not, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t help him. Perhaps, you had gotten so used to it that it had become a part of you already, like a hobby, like a memory. 

“Where are you, Taehyung?” 

“Y/N, seriously, I’m—,” 

“Taehyung, just tell me where you are,” your patience was wearing thin and Taehyung knew that. 

“We’re at Jungkook’s apartment,” he muttered. 

Even the mention of his name was enough for the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. Even by just hearing his name, your irritation seemed to slowly fade away. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in a while. I’m gonna use your car, okay?” 

“Okay. Y/N, I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologized and you could hear his sincerity. 

“Don’t be,” you told him as you stood up from your chair. “See you. I’ll hang up now.” 

Just how deep does blood run? 

You were at Jungkook’s apartment minutes later, thanks to no traffic and him only living fifteen minutes from Taehyung’s condominium. When you rang the bell to his unit, you already expected that he would be the one to answer the door. You just didn’t expect that he would be wearing gray sweatpants and a white loose muscle tee showing off his toned tattooed arm. Seeing him in that light, you couldn’t help but feel more attracted to him. Jungkook was truly a sight to see. 

“Hey,” he greeted you with a smile. “Come inside.” 

“Thanks,” you told him, entering his apartment. It was simple, neat, and smelled of vanilla. You took off your shoes by the doorway, placing a hand on the wall beside you. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

“Kitchen,” he replied behind you. “Y/N,” his hot breath fanned over your exposed neck, making you shiver. “I’ll linger around you, alright? That way, they could get a hint that something’s going on with us. Is that okay?” he whispered. 

His low tone was simply mesmerizing. “Okay,” you breathed out. Thank god you had your hand on that wall otherwise you would have literally fallen. 

“Okay,” he chuckled, and led the way to the kitchen. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung exclaimed when he saw you. He was sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen island while Jimin looked through the refrigerator. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and made your way toward him, placing the plastic bag you hand in your hand on the counter beside you. Taehyung jumped off the stool he was sitting on, instantly giving you a squeezing hug. He was always an affectionate boy growing up. You weren’t so you found it uncomfortable at first. But the more Taehyung did it, you got used to it. 

“Let me see your bruise,” you guided him back to the stool, and began taking out the first aid you bought along the way. The bruise wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. You were expecting that he would have a black eye, a deep cut that would need stitches, but it was manageable by you. Jimin was overreacting, you concluded. “What happened? How did you get this?” 

As you began to clean the cut on Taehyung’s cheek, Jimin sat down across from your cousin while Jungkook made his way near you. 

“One minute I was dancing next to some girl, the next, her boyfriend landed a punch on my face. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend—she told me she was single,” Taehyung explained. 

“Didn’t know my ass,” Jimin scoffed. “Everyone knows Heejin is with Taemin. Everyone also knows that Taemin’s a crazy jealous bastard. You were just looking for trouble, as always.” 

“I was not,” your cousin retorted, throwing the medical tape you bought at his friend. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Stop it, you two,” you hissed, pressing the cotton ball a bit harder against Taehyung’s bruise. He winced. “Is that true?” you asked him. 

Taehyung didn’t answer. You sighed. 

“You knew it was wrong, and yet, you did it anyway knowing it’ll just get you in trouble,” you muttered. “Why did you do it?” 

Taehyung sighed deeply. “Because Taemin’s a piece of shit.” 

“You’re also a piece of shit,” Jimin snorted. “Both of you are the biggest pieces of shit at Jamsil.” 

“Do you wanna get punched?” 

“Let’s go right now,” 

“Hey, stop it. You’re so fucking loud,” Jungkook reprimands the two bickering men. “You already woke me up from my sleep by going here. Don’t wake up the entire fucking building.” 

Moments later, you finished tending to Taehyung’s cut. “All done. Come on, let’s go home.” 

Taehyun didn’t protest. You began to clean up your mess, placing everything back into the plastic bag. Silence filled Jungkook’s kitchen. The three of you weren’t close so there were no conversations where all of you could participate. 

“Let’s go,” you bowed your head at Jimin as a farewell which he returned. Then, your eye caught Jungkook’s gaze. You weren’t sure what to do. Fortunately, Jungkook was quick-witted. 

“I’ll walk you guys out,” he said coolly, pushing himself off of the sink he was leaning against. 

“No need. Just go back to sleep. Thanks for letting us in,” Taehyung shook his head, patting his best friend’s shoulder as he passed by him. 

“I insist,” Jungkook responded. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Jimin asked Jungkook as he made his way out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah sure,” 

You followed Jungkook and Taehyung out of the former’s apartment. As you and your cousin slipped on your shoes, Jungkook waited outside his apartment. 

“Are you mad at me?” Taehyung asked, meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

“I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. “But you have to stop involving and getting yourself into trouble, Tae. Sooner or later, you’ll end up getting really hurt.” 

“I will, I promise,” he smiled at you and you nodded, exiting the apartment. 

The three of you walked down the hallway; the two boys walking on your sides. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was consciously doing it, but it was making your heart pound. Whenever your fingers brushed against his, there was an electric shock that flew through your body. And as you reached the end of the hallway and in front of the elevator, and when the doors opened, Jungkook placed his hand at your lower back, gesturing you to enter the lift first. 

You looked at him, and there was a knowing smile plastered on his face that made you blush. “After you,” he said. 

You were fucking lovestruck. 

Championships cast a spell in your school. Jamsil University’s premier sport was basketball and with an all-star lineup this year—it was not even up for discussion that your university would be one of the teams playing out to become this year’s champions.

To say the least, sports were not your thing. While you understood the basics, it wasn’t something you were interested in. Your father had enrolled you in a tennis class once but after witnessing how, simply out, awful you are at the sports, he dropped the ‘I want my daughter to be athletic’ narrative he was going for. That being said, you rarely attended any of the games Jamsil athletes participated in. But seeing as you were assigned to cover the basketball games this season, you had no other choice. Besides, your “boyfriend” was playing. 

That’s how you found yourself at the gym of Jamsil, stressed as you took pictures and typed down the game on your phone. Frustrated, you sat on the bench behind you as the bell rang, signaling the end of the first half. As you read the draft on your notepad, you shook your head at the numerous times you used the word ‘tackle’—in your defense, it was all that you could see during the game. It was a particularly brutal game which made you wonder, was the game something more personal for the players? You only heard rumors, after all.

With a sigh, you made a mental note to fix the notes once you’re home. Standing up, you placed the phone inside your jeans’ back pocket and readied the Times’ camera to capture the ‘Half-time huddle’ that Bang Chan, the Sports Editor, had specifically asked you to take. As you made your way towards the basketball team, you took some shots of the audience as well as the Jamsil’s Cheerleading Team performing in the middle of the court. The blaring music and loud cheers from both schools as the cheerleaders performed filled the entire gymnasium, unconsciously making you smile. It was not everyday that you saw some sort of unity at your uni.

You focused your camera on the huddled team of Jamsil but dissatisfied, you tried another angle. Bang Chan’s words play in your mind: “The half-time huddle is one of the most important shots during these games, Y/N. The play they’re setting up will either make them or break them. Make sure you capture it.”

Then, the idea hit you. You hurriedly made your way on the other side of the team, hearing Coach Song’s booming voice telling his players the game even with all the screaming and cheers. You moved the towels and water bottles on the bench aside, then you stepped on it and placed the camera above the huddled team. Smiling, you knew you found the perfect angle. Making sure that the camera was focused, you inhaled deeply and as you were about to click the shutter button—a face turned to face the lens and a gasp escaped your lips, shocked and you felt yourself losing balance. Bracing for impact, you clutched the camera tightly against your chest and closed your eyes with one thing in mind: If this breaks, I am so screwed.

It felt like eternity as you waited for the impact. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of round brown eyes, staring at you in concern, eyebrows furrowed. Your breath hitched in your throat as realization hit you. Around your waist, you felt strong arms supporting you; hot breath fanned your face and you felt something liquid dripping on your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay?” When he spoke, you immediately snapped back to reality and you wriggled yourself out of his grip—flustered and ground-swallow-me-up embarrassed. Your cheeks were burning as you collected yourself. “Y/N?”

It was as if the entire gymnasium had their focus on you and Jungkook. 

“Jeon, what the fuck, get back here,” Coach Song hissed.

Fuck me, you thought as you cleared your throat. “Thanks,” you whispered to him. 

Jungkook smiled—the boyishly charming smile that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. Then, he did something that made you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Wish me luck, babe,” Jungkook said before wrapping his tattooed arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek. “The game’s on, Y/N. No turning back now.” 

You wished this was real. His kiss was real. But even if it wasn’t, indeed, there was no turning back now. The game had begun. 

PART TWO

As predicted and expected, Jamsil won the championship. But instead of the student body celebrating the fourth championship in a row, apparently, the majority could only talk about you and Jungkook—specifically the kiss he gave you on the cheek. You had expected this, of course. After all, Jeon Jungkook was Jamsil University’s golden boy. He was popular, smart, and overall, an exemplary student who not only excelled in his sports, but in his academics as well. Moreover, he was also the president of the photography club. 

What you didn’t expect was Taehyung lashing out at you. You expected him to be confused, baffled, in disbelief, but lashing out at you? You were confused, to say the least. Taehyung had never done it before. 

After finishing covering the basketball game, you hurriedly made your way back to the Publication Office. Once there, you took off the camera around your neck, breathing heavily. With both your hands on your table, you hung your head low, squeezing your eyes shut, and letting yourself calm down. It was during this moment that the door at the office swung open and your cousin stepped in. 

You looked at him over your shoulder and for the first time, you saw fury in his eyes. 

“You’re dating Jungkook?” He asked. “Tell me the truth.” 

With your lips pressed tightly, you nodded. Taehyung scoffed, tilting his head to the side, and shaking it in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? You and Jungkook?” He pressed, taking a step towards you. “When did it start? How did it start? Why are you dating him?” 

“I don’t really need to explain myself to you, Taehyung,” you told him. “Especially who I’m dating.” 

“Yes, you do. You need to explain that to me,” he retorted. 

“Why? Why do I need to explain it to you?” 

“Because you’re dating my fucking best friend and you’re my cousin!” He exclaimed, catching you off guard as you flinched. When he saw this, Taehyung’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I just—I don’t get it.” 

“What don’t you get?” you asked, turning to completely face him. “Why someone like me is with someone like him?” 

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean,” Taehyung sighed deeply. “I just feel like—like the two most important people in my life betrayed me.” 

You exhaled deeply. In a way, you could understand him. You could understand where he was coming from. But before you could respond, Jungkook appeared by the doorway of the office. 

“Don’t get mad at her, Tae, it’s my fault for not telling you first,” Jungkook said. He was still in his jersey, covered in sweat, and one hand holding a bottle of red Gatorade. There was a towel hanging around his neck. He walked towards you, and when he stood beside you, he held your hand. “I’m sorry if you feel like we betrayed you. We just wanted to find the right time to tell you.” 

“Right time,” Taehyung scoffed once more. “It didn’t look like it when you kissed her.” 

Jungkook squeezed your hand. It sent a jolt throughout your body. “What was I supposed to do? My girlfriend was there,” Jungkook’s response only riled Taehyung more. Upon seeing this, the basketball player said, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. But there’s nothing you could do or say that could make us break up, Tae. I’m sorry but you’re just gonna have to deal with it.” 

“Can you fucking leave? I need to talk to Y/N privately,” Taehyung hissed, rolling his eyes. 

This time, you cut Jungkook before he could reply. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’ll see you after.” You looked at your fake boyfriend, smiling at him. 

Jungkook looked like he didn’t want to leave so you squeezed his hand. He clicked his tongue, sighing. “I’ll change and meet you outside the building.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. 

You nodded and once again, he pressed his lips against your cheek, making you blush but now, out of embarrassment because your cousin was literally in front of you. Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back. “Leave, Jeon Jungkook!” He exclaimed, pulling him off of you. 

Jungkook chuckled before making his way out of the office. 

Once he was out of earshot, Taehyung stepped closer towards you. “Y/N, you’re right—who you date is not something I should mind or dictate. But you’re my cousin and I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt. Jungkook—he’s my best friend in the world and has been since we were little. I know him. So, the two of you together—I just can’t accept it.” 

You didn’t know why you were feeling angry as the seconds passed. “We’re not asking for your blessing, Taehyung.” 

“Y/N, you don’t understand. Jungkook may be charming and all that goody two shoes shit in front of everyone, but he’s trouble. You’re only setting yourself up for a lifetime of heartbreak,” your cousin shook his head. “Please. Date whoever you want; not just Jungkook.” 

“I made up my mind, Tae,” you said, shaking your head. “I want to be with him and you can’t do anything about it. I’m gonna go home. I’m tired and exhausted. I know you’ll be going to the afterparty so please don’t get yourself into trouble. Take care, Tae.” 

“Y/N,” he called out but you didn’t respond anymore. You just packed up your things. “Y/N, please.” 

“See you at home, Tae,” you gave him a small smile before leaving the office. 

Why was he so adamant that you don’t date Jeon Jungkook? This question popped in your head as you were making your way out of the Communications building. But you erased it in your mind—Taehyung was just shocked, probably weirded out too that his best friend and cousin were dating. 

Why is he trouble? Another question propped in your mind. 

You sighed deeply. All these questions would be answered when you meet with Jungkook as you made a mental note to ask him. For now, you just wanted to rest. 

The buzzing sound of your phone vibrating against your desk woke you up from your slumber. With a groan, you sat up, stretching your arms wide, cracking your neck, and letting out a relieved sigh. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but the last thing you remembered was fixing your planner. When you looked at the caller ID, Jungkook’s name flashed on the screen. For a moment, you were confused why he was calling you, and then it hit you. 

I’ll change and meet you outside the building. 

You quickly answered the call. “Jungkook, hey.” 

“Y/N, are you okay? I waited for you outside the Comm building, but Taehyung said you went home. I’ve been trying to reach you,” Jungkook sounded concerned, in contrast to the sound of cheering and music in the background. He must have been at the afterparty already, you concluded. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. I was just tired so I went home. Are you at the afterparty?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “The guys dragged me to it, but it’s not really fun. Or maybe I’m just not in the mood. I’m glad you’re okay though. I was worried.” 

Your heart fluttered yet again. 

“I’m okay. Have fun at the afterparty,” you said, rubbing your eye with your knuckle. 

“Y/N, I was hoping you could come tonight, here, at the afterparty, and start our agreement.” 

Just like that, you were reminded of reality. 

“Oh,” you replied, hoping you didn’t sound disappointed. “Um, I don’t know where that is.” 

It was common knowledge that invitations for after parties at Jamsil for championships were only through word of mouth. Not everyone was invited. The only reason you knew of the location of the last three after parties were because of, again, your cousin Taehyung. 

“It’s okay, I’ll come pick you up.” 

“I don’t know what I should wear. I don’t go to a lot of parties,” you said, playing with the loose thread on the hem of the shirt you were wearing. It was a habit of yours whenever you were nervous—you needed to play with something whether it was your necklace, earrings, rings, sleeves, etcetera. 

“It doesn’t matter. You look good in everything, Y/N. I’m serious,” Jungkook responded. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay? Don’t worry too much about what to wear. Just wear what’s comfortable.” 

“Okay. Drive safely, Jungkook.” 

When the phone call ended, you were reminded of what tonight would be, and gone were the worries about what you should wear. Tonight was going to be the night you were going to officially begin helping Jungkook take his revenge on Haemin. You felt like throwing up. 

You were hit by the reality, once again, of what this agreement was about. Jungkook wasn’t being sweet to you because he wanted to but because he needed to. He wasn’t inviting you to the afterparty because he wanted to but because he needed to. He was only talking to you because he was paying you. It was time for you to take things at face value. With that in mind, you began to change. 

True to his word, Jungkook arrived fifteen minutes later. It was a whiplash when you saw him at the door, waiting for you instead of your cousin. Wearing a white Calvin Klein shirt tucked under his washed jeans, black combat boots, and his curly hair parted in the middle, he was nothing short of beauty even in the simplicity of his attire. In one hand, he was clutching a denim jacket. 

“Hey,” he greeted as soon as you opened the door. “You look great, Y/N.” 

You suppressed the urge to smile and just nodded. Stepping outside of Taehyung’s condominium unit, you avoided his gaze. “Let’s go.” 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, clutching the strap of your messenger bag. “Everything’s fine. Let’s just go. Where’s the afterparty anyway?” 

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s hand found its way gently around your wrist, stopping you on your tracks. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, Jungkook. I just really wanna get over this,” you said with a sigh. 

“I don’t believe you,” he pointed out, still holding onto your wrist. “We don’t have to go to the afterparty if you don’t want to.” 

“No, let’s go. Otherwise, how will you make Haemin jealous?” you stated, plastering a smile on your face even though you were anything but happy. “The sooner she gets jealous, the sooner she will want to be with you again, and the sooner I’ll get my deposit, and move out from here. The sooner everyone wins.” 

There was an indescribable expression on Jungkook’s face. Although his grip on your wrist remained gentle, you could feel the tension brewing between the both of you. 

“You’re right,” he muttered after a while. “Let’s get this over with.” 

As expected, the afterparty was at a club. You hadn’t been to one but it was exactly as you expected a club to be. Packed with dancing college students, drinks everywhere, smoke in the air, suffocating you the moment you entered the establishment, blinding red, blue, green lights, and booming EDM and Top 40 hits songs blasting on the speakers. Jungkook led the way, holding your hand tightly, and you held his just as tight. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you guessed that it was where Haemin would be. After all, she was the reason why you were here. 

So, it was a surprise when you passed by her and her friends, and toward the staircase. 

“Jungkook! Where are we going?!” you yelled over the loud music. . 

Jungkook didn’t respond, but you knew that he heard you because he pulled you closer to him. And you let him lead you because it was him. You’d let him lead you anywhere if it meant being this close to him. Because no matter what you tell yourself—that this was all fake and pretend and paid—a part of you would always, always believe that he, in some way, reciprocated your feelings sincerely. 

Jungkook passed by the people greeting him along the way until, finally, you reached the empty rooftop. Overlooking the city and its skylines, it was simply breathtaking. There were only broken benches, bottles of beers and discarded cigarette buds on the rooftop along with cracked pots of withered flowers. Here, Jungkook let go of your hand, reached for something from his denim jacket’s pocket—a pack of cigarette and lighter—and offered it to you. 

“I don’t smoke,” you simply stated. It was news to you that he smoked. You knew athletes were forbidden due to health reasons, but you weren’t also naive that you didn’t think some did. 

He nodded, picked one from the box, placed it in between his lips, lit it up, and began to smoke. You took a deep breath, and made your way toward the edge of the rooftop. Moments later, Jungkook was beside you. 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said, the smell of cigarette strong, making you nauseous. But you didn’t tell him that. 

You thought hard. Jungkook knew nothing about you besides being Taehyung’s cousin. It shouldn’t be that hard but it was, for some reason. And so, you said, “There’s really not much that you should know.” 

To which he replied, “Oh, come on, there must be something,” He nudged your side slightly, letting out a chuckle as he took a long drag. “Don’t think too hard. Just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.” 

And so, you did. Before you knew it, you said, “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.” 

“Seriously?” Jungkook asked, but it wasn’t in the disgusted, you’re-in-your-twenties-and-yet-you-haven’t-kissed-somebody kind of way. It was more of a genuine shock. Like it was the hardest thing in the world to believe in.  

You chuckled, nodding. “I don’t know. I just feel weird about it.” 

“But were there any instances where you came close to kissing somebody?” he pressed, flicking his cigarette. 

“Of course, but when it came to it, I just couldn’t. It just didn’t feel…” you trailed off, unsure of what the right word was. 

“Right?” Jungkook suggested and you nodded. “I see.” 

“How about you?” you asked. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

“I want to be somebody’s first kiss, and that somebody happens to be you.” 

He was the only one who could do it—cause your heart to do somersaults inside you while also making it beat so fast that you were afraid he would hear it. It was the way he stared at you at that moment, eyes flickering from your eyes which reflected the cityscape below you and the smoke from his cigarette to your parted lips, unsure of what to say from his revelation. 

“Do you think it’d feel right if I kiss you, Y/N?” 

And like always, your mind and heart screamed: this was Jungkook. Who else would you want to be your first kiss? Since you were thirteen, you had been in love with him. You only imagined this in your head, in your wildest dreams. 

And so, you nodded, afraid that if you spoke, no words would leave. 

Jungkook nodded too, and he crushed his cigarette on top of the edge of the rooftop. He stepped towards you, cupped your face, and for a moment, the world stood still. Closing your eyes, you waited for his lips to crash onto yours. 

And when it finally did, it was nothing that you had ever imagined. 

No sparks. 

No fireworks. 

It was simple, mundane, ordinary—it was a kiss. 

You held onto Jungkook’s wrists as he deepened the kiss, and yet, there were still none of the romantic aspects that you thought would happen during your first kiss. Even when Jungkook moved his hands from your face and around your waist, nothing. It tasted so bitter due to the mix of nicotine and beer that he had. 

But you didn’t mind. You were kissing Jeon Jungkook, your fake boyfriend, at a party, where all his peers were. And for that, your first kiss was still memorable. 

Oh, how Jeon Jungkook twisted your world. 

PART THREE

You had no recollection whatsoever of what happened last night; much less how you got back to your shared condominium unit with Taehyung. But if you were to guess, your cousin probably brought you home as you vaguely remembered him being at the afterparty—much to his chagrin that you came with his best friend. Other moments were like missing puzzle pieces. You only remembered flashes, and you groaned when you felt the throbbing in your temple became stronger. 

Usually, you could hold your liquor better than this. In fact, this was the first time, in a long while, that you could remember having a hangover. Your mother was your drinking buddy—started drinking with you when you were a junior in high school, and although she shouldn’t have done that, you didn’t mind. Your mother was a great mother. Your mother was your best friend. Your mother was a great parent. Yes, she had her shortcomings, but who didn’t? Certainly not you. You remembered the first time she asked you to try Soju, and subconsciously, it brought a smile to your face, and a low chuckle to escape your lips. You made a mental note to text her later.  

As you left your bed, there was a knock on your bedroom door. Knowing it was your cousin, you told him to come in while you fixed your bed, and looked for your phone in the process. 

“Your phone’s in your bag,” Taehyung muttered as he stepped inside your room, and leaned against the wall of the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “I brought you home too. Jungkook wanted to, but he rode a motorcycle, and you were wasted. It wasn’t safe.” 

You nodded in understanding. You figured out that much. Like what Taehyung said, your phone was indeed inside your bag. Quickly, you unlocked it, and checked your notifications. Some were just annoying spam emails, app notifications, and automated messages from your SIM provider, but there was one message that made your heart beat quickly due to panic that you didn’t even notice Jungkook’s message. 

“Y/N, I need to talk to you,” Taehyung said. 

“We will talk, but not right now, I’m late for my tutoring session, Tae,” you hurriedly told him as you texted your tutee that you would be late, but that you would come since it was his midterms next week. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I still don’t approve of you and Jungkook dating.” 

You should have expected this. In the years you spent with Taehyung, you should have known that he wasn’t the type of person who could accept “no” as an answer, and not getting what he wanted when and if he wanted it. You thought it only applied to everything else in his life; apparently, it also applied to your dating life. 

“Taehyung, haven’t we gotten over this? Who I date is not yours to dictate,” you shook your head, sighing deeply as you gathered everything you needed for your quick shower. You were definitely not going to attend your tutoring session dressed from last night, and smelling like beer and nicotine. 

“Jungkook’s a piece of shit as a boyfriend, Y/N. He’s crazy possessive and he gets so fucking jealous. His charming persona is just that—a persona. I don’t want you to get hurt by him, Y/N, please.” 

The desperation in his voice was evidently obvious. When you looked at him, you were unsure of what to say. How could he say that to his own best friend? 

“If he’s like that—,” 

“He is like that,” 

“Then why are you still friends with him?” you asked, pointedly. When Taehyung couldn’t give you an answer, you nodded. “Right. I thought so. I’m going now, Tae. This conversation is over.” 

When you arrived at Jamsil’s library, you were forty five minutes late to your session with Yang Jungwon, a freshman from your program, Journalism with a major in Investigative Reporting. You found him in your usual spot, writing away on his yellow pad while nodding his head along the music he was listening to. Inhaling deeply, you made your way toward him. When you were finally near him, you tapped on his shoulder, causing him to jump a little, but when he saw you—his deep dimpled smile appeared on his face. 

Yang Jungwon was like the little brother you never had but wished you had. You felt bad for thinking that way because you had Taehyung, but as stated, looking after him felt more like a responsibility you had no other choice but to take upon. With Jungwon, even though you were paid to help him with his studies, it never felt like a responsibility to you. You enjoyed spending time with him, helping him out, and sometimes, if the conversation steered into the direction, you enjoyed your deep and meaningful conversations with him. 

You smiled back at him, and took the seat beside him, sitting on it. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Jungwon. You can tell your mom that she doesn’t need to pay me for this session.” 

He shook his head. “No, noona. It’s okay. I didn’t mind the waiting. I got to use it to answer your mock tests.” 

“Really? Let me see. What did you answer first?” you asked, taking your messenger bag off of your shoulder, placing it on the table. 

“The Contemp—,” Jungwon began to say, but then he stopped, which caused you to tear your gaze away from the mock test in your hands, and to your tutee. You followed his gaze, and to your surprise, you saw Jungkook sitting across from you and Jungwon with a gentle smile on his face. He had his lip ring on—it was the first thing you noticed about him that day. 

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. Why did it feel like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to do? Why did you suddenly feel anxious? 

Taehyung’s words rang in your ears: He’s crazy possessive. His charming persona is just that—a persona. 

Was all of it true? Was that the reason why he was here? Because you were with another guy? 

“I guess you didn’t read my message, babe,” he chuckled. “I told you not to buy lunch anymore because I cooked some for you. Here, you can share it with your friend…” he trailed off, politely smiling at Jungwon. 

“H-Hello, I’m Yang Jungwon,” Jungwon stammered, starstruck that Jamsil’s golden boy was talking to him. 

“Hello, Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you. You can just call me hyung,” Jungkook turned to you. “I’ll get going now, okay?” He pushed the lunch box towards you. “Eat. There’s hangover soup in there too.” 

You gave him a look to which he grinned at. “Ah, don’t worry, Jungwon. She can tutor you even though she’s dr—,” 

“Okay, thank you, Jeon Jungkook,” you interrupted him, making his grin wider. You shook your head at him, but you couldn’t hide the blush coating your cheeks from his sweet gesture. Then, you wondered, as Jungkook took his leave, did he do the same thing to Haemin? 

“I didn’t know you and Jeon Jungkook hyung are dating,” Jungwon brought you out of your trance, gaze finally now upon him rather than the absent figure of Jungkook. 

“Yeah, it just happened,” you said to him. “But come on, let’s focus on your mock tests.” 

Yet despite saying that, you were the one who couldn’t focus because the only thing in your mind was: how did Jungkook know you were at the library? 

Taehyung’s words plagued your mind the entire day. Even while you were working, all you could think about was his words about his best friend. How could he say those things about Jungkook? Someone he’d been best friends with since they were little? Why was he so adamant about you not dating him? Taehyung usually kept a distance from your personal life, not even asking about your mother because he knew of the complicated relationship your family had with his family. So, why was he all over your case now that you were “dating” Jungkook? You couldn’t understand. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Although you confirmed with the library interaction that Jungkook wasn’t the possessive type, seeing as he just walked away after giving you the lunch box, and even let Jungwon call him hyung, there was still that nagging thought in your mind: what if Taehyung’s word held weight? What if they were true? 

You thought about it: if they were true, even when you were only fake dating, would he still be as possessive as Taehyung said he was? What happened for your cousin to even tell you something like that?  

Your thoughts were put on a halt when your manager called for your name. You worked as a part-time waitress at a restaurant called Rado. You used to be a full-time employee, but since you were in your last year of uni, you asked if you could still be employed on a part-time basis, and fortunately, your manager, Han Somin, agreed. 

“Yes, Ms. Han?” you asked as you entered her small office inside the employees’ locker room. 

“Y/N, hi, come inside, I just have something to tell you,” she said, taking her eyeglasses off, and kindly smiling at you. You nodded and did as told. “It’s nothing serious,” she continued, which alleviated the nerves sinking in your bones. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be part of this party we’re catering to on Saturday. It’s a listening party for an artist named J-Hope; he released a new album. Maybe you’ve heard of him.” 

You shook your head. “No, Ms. Han. But I’d love to be part of the staff. Where would it be held?” 

“It’ll be held at his label’s function room. I’ll send you the details, alright?” You nodded, then she dismissed you, and went back to work. 

Money had always been a sensitive topic for you. Growing up, you knew that you didn’t have a lot but you were comfortable due to both of your parents’ wages. Your father was a simple office man while your mother had her own small flower shop. They were able to provide for your basic needs and wants but when your father passed away—your mother’s earnings at the flower shop weren’t sustainable. Hence, at an early age, you learned how to look for jobs, and learned the value of money and earning it. Hence, the reason why, besides loving Jungkook all your life, you simply could not half-ass fake dating him because it was innate in you that when you do a job, you give it your hundred percent. 

Part of you wished you didn’t have to worry about your finances. That, like other students at Jamsil, you could have fun and enjoy college life without worrying if you would still have a roof over your head eve though you failed an exam or if you would still be able to eat the next day if you buy a food late at night because you were so hungry that you couldn’t sleep. 

Having money meant having freedom to do all the things that you wanted to do—and you weren’t free. Not yet, anyway, but moving to your own place was a start. That’s why no matter what people say, you would see fake dating Jeon Jungkook through because whether you liked it or not—he was the key to your freedom. 

Saturday rolled around quickly. Adorned in your Rado’s uniform—a simple white linen long sleeve polo shirt, black slacks, black high heels, and your hair pulled back to show your face—you were already at the label’s function room preparing for the listening party of J-Hope. His music had been playing since you got there and you felt yourself being immersed and vibing to it that you made a mental note to check his other songs out afterwards. 

You were in charge of the food and drinks. Ms. Han was also present to supervise and with you was your co-worker, Kang Seulgi, and Kim Hanbin. It was an intimate type of party; hence, the small group of staff and catering. 

“I wonder who we’ll see here,” Seulgi told you as she placed the food fingers on the table while you poured drinks into the glasses. 

“I heard it’s just indie artists that J-Hope invited. It’s the target audience for his album, you see,” Hanbin piped in, fixing his necktie. 

“Whoever it is, I’m sure—,” 

“Kim Y/N, it’s nice to see you here,” 

You only heard that voice a couple of times but you wouldn’t mistake it for another. It was ingrained in your mind so deeply. It was the voice of the person you hoped was you for a long time—who got to touch, kiss, hug, care, and love Jeon Jungkook for four years. It was the voice of the person who was Jeon Jungkook’s first love, and most likely still loved. It was the voice of the person that was never going to be you in his life. It was the voice of: 

“Lee Haemin.” 

PART FOUR (a sneak peek)

“Lee Haemin.” 

In one word, she was beautiful. Dressed in a small black dress with thin straps and a pair of black heels, her silky black hair pulled back, showing off her idol-like face, Lee Haemin was just a sight to behold. Smiling at you, she took a step forward. 

“Is it okay if we talk?” she asked. 

As though you were hypnotized, you nodded wordlessly. A part of you already knew what the talk would be, or at least that’s what you thought. Nodding back, Haemin smiled at Seulgi and Hanbin before leading you out of the function room and somewhere more private. She opened a door leading to what seemed like the conference room, and gestured that you enter first so you did. She followed in suit, and you took a short time to look at your surroundings. 

It was all white with an oval table in the middle and black swivel chairs surrounding it. Adjacent to you were the ceiling to floor windows, showcasing the city landscape. Connected at the top was a projector and on the left side was a projector screen. You wondered how Haemin got access to such room, and as though reading your mind, she said: 

“My family owns a stock, if you’re wondering why I got access to this room. We can pretty much use any room in the company.”

Nodding your head, you turned to face her. “I see. That’s great. I didn’t know that.” 

“Not many people do,” she answered. “But that isn’t really why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I know,” you replied. “You wanna talk about Jeon Jungkook.” 

Haemin smiled. “I heard you’re dating him.” 

“From who? Taehyung?” You knew they were friends. Not exactly close, but they were acquainted due to Jungkook. 

She shook her head. “From Jungkook." Stunned, your mouth parted ways a little. Haemin smiled. "Surprising, I know, but it truly was him who told me that he was with you." 

"Why would he say that to you?" 

"Because he loved me first." 

And it was the truth. The truth hurts but it was the truth nevertheless. You weren't the first person he ever loved, ever had a deep and humane connection with. Everything about your relationship was a lie, a cover up. Theirs was true and real. Jungkook loved Haemin; not you.

Forcing a smile upon your face, you answered, “He loves me now. I don’t see the point of having this conversation, to be honest.”

“No, he doesn’t love you, Y/N. He wants you. Those two things are different,” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Hence, Haemin continued, “Loving someone lights up your world. Wanting someone, now that’s a different thing. To want something is to own it.” 

“And your point? Jungkook wants to own me?” Even your words sent shivers down your spine. You loved Jungkook since you could remember. But did you want him to own you? 

“Yes,” she replied. “Jungkook’s the type of person who gets and gets and gets and never likes to not have what he wants, what he needs. I’m telling you all these because prior to him dating you,” she smiled when she said ‘dating’ as though she knew it was only fake. “He lost me. Now he’s trying to get you to get me back, to own me again. But I don’t want that anymore. I don’t love him anymore. Don’t trap yourself. Get out as early as you can.” 

You didn’t know what to say. So, you did the only thing you could do: walk away. But then Haemin called your name, and you stopped on your tracks, looking at her over your shoulder. “Don’t let love blind you, Y/N. I know you’ve loved him for years, but he’s only going to break you—mind, body, soul.” 

“Thank you for the advice, Haemin,” you told her. “But I didn’t need it. Please respect my relationship with Jungkook. Thank you and enjoy the night away.”

author’s note: hey guys. again, so sorry for deactivating all of a sudden. i know this isn’t much but i hope having a sneak peek into chapter four brought you a bit of joy and excitement. feel free to send me asks regarding burnout and other things. see you in price of freedom next. i’ll be posting it again on tumblr for easy viewing but it’ll also be on hold for the time being. thank you and much love, aika. 

[dumpywrites]

Cat-astrophe - Min Yoongi / Suga

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. 

Genre/tags: Fluff-ish, strangers to ???, minor mention of anxiety.

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: cus we're all soft for long haired Yoongi, right? hehe

It had been officially a month since you had moved to a new apartment place. You loved the new place honestly. It was cozy and the neighborhood looked nice. There were many convenience store nearby and the street was always still busy until late at night, making you feel a little bit of secure when coming home late.

While the place was nice it had one tiny downside. It was rather on the far side from your workplace. It took you an hour of bus ride just to get home from the office, so some days could be more tiring than others. And today was one of those tiring days. 

It was around nine at night on a Monday. Having to work overtime for the deadline and missed the bus, really dreaded you out. You were both tired and hungry, arriving home only to find that your pet cat was missing. It really just was not your day.

To say you were panicking would be a bit of an understatement. Cookie was barely a four month-old cat and had a very tiny body. All the negative possibilities start filling your head and you were horrified by all of them. Not to mention how it was basically forbidden to bring pets in the apartment complex. It was one of the policies but you couldn't help it since Cookie was a rescue.

When you arrived at your apartment lobby with a cat snack on your hand, there wasn’t that many people there. You walked past a guy by the front desk, who had medium-length black locks and fair skin, with headphones dangling on his neck. You began to call your pet’s name as soon as you were outside the lobby, but suddenly you felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Are you looking for a small black Bombay cat?” It was the same guy who just walked past you.

“Oh my god, I am! Have you seen him???” You said, your voice was a little bit shaky. 

“He’s in my place, I’m on the seventh.” 

“Oh, me too!”

“I know.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised at how stoic he sounded saying that, but didn’t further question him on it. “I’m so sorry for bothering you, can I go get him now?”

“Sure, I was just gonna go up as well.”

When you both entered the elevator, you made a mental note to ask his name or at least introduce yourself. He was a neighbor after all. It was pretty silent inside the lift and you just hoped he didn’t hear your stomach rumbling ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, bearing the hunger for a little while. 

When the elevator door opened you followed him from behind as he led you to his door. When he stopped at his front door, your eyes were widened in shock. 

“You live next to me?!” 

“Yeah.” He said casually and unlocked the door. "I've seen you multiple times."

You chose to not further question and followed him but stopped when you had only took two steps in, because technically, the homeowner had not really officially permit you to come in. The guy seemed to notice how you just stood awkwardly and looked back. 

“You can sit down for a sec, I’ll go get him.” 

“Oh, right… yeah. Thank you.” You said awkwardly and walked to sit on his couch. 

A few seconds later the man came back with your cat in his embrace. Cookie was clinging on his tshirt before he tugged him and gave him onto your lap. 

“Cookie!” You called, almost teary. 

“I think he jumped from your balcony to mine. Make sure to close your balcony door next time.”

“Thank you so much, I owe you… uh…”

“Yoongi.” 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You repeated and introduced yourself in return. “I’m Y/N, and if you ever need anything please let me now.” You said as you stood up, already making your way out. 

“Also, thank you for not reporting it…”

“No problem.” Was all the guy said and by this point you figured he was not much of a talker. 

You bid your goodbye to your neighbor, which only gained a small nod before he closed the door on you. You walked to your door and let Cookie down as soon as you got inside. Sighing deeply, you began to feel your stomach rumble again, this time it rumbled quite loudly. Your feet were aching from standing on the bus and now your body finally got on how tired you were. 

Cookie meowed and immediately went to his cat bed and laid down. You sighed and smiled at the small creature. 

“You little rascal… you’re lucky I love you.” 

You then went to your kitchen to cook yourself some instant ramen. 

The next day you went to work and had to take another overtime. Unfortunately you had to for the rest of the week until your current project was done. It was exhausting but you had to make it and mostly thinking about the bonus pay from it helped quite a bit. You spent the next few days the same, repeating the schedules, and the tiring work. 

It was almost ten at night that you arrived home and found out Cookie had gone missing again. For some reason your first instinct was to knock on your next door, in hope the neighbor who once helped you, could lend you a hand again, and hoping maybe Cookie just ran to his place again instead of being gone somewhere where it wasn't safe for him.

You knocked on the door and didn’t get immediate answer. You waited for what felt like five minutes, before the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of your neighbor with wet hair. He had a small white towel around his neck and the hoop earring that you saw him with before was absent. His skin looked glowing, you probably needed to ask about his skin care routine later.

“So sorry to interrupt you, I was wondering if Cookie might have gone to your place again?” 

“He’s right there on the couch.” He casually pointed. His expression was straight and had you wondering if he did not mind it, bothered, or simply didn’t care. 

You slowly walked to approach your cat and bent down to its level. “Cookie, you need to stop this…” You tapped the cat's nose, as if scolding the poor cat would do anything. 

“He jumped to my balcony again, did you forget to close the door?” 

“But I made sure to close it this morning…” You looked at your neighbor, who walked closer to inspect the cat. 

“I think he knows how to turn door knobs, since he’s quite a jumper. You need to lock the door.” 

“I can’t believe this little demon…” You sighed, fingers still stroking the purring cat. 

“He’s… alright.” 

You were slightly taken aback by the response and looked up to him, but much to your disappointment, his expression still looked the same. You were about to get up and excuse yourself, but you notice a small steel bowl under his dining table, half full with what you assumed to be cat milk (I mean, it would be weird if it was his, duh!). 

“You also have a cat?”

His eyes followed yours. “Oh, that. I got it the first time Cookie came here, I figured he must be thirsty since he came in around noon time.” 

“That’s… that’s very nice of you.” You looked at him and smiled. Somehow him addressing your cat by his name sounded lovely. 

“You can have the rest of the milk if you want, since you’ve figured out how he escaped and all…” 

“It’s okay, you can keep it! Just in case he ran into you again…” You chuckled but then stopped after realizing how that just sounded like you did not mind troubling him with your cat continuously. “I mean… I’m sorry, I’ll make sure he’ll never escape again.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll keep the milk for now.” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just in case.”

You looked at your neighbor and couldn’t help but to feel all warm inside. He seemed like a nice person and from the looks of it he also liked your cat. 

“Thank you so much, Yoongi. I’ll be taking this little guy here then...” You smiled at him and stood up with Cookie in your arms. 

“I got some dim sum…” 

You looked at the guy questioningly. 

“Do you maybe want some?” 

“That’d be too much, it’s okay, you go ahead and eat.” You politely declined. Although you were hungry, you could bring yourself to bother your neighbor any more than what you had done. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“Y-yeah?” You asked, afraid you heard it wrong. 

“Have you eaten?” He repeated. “If not, then I insist you take some.”

“I…” You wanted to lie, but at this point it would come off as rude if you refuse him again. “I actually haven’t. Thank you very much though, I feel so bad that you’re being this nice to me.”

“You can just eat them here.” 

“I don’t wanna disturb—“ You were awkwardly cut by the sound of your stomach rumbling. 

“You’re not disturbing me.” He cleared his throat and looked away. 

That was embarrassing. 

And that was how you ended up sitting down on your neighbor’s dining table, eating dim sums. 

In silence. 

This Yoongi guy really did not like conversation it seemed. He was sitting down on his couch and had turned the TV on. The volume was on but not quite loudly, and Cookie was on his lap, sleeping as he occasionally stroked the cat’s head softly. Funny that somehow you could see some resemblance of Yoongi with your cat.

“So… how long have you lived here?” You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his answer. You kind of regretted asking as soon as the words came out from your mouth, afraid it would be awkward. 

“Around ten months or so.” He paused. “No, I think it’s been almost a year cause I spent two months overseas.”

“Really? What were you doing overseas?” You regretted asking again. Looking at how quiet Yoongi was, you didn’t want to ask too much or indulge into too much conversation, afraid it would be too much for him. 

But much to your surprise, he answered. “I’m a producer. I was working for this artist and all the work had to be done in America.” 

“Wow, that sounds amazing!” You said. At this point you no longer were sitting facing the table, but to him. “Who was the artist?”

“Uh… Halsey.” He replied while looking at the TV screen, seemingly to avoid your stare.

“Oh my god???” You gasped. “That’s incredible! So you’re like crazy talented?!”

“I’m alright…” 

“You should show me some of your work someday!” You said enthusiastically. When Yoongi did not reply to it and stayed silent, you cursed yourself internally. “I mean compared to what I do that’s like really amazing.” You chuckled nervously. 

“I’m sure you’re great at what you do.” He looked at you, a small smile was on his lips. 

You realized it was the first time you saw him smile and it made your heart raced rather faster than usual. It was the first time you saw him with facial expression other than his usual poker face. 

“I’m just a normal product designer at a very normal company.” You shrugged. 

“Don’t downplay yourself like that. You work very hard.” 

“Thanks…” You replied shyly. 

After finishing your food, you got up and went to wash the dishes, which immediately got stopped by the homeowner. He politely told you to go back home and rest. Which again, you could not thank him more for. 

You took your pet in your arms and said your goodbyes to your neighbor. Right when you arrived back in your place you came to realize something. Yoongi did not eat with you and there was only one portion of the food. While it could just meant he had already eaten beforehand, you felt giddy, thinking about another possibility. Was this a crush you sense forming? Frankly speaking, you could not care less. You were welcoming the possibility with open arms.

— 

Friday finally came and you were ready to take it in. The days of working with your company project was going to an end, which meant you no longer need to work overtime after this. The thought of it put you in a very good mood. 

This time right after arriving home, you walked to a nearby chicken restaurant and grab some not only for you, but also for your neighbor. You wanted to repay his kindness the past few days. After changing into some comfortable clothes, not to mention the multiple times you had to re-check the outfit in the mirror for some reason, you took your cat in your left hand and the food in the other. You knocked on your neighbor’s door hoping he was home. 

And he was. You were greeted with his silence but he opened the door wider as soon as he saw your face without question. One thing that caught your eyes though was how he was dressed up like he was ready for a night out. He wasn’t in his usual sweatpants and baggy t-shirt, but instead in a ripped wide legged jeans and a light blue shirt, unbuttoned, with a plain white tee underneath. He looked handsome. And here you were, in your so-called comfy outfit that you were starting to regret.

“Before you ask, no, Cookie’s right here.” You smiled awkwardly as you raised the small cat in your hand for him to see. “I’m just here to drop by some chicken I got for you… as a thanks for your help these past few days.” You handed the plastic of food to him. “Alright, that’s all…”

He took the food from you hesitantly. “You don’t wanna come in?” 

“Aren’t you going out or something?”

“I was… but you are here.” He said, sounding unsure. 

“That’s ridiculous, why would I stop you from going out?”

“I was gonna go to your place…” 

Your mouth formed a small O shape, unable to form a word. He was going to your place? But what for??? The butterflies in your stomach were having a blast. 

“But you’re all dressed up…”

“I was gonna change back.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which made you gulped at the sight. “I knew this was a bad idea I shouldn't have listened to Hoseok—”

You stopped his rambling. “What do you mean?”

“I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go eat together at that one Chicken restaurant nearby…”

“Oh.” You widened your eyes.

“Yeah.” He looked at you, biting his cheek in annoyance. 

“This is awkward.” You chuckled. 

“Whatever, just… just come in first.”

You saw Yoongi putting the plastic of food on his table. You offered help after putting down your cat on his couch and walked to his direction. Both of you plated the food in comfortable silence, it felt oddly domestic and you liked it. At this point you were used to him being not talkative and see it as his charm. 

After you took the plates to the living room, Yoongi suddenly came back with cans of beers and soju in his hands. 

“We’re drinking?” You said with an amused grin. 

“You can drink, right?” 

“Sure, but can you?” You playfully eyed him. 

“Don’t challenge me.” 

You could see how he was trying to hide his smile, and it brought colors to your cheeks. 

—

You did not know how you got in this situation. Five episodes in randomly rewatching Avatar The Last Airbender and you both were drunk. You were resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the screen. It seemed like the booze gave you confidence, or made you shameless, or both, but the guy didn’t complain so it could be a sign of a good thing. While you could see Yoongi holding his alcohol better than you, he was not completely sober either. 

It was at this very moment where you saw things through a pink tinted lense. Had Yoongi’s hair always looked that soft? Had he always looked this handsome? You began to question things you should not be questioning.

“Why didn’t you change your clothes?” You randomly asked. 

“Do I look bad?” He replied, eyes still on the screen, hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap. 

"Of course not, I just feel severely underdressed now..." You chuckled.

He eyed you from top to bottom, which made you nervous, but he shrugged, seemingly to not have any problem with your clothes.

“You look… handsome.”

“You think I look handsome?” He suddenly moved to face you, making you move to look at him as well. The tone of his voice sounded like he was teasing more than asking a question.

You nodded and bit your lips. “And you kinda look like Cookie.” You giggled. 

He raised one of his eyebrows, clearly not satisfied with your answer. 

“Your eyes…” You began to ramble. “They look just like Cookie’s, and when you look annoyed, or just your plain expression… you look like a cute cat.” 

“Really…” Yoongi hummed. 

“Yup!” You giggled like an idiot. 

You failed to notice how at this point, Yoongi has put Cookie down from his lap to the floor. His face only inches away from you as you kept rambling. 

“Your hair look so soft… like a cat’s fur.” You reached your hands closer to his hair, but stopped mid-way, scared he’d get uncomfortable. 

Yoongi surprised you again by grabbing both of your wrist and putting your hands on his hair, letting you stroke his head slowly. You saw his expression softened and as you kept playing with his hair, he closed his eyes. You swore you heard him purr. 

“Pretty.” You said with a drunk smile. 

“Hmm. Pretty.” He mirrored. 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

—

To be frank, you could not recall what happened after. You recalled some bits of karakoe-ing? Singing random PSY songs in your broken Korean using a bottle of whiskey as your mic. That was probably all? You couldn’t think while the throbbing headache was present in the room with you.

So why were you now in a bed that was not yours, wearing a t-shirt that was too big for you and was clearly not yours, also for heaven’s sake, WHY IS YOONGI SLEEPING NEXT TO ME??? 

You froze. Did you??? There was no way. Sure you found him attractive and all, and you definitely had this huge crush on him, but you couldn’t just sleep with a guy you barely knew. Besides your headache, your body didn’t feel any pain, so that was probably a good sign. What if he was just that gentle? Okay, you need to stop thinking at once before you started a whole fiction about you and Yoongi in your head.

When you turned your back, you felt the other side of the bed shifted as well. 

“You’re up?” He asked with a raspy voice. 

“Yeah.” You said, still back-facing him. “We didn’t… you know…”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Oh, okay good.”

Yoongi did not answered to that, but instead you felt him scooting closer. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t probably how you’d wanna spend your weekend.” You chuckled. 

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand over your waist. “Is this okay?” He suddenly stopped when your body tensed at his touch. 

You nodded, heart beating too loudly for you to form any sentence. 

“This is nice.” He said, resting his forehead on your back. 

When you stayed silent, he took your hand and turned you over to face him. Heat immediately took over your body as soon as your eyes meet. You noticed he was back in his usual home attire, oversized tee and sweatpants. His hair was messy, but it seemed like universe had its favorite cause he still looked good. 

“You know, I haven’t had good sleep in… weeks.”

You were surprised by his sudden confession.

“It’s half past eleven now, and it’s not even ten minutes after I woke up…” He tittered. “My anxiety has been getting worse the past month and out of nowhere a black cat suddenly jumped to my balcony, meowing non-stop while I was working.”

You looked at him, letting him finish his talk. This was the most words you had ever heard coming out of Yoongi’s mouth and it made your heart flutter. 

“I haven’t been caring. I’ve stopped caring, for a while now. Seeing you care so much for such a small creature… I don’t know, it feels good. It makes me wanna care.”

“Yoongi…” You cooed, caressing his cheek. "It's not true, all you have been since I first met you until this moment, was caring."

"I'm sorry if it feels like it came out of nowhere but I feel at home with you and I don’t know why...” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yet, at least.”

“I… like this too. A lot actually.” You said shyly. 

“I would like to get to know you more if you’d like.” He was being honest and exactly to the point, no flirty bullshit to spice his sentences.

“I’d love that...” 

Suddenly you heard a low meow from under the bed and Cookie jumped into the bed, joining you two. Apparently his bedroom door was left opened and none of you noticed how Cookie had entered. You giggled and he smiled as well, the widest smile and the most genuine you had ever seen from him, as he took the cat and cuddled both of you close.

"I think it's about time you give me your number..." You squinted at him playfully. "You know, so we don't repeat the whole chicken restaurant accident again?"

“Okay, but promise me first you won’t apologize again after kissing me.” He chuckled. 

“EXCUSE ME WHAT???”

— 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi laughed. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

“I can be crazier if you open that whiskey.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

Yoongi just shook his head, smiling at your silliness. He stood up and went to grab his Hibiki anyway, which earned a shout of celebration from you. 

Things escalated quickly after opening the bottle. Somehow you were starting a drunk karaoke session which followed by many dance breaks. You ended up crying when a sad song randomly came up in the playlist and when Yoongi asked why, you replied. You replied with your lips on his.

In your head it just made sense. It was his lips’ fault for looking so juicy. Yeah, totally his fault for looking so hot that it was driving you insane.

None of you moved and it only lasted seconds before your mood turned sour again. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean…” You pushed him gently. “Oh my god, you’re so gonna hate me!!!”

“Hey, calm down…“ 

You started to panic, tears now forming in your eyes again. “Please don’t hate me, I just wanted to kiss you…” You cried. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough drinking—“

And you puked. 

Yes, Yoongi did see your lilac colored bra when he helped you change into his t-shirt. But that’s a secret between him and little Cookie. 

Thank you for reading! 💎

part 2 is here!

[yaymiyas]

ISEKAI!YANDERE!CROWN PRINCE INTRODUCTION

warning: female reader, his name is saer…just so you can follow a bit lol, isekai lol

a/n: it’s structured a bit differently than my other introductions, do note that yes this is x reader but you had gotten isekai’d into a novel so….i do say her name but…..you’re also you…..if that makes sense, also he is hardly in it but its like….an introduction to the story bc its…an isekai and i needed to layout how i wanted everything to be

its not like you didn’t realize something was up. bright white lights blind you right when you open your eyes. maids coming in and out, calling you ‘miss’ and telling you not to sit up because ‘it will harm you even more’. granted, you were very thankful for their words because, around ten minutes before they came in, you attempted to sit up and gave yourself a headache. even though nobody was explaining anything, you remained quiet, trying to gather as much information from the surrounding maids as possible. the red-haired one with tight curls and an everlasting smile was amanda. she seemed to like you much, more than the other two, and tended to you more carefully. maybe she was your personal maid,or maybe she was just good at her job, but she never let up and called you your ‘name’.

admittedly, none of the other two maids called you your ‘name’ either. it was all just ma’am or miss from them. you just expected a hint of your identity from amanda, based solely on her care for you. selfish? maybe but you needed more hints. the other maids are named cynthia and tilly. the former of the two had long black hair slicked into a low bun, with a small maids hair on top to finish the look. it was a cute detail, if you must say, since the other two didn’t wear them. cynthia hardly spoke above a shout, coming off as more soft-spoken than the other two. she wasn’t really rude, nor did she have an attitude while tending to you, but she wore an expression of indifference that made you think she would rather do anything else.

tilly, on the other hand, was more bold than the other two. still not outwardly rude, but she tested your patience a few times. the main one that got to you though, was when she was rubbing your face. while she was washing off your face with the washcloth, she rubbed against your cheeks too hard, and upon this ‘realization’ she gave you a malevolent grin. her thin lips formed an o shape, mimicking the action of saying ‘oops’. luckily, it seemed as if amanda and cynthia didn’t really care for this ‘prank’ of hers. they both scoffed in disgust, continuing to pick out outfits for me to wear for the day ahead.

a soft but stern knock was heard at the door, revealing a man with black slick back hair and yellow eyes to put the look all together. he reminded you of those webtoon male leads that were cold but female audiences loved. being a sucker for those types, you raised your neck up, making sure to keep your body in the same supine position. the man standing at the foot of your bed looked down at you with an expression that you couldn’t read. an expression that wasn’t scary but wasnt welcoming. tapping along the footboard of the bed, he let out a low sigh out that resembled a growl and turned around to leave. tilly, amanda, and cynthia didn’t acknowledge the man. neither did he to them. the only thing that could resemble an interaction between the four of them was when tilly and amanda gave small bows and the slight side eye cynthia gave before going back inside your closet to look for something.

“madam,”

thats a new one.

“lord saer would like you to have breakfast with him today.”

lifting your head enough to turn your focus towards amanda, you started to guess your facial expression was a bit too expressive because amanda started to giggle. the pain in your body wasn’t really high; it was more the numbness that bothered you. moving your neck and head didn’t really take much strength, it was attempting to move your legs that was the problem. walking towards you in a shift movement, amanda placed the rich, deep purple hair piece down on top of the dress set she had picked out for you. upon arrival, she softly removed your blanket and shifted your body into a sitting position. you felt like a doll.

“okay now miss, i will be lifting you up to wash you now.”

placing her right arm underneath the backs of your knees and her left arm supporting your neck, she quickly moved you to the area you’re assuming was the bathroom. the door to the large room was already open, since once she had lifted you up, cynthia had pushed the door open and walked in herself. the room was massive, twice the size of a normal person’s kitchen. the walls and floor tiles were both the same shade of pale pink, matching the sleeping set you had on. amanda sat you down in a chair and started to strip you down. while she was doing that, the other was running the bath water and testing if it was safe enough. every time the water was a bit too hot or too cold, you saw cynthia’s eyes squeeze shut.

“alright madam edina,”

cynthia sighed, standing up from the clam shaped tub.

“it’s all set for you. please do not make it hard as you have always done.”

not sparing you even a small look, she and amanda were already picking you up and guiding you into the tub. quietly instructing you to lay back, wet, cold liquid found its way both on your scalp and on your legs. edina? are you sure thats what she said? the only edina you knew of was the villainess from the hit novel “obsession falls”. you never really read the book, but you knew of the characters and the content that surrounded it. it was rather controversial for how obsessive and dangerous the male lead was. he had stalked the female lead for years, and it didn’t stop once he got married. with a wife so dismissive and uninterested, the male lead was given all the time in the world to go hunt his prey.

unfortunately for him, once edina randomly started to care about what her husband was doing during the day he had to slowly stop. losing the love of his life to the second male lead, alastair. due to this very random string of events, saer had grown irritated by the events his wife was clumsily stringing together. he then decided to take care of his wife, edina. the night before he was to go and kill alastair, he had poisoned the dinner he had helped make for his wife. from your memory, this was one of the few times in years he had asked his wife to sit at the table and eat with him. she would usually just take her food into her room separately. this night, edina came into the dining room with her most expensive jewelry and dress. she thought this was the night her husband was going to admit his faults and leave the female lead for her. however, what actually ended up happening was that the moment she took a bite out of her steak, her vision went black and her head banged on the table.

focusing on the soft brushes of your hair, you start to put the pieces together. you don’t remember the faces of any of the characters in the story, you just remember the basic blot and conflict. if what cynthia said was true, that you are in fact edina tudor gwynn then that means the reasoning for your stiff body was because of your ‘husband’ trying to kill you. sharply sucking in some air, you seek strength within your legs. even though the lower half of your body was still partially numbed, the feeling of pins and needles filled the tip of your toes to the back of your knees. not wanting to cause much of a scene, even though you were sure she wouldn’t care much, you looked up to check to see if your maid was paying you any mind. cynthia was too focused on rinsing your body, while amanda stopped brushing your hair to grab towels for you.

“cynthia,”

it was amazing how you could even get that out. due to the affects of the poison, your throat had become overly dry and it hurt you to even swallow. that was mainly one of the reasons as to why you hardly spoke to them this morning. stopping in her tracks, she lazily turned her head into your direction. the woman didn’t have much of any emotion on her face. her eyelids halfway down, making it appear that she was tired or just bored. her lips were in a thin line. you had hardly seen her smile or really speak, so you started to believe this was just how her resting face looked like.

“why did he poison me?”

tilting her head a bit, cynthia’s facial expression changed. it was as if your question intrigued her. her low eyelids raised a bit, along side her eyebrows, as she tried to tame the smile that was creeping on her thin lips. this was the most expressive you have ever seen her. she began to part her lips when amanda came back through the door with the towels.

“perhaps this conversation will need to be revisited, my lady.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Between Dreams and Sugar

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)

A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after. 

 On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before. 

Hell, you wished you were drunk. 

“Sergeant.” 

You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop. 

You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.

“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles. 

Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?

Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function. 

A dark growl bounces off the walls.

Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars. 

They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out. 

You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.

“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…” 

“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.

Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe. 

Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony. 

Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day. 

But you entertain him.

Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood. 

Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did. 

Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away. 

His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present. 

The gulping sigh.

“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”

“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”  

A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out. 

“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?” 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before. 

But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.

They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished. 

Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen. 

Fuck, it made him sick.

Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.

What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.

How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest. 

“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team. 

His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.

You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well. 

Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.

Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died. 

“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.” 

“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.” 

The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.

A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry. 

But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost. 

“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver. 

“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”

“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks. 

You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day. 

“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets. 

He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.

“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.

Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.

“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred. 

Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.

The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.

He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.

You had to be okay.

Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.

“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone. 

The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red. 

“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”

“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”  

The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest. 

Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later. 

Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.

The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend. 

“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.

“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—

Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade. 

The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart. 

Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on. 

It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.

The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight. 

Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment. 

You on the other hand. 

Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.” 

Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.” 

Alric smiles.

“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness. 

Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils. 

It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself. 

“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.” 

Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells. 

“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”

Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain. 

The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.

Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life. 

The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed. 

His bird doesn’t bleed.

Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment. 

He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.

“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!” 

Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.

—

You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one. 

But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat. 

Every limb is a cinder block.

“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely. 

“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple. 

Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.

A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.

“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.” 

The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.

Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.

“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?” 

Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.

“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”

He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds. 

Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth. 

Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp. 

“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart. 

Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.” 

He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs. 

“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.” 

“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.” 

Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.

“They’re nothing.” 

“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.

“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house. 

Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise. 

“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form. 

Ghost snaps forward.

“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”

The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.

So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine. 

Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.

He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.

“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.” 

A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter. 

“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.

“What’s that?” 

“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.” 

A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.

“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”

Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”  

Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.

“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured. 

You know what he means.

“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb. 

When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body. 

“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention. 

“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.

“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”

“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.” 

“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body. 

A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back. 

Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you. 

The word seems to stop.

“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to. 

Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.

“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.” 

“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”

“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.” 

“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles. 

You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”

Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him. 

Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.

“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.

“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.

“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.

“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.

Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward. 

“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward. 

“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head. 

“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.” 

—

“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.

The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread. 

“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.

“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide. 

“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue. 

“I think that was a challenge.” 

“It wasn’t.”

The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.

“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can. 

The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.

You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.

“One of everything.”

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[hyunebunx]

💓 with felix omg can you imagine how adorable

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💓- 'a trail of kisses along the partner's jawline or collarbone'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!!

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. pairing: felix x gn!reader

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: teriii this took me forever i'm sorry 😔 i just realised the reason i'm so slow with requests is bc i'm unable to write anything if i don't make the characters head over heels in love with each other. anywayss, i hope you like it 🩷🫶🏻

“Love.” He calls out lowly, nuzzling your neck affectionately while your fingers comb through blond locks, massaging his scalp. Felix has pretty much melted into your arms, eyes barely open and not focused on the movie he insisted on watching together for the past week, missing the whole plot. “Look at me.”

“Lix, baby, my darling sunshine.” You giggle, eyes still trained on the tv screen, which has him groaning in protest. “I’m watching the movie. The one you’ve been babbling about for weeks. Why aren’t you?”

He mumbles something against your skin, too quiet for you to hear. “What was that?”

“I said, I’m bored.” He lets out a dramatic sigh, raising his head to look you in the eyes, everything in you softening once those plump lips jut out in a slight pout.

Movie all forgotten, you reach to push the hair out of his face, tenderly tucking the loose strands behind his ears to which Felix leans into your touch like a man starved of affection for weeks on end. Your thumb then moves to wipe off a small food stain near his lips, some chocolate that didn’t reach its destination and decide to hang onto your boyfriend’s gorgeous face for a while longer, also mesmerised by his beauty.

“Should we watch something else, then?” You inquire, spreading your arms to welcome him back into your embrace. Felix doesn’t even bother to answer before diving in, taking his rightful place into the crock of your neck with a soft, relieved sigh.

A moment later, he shakes his head, strong hands kneading your waist and pushing you further into the couch, all of his body needing to be touching yours in some capacity. “It’s almost over anyway.”

His lips then find their way to your jawline, peppering feather like kisses along the surface in a true, cuddlebug fashion. Your smile widens, the hand that’s not in his hair coming to lay on his back and caress the covered skin in a comforting manner as Felix lets most of his weight rest on you.

“What do you want to want to do after?” His kisses barely let you finish, pillowy lips trailing down to your neck which causes you to giggle, their gentleness tickling. Asking might prove redundant because Felix only gets this affectionate when he’s tired, your shared bed calling his name in the sweetest voice only he can hear.

You reach for the remote to turn the tv down, losing all interest in the movie as Felix ponders the question, placing a sweet kiss behind your ear that has a shiver running down your spine. Sitting up, he releases your waist to hold both of your hands, interlacing your fingers to bring them up to his lips more easily.

His answer is surprising. “Talk.”

“About?” You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to sit up as exhaustion seems to rest right on your bones.

As expected, it doesn’t take Felix long to return to your side, hovering over you and delicately pinning one of your hands right next to your head on a comfy cushion. “You.” He nods, smiling widely when you move just a tad bit to rub your nose against his, chuckling.

“What else do you want to know?” Your free hand moves to his nape, caressing the skin there which always gives Felix goosebumps. “My life isn’t as exciting as yours, I don’t have that many interesting stories to tell.”

Felix disagrees, dropping down to leave another trail of delicate kisses along your collarbones, cheekily hooking a finger under your shirt’s collar to expose even more skin. “Everything. I want to know everything about you.”

Your heart skips several beats, all possible responses dying on your tongue as they witness how much this man loves and cares about you. To be known is to be loved, and Felix wanted to make sure he knew everything before attempting to love you properly, exactly how you deserved to be loved for the rest of your life. A life he hoped and prayed you’d share with him.

His voice is low, barely above a whisper as he confesses his profound feelings. “I want every single detail about you to be engraved on my mind, and heart for as long as I live, to make sure I never forget a minute out of all the time we’ve spent together.”

“I want to recognize you from people’s stories, to work out exactly why you chose one thing over the other. I already recognize your footsteps as you walk down the hall to visit me at work – and the sound has me grinning like a fucking idiot.” He exhales, resting his forehead just above your frantically beating heart. “Can you imagine how happy knowing everything else about you would make me feel? I think I might burst.”

No, you couldn’t, because you could never wrap your head around being loved so genuinely and openly. Being loved for the real you, with the good, the bad and the ugly parts you have never shown anyone.

But Felix, as persistent as he was, will only stop once he can prove you wrong and make it a reality.

[nightsandrewrites]

Illyrian Males

Pairing: Cazriel x Reader

Summary: Cassian and Azriel make a bet to see who can get Y/N first. But is she already seeing someone?

Word count: 13k oops

Warnings: M/M before you get to readers involvement, smut, 18+, dubious consent if you squint

a/n: It wasn’t meant to be this long but I couldn’t keep the bat boys off each other so…

———————————————————————

You swirl the last of your drink around your glass, enjoying the cool night air flowing through the House of Wind. The door to the balcony lies open where Feyre and Mor just left with a sleeping Nyx. Mor was escorting Feyre and the Prince of the Night Court back to the River House before returning home herself.

You know the High Lord would have escorted his lady himself had Feyre not insisted. “Stay and enjoy more time with your family, you work too hard.”

Now it was only the Ilyrrian brothers left with you in the small sitting area. You watch as Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel grin at each other like children who are up to no good. It warms your heart to see them happy and spending time together after everything you’ve all been through. You decided it’s time you excused yourself for bed and let the boys have their night together. You down the rest of your drink before standing.

“I’m off to bed, keep the volume down you lot.” You give them a smile and turn, making your way down the hall.

Cassian watches Y/N leave. His initial stare is innocent, noting her stride and balance, indicating to him how much she’s had to drink. But as she retreats down the hall he can’t help that his eyes fall to her swaying hips. The dress she’s wearing perfectly hugging her curves and the thought of tearing it of-

“You’re fucking Y/N” Rhysand states and Cassian whips his head round to him. Rhysand’s expression is relaxed as his eyes flick between him and Azriel. As if he had stated something as obvious as ‘the sky was blue’’.

Cassian looks across at Azriel. He was sure the same confused expression was plastered on his own face.

You fucked her? Cassian asks through their shared mating bond.

Of course not. Did you? He questions back.

Cassian doesn’t bother replying, he knows Azriel can feel his confusion and suspicion all the way down the bond.

“What are you talking about?” Cassian turns back to Rhys who was silently watching their exchange.

“In the hundreds of years I’ve known you, both of you, I’ve never seen either of you look at someone like that,” he nods to the hallway you disappeared down “except each other.” He pulls his drink to his lips, hiding a small smirk.

Cassian wills his cheeks not to warm, having been caught out lusting after someone who wasn’t his mate. But Rhysand had said both of them? Had Azriel also been watching you leave with more than just friendly affection in his eyes? He spares a glance to Azriel who is already watching him, head tilted in consideration.

“Well I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but you need to get your eyes checked old man.” Cassian stands and pats Rhysands shoulder as he moves past him to the small bar against the wall. He really needed to be doing something with his hands right now and pouring another drink was the perfect excuse to get out from under the scrutinising eyes of his mate and High Lord.

“My mistake.” He chuckles and quickly moves on to discussing plans for a boys night out.

————————————————————————

Azriel towels off his damp hair in the mirror. It was now well into the early hours of the morning, Rhysand having only just headed home for the night. He probably should have just gone to bed, but he does his best thinking while soaking in warm waters.

He tracks one of his shadows in the mirror as it swirls up his bicep and curls around his ear, whispering to him.

Cassian leaving his room….

Another shadow brushes the back of his neck

...coming to see us.

Azriel always used his shadows as sentinels, guarding the hallway outside his room. As much as he would like to give Cassian his privacy, his shadows seemed to be just as obsessed with the Illyrian warrior as he was. Often reporting his comings and goings without request.

He wraps a towel around his waist and moves into his bedroom looking for something to wear. With trained Illyrian hearing he could now pick up on Cassian’s footfalls down the hall. They’d kept their separate rooms, as no one except Rhysand was aware of their mating bond. Their ability to communicate silently through the bond was a massive advantage in combat, they didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about it and that information spreading across courts. But they couldn’t have really hoped to keep it from Rhysand with how often he was inside their heads.

Azriel senses Cassian open the door and walk in as he’s pulling underwear out of a draw.

“I’m changing asshole” Azriel glares at him over a shoulder.

“What? Have something I haven’t seen before?” Cassian rolls his eyes and throws himself into the armchair in the corner of the room, letting his head fall back in exhaustion.

Azriel takes a moment to appreciate Cassian’s bare torso and follows the cut of his muscles that disappear beneath soft grey pants. He drops his eyes to the floor noticing his shadows already slithering along to the General. Cassian lifts his head and looks him up and down waiting for him to drop his towel. Azriel feels his cheeks warm under the intense gaze. He racks his mind for something to distract Cassian with, that would allow him to change in peace, and remembers Rhysand’s comment about Y/N tonight.

“So, you’ve finally grown bored of me and have moved on to eye fucking our roomate?” Azriel raises an eyebrow at him. That did the trick. Cassian drops his face to the floor where shadows now swirl around his ankles, slowly climbing his covered calves. Azriel quickly drops his towel and pulls on his underwear. He softly closes the drawer with his hip, he wouldn’t need anymore clothing tonight with the heater of an Illyrian that was Cassian sharing his bed.

“Rhysand definitely didn’t think it was just me.” Cassian lifts his eyes back to Azriel, cheeks flushed with the slightest of pink. Azriel makes his way to the edge of the bed before replying.

“So what if I was?” Azriel leans back on his hands, shoulders flexing under his weight. Cassian’s eyebrows shoot up. He stands and strides across the room, shadows still clinging to him, almost at his waist now.

“Are you saying I don’t satisfy you anymore?” Cassian bends over him, leaning large strong hands on Azriel’s thighs. Azriel feels him squeeze ever so slightly.

“Maybe she’d actually be able to follow instructions.” Azriel smirks up at him. Referencing all the times that Cassian has failed to follow his commands. Hands up, no touching until I say. Stay quiet baby, you don’t want the others to hear you. And Azriel’s personal favourite. Don’t finish until I tell you to.

Azriel leans forward, brushing his lips against Cassian’s ear as he whispers “Or maybe I keep imagining her lips wrapped around your dick as I take you from behind.” Azriel watches the shiver that runs down Cassian’s spine. He slides his hand up Cassian’s inner thigh, scattering the shadows there, until he lands on the Illyrians rock hard length.

Cassian suddenly pushes him backwards and Azriel slides further up the bed. He climbs the mattress pushing Azriel’s legs apart as he settles himself between them. His pupils are blown wide and his wings pump once behind him in a show of dominance.

“You think her tongue, her warm pussy, would have you moaning the way you do when you’re fucked out on my cock?” Cassian growls as he shoves down his pants, releasing himself from their restraint. He pumps himself and Azriel can only bite his lip in anticipation as he watches Cassian’s hand make two long strokes.

Azriel bucks his hips up, pinned under Cassian’s hungry gaze. Cassian’s lips raise in a half smirk and he swiftly removes Azriel’s underwear. His eyes never leave Azriel’s as he slowly reaches out to the bottle on the nightstand and lubes his fingers. Azriel knows he’s doing it on purpose, wants him to squirm for a moment before giving him what he wants. He finally leans over Azriel, reaches down and slowly circles his hole. Azriel closes the distance between them, capturing Cassian's bottom lip between his teeth, a silent plea to hurry up.

Cassian pushes inside him with two fingers, pumping quickly, already spreading him open. Azriel drops his head back into the pillow with a moan. Cassian knows he likes to take his pleasure with a side of pain, so wouldn’t take too much care in opening him up. Azriel shifts his legs up a little giving Cassian better access.

“That smart mouth of yours has nothing left to say?” Cassian murmurs against his skin as he kisses down his exposed neck. Azriel only lets out a soft moan in response.

It’s only a couple of more strokes with skilled fingers before Cassian’s lining his head up with Azriel’s ass. He enters him in one swift motion that has Azriel arching off the bed. Cassian sets an unrelenting pace that has him seeing white behind his eyes. A calloused hand wraps around Azriel’s length and gives him swift pumps that match the deep strokes inside him.

Azriel can barely think straight with Cassian consuming every nerve. Cassian shifts back on his knees a little, dragging Azriel with him.

“You think Y/N could read your body like this?” Cassian continues his unwavering thrusts as his grip on Azriel’s cock tightens. Azriel feels it then. Feels soft gliding strokes across the inner part of his right wing and he can’t stop the whine that escapes him.

Cassian, the cocky bastard, chuckles above him. Azriel reels in the last of his focus to retort.

“I wouldn’t need her to, she’d be riding my face right now.” Cassian’s dick twitches inside him at the comment and the Illyrian above him lets out a low possessive growl. He pulls out of Azriel and quickly flips him on his front, lifts his hips and thrusts back into him hard. Cassian bends over him trapping his wrists to the bed.

“Now you get to cum untouched.” Cassian sneers at him.

Azriel has lost the power of speech, the new deeper angle has him coming undone. Every stroke has Cassian dragging over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Azriel isn’t concerned how his comments might land with Cassian. Every time he mentions Y/N he can feel Cassian’s lust flaring through the bond.

A few more snaps of Cassian’s hips have them both exploding, Azriel moaning into his pillow before they both collapse in a pile of sweaty limbs.

“Now I’m going to need another bath.” Azriel huffs, rolling onto his side facing Cassian.

“Sucks to be you” Cassian smirks and Azriel punches his bicep before leaning in and kissing him gently.

————————————————————————

Cassian pulls back and speaks into Azriel’s mind, too exhausted for more words.

It’s weird isn’t it, that we both started… noticing Y/N at the same time?

Just noticing? Azriel chuckles. Is that all it is, is it?

You know what I mean. Cassian physically rolls his eyes at him.

It is a little strange. Azriel admits as he rolls on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Too bad for you she would pick me over you.

As if! Cassian gives his arm a shove with his elbow.

Want to bet? Loser has to go down on the winner for a month straight. Azriel turns his head back to Cassian, eyebrows raised in challenge. Cassian quickly glances down between the Shadowsingers legs. He quickly debates how much damage Azriel’s considerable length could do in that amount of time.

Make it two weeks and you’re on. Cassian narrows his eyes. Are we talking, taking her to bed? He lets his features fall then and lets his wariness flow through the bond. He’s unsure how’d he feel taking someone to bed without his mate.

Let’s just go with getting her to agree on a date. Azriel reaches up and strokes the back of his fingers down Cassian’s stubbled jawline. Pure love vibrates through him from the threads that lay between them.

You’re on. Cassian leans forward and seals the bet with a quick kiss.

———————————————————————

A week passes and Cassian can’t stop thinking about the bet they made. He didn’t want to act too soon, didn’t want Azriel to think him too eager in going after Y/N. But who was he kidding? He found himself back in that sitting room, weekly drinks in full swing, watching Y/N bite her lip, holding in a laugh to the story Amren was telling her about the boys.

You’re drooling. Azriel teases down the bond. Cassian forces his eyes away from her and to the drink in his lap.

I am not. He scoffs. He looks up at Azriel sitting across from him, mischievously staring at him with knowing eyes. A bead of condensation runs down Azriel’s glass and he watches as Az strokes a long finger up the side wiping it away. God those fingers. He can almost feel how’d they brush his skin, how they’d pull at his hair and dig into his hips. How Cassian would take Azriel’s finger into his mouth, running his tongu-

Unless you want me to show you what these fingers can do to you right here, in front of everyone, I suggest you stop. Azriel’s eye’s darken as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Who’s drooling now? Cassian smirks at him.

Y/N’s laughter brings him back to the room. The others are almost doubled over at the story Amren just finished. Rhys starts topping up glasses with the bottle of wine in his hand, but Y/N holds up a hand when he reaches her.

“I think I need some water and maybe a snack.” She explains as she stands and heads through the door and down the hall to the kitchen.

So you haven’t talked to Y/N yet. Worried she’s going to say no to you? Azriel has obviously recovered from the images Cassian had thrown down the bond moments ago.

You haven’t either. Cassian quips back.

Oh no, I’m happy for you to go first. I want to give you a fighting chance. Azriel teases. Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, puts down his glass and makes his way to the door.

As he’s leaving he feels a mix of amusement and curiosity flow through the bond between them. Followed by a small tug of jealousy. Cassian smirks to himself, Azriel should be jealous, he was about to lay the charm on so thick, no fae would say no to him. But as he reaches the hallway he turns and winks.

Fuck me later asshole. And watches as Azriel visibly relaxes at his words.

————————————————————————

You slice the block of cheese in front of you, carefully avoiding your fingers. You can’t imagine the ribbing you’d get from the boys if you turned up to training tomorrow with a bandaged hand from slicing cheese.

Your vision wobbles ever so slightly and you decide it’s probably best not to push your drunken state and carefully put the knife down. You slide a couple of pieces of bread and cheese onto a plate and turn to go back to the sitting room when you find an Illyrian in the way.

“Want some bread and cheese?” You offer out the plate to Cassian.

“Sure.” He smiles broadly. He enters the kitchen completely, pulling his wings in tight through the doorway. He takes one look at the few pieces on the plate and scoops every last one into his hands.

“Cass!” You smack his shoulder lightly as he turns away chuckling, throwing pieces into his mouth.

“Sit, I’ll get you some more. Wouldn’t want you to slice a finger off with that cutting technique.” He gives you a wink as you take a seat at one of the stools pulled up to the high table in the centre of the kitchen. How long had he been standing there watching you struggle?

You take a moment to focus on Cassian at work. Broad shoulders and muscled biceps were on display tonight through a tight black t-shirt. Muscles under the tan skin of his forearms ripple as he makes light work of preparing your midnight snack. Your eyes start tracing the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that cover his arms, you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you could count, so you know where they swirl across his chest. But beyond that, where those lines lead you could only imagine… No you shouldn’t be imagining. You catch yourself having leant forward on the table following the imagined lines and play it off as intense interest in his slicing technique.

You can not be having those kinds of thoughts about one of your best friends. Someone you lived in the same house as and someone who was fucking one of your other best friends. Of course they don’t know you know that. You don’t even know how you’d begin that conversation.

Hey Az, hey Cass. I was heading back from the library late one night when one of your shadows caught my eye. It seemed to be beckoning me and I thought something might be wrong so I followed it. Turns out, when I approached the sound of your hushed voices, they became moans and I thought you guys were either going at it or one you had finally decided to stab the other..

Okay stabbing was not the imagery you needed right now. Regardless, that was months ago and ever since you’ve been picking up more and more on the looks the two Illyrians share throughout a regular day. Something was definitely going on between the two of them and you weren’t going to be the one to bring it up.

Cassian pulls over the empty plate you discarded on the table between you. He piles on pieces of cheese and bread, but instead of pushing it back towards you he picks it up and walks around the table. He stops right beside you and you turn to face him.

He places the plate down beside you and leans on his elbow against the table.

“Sorry I stole your snack.” He pouts jokingly at you.

“Apology accepted.” You say as you pluck a piece off the plate. “Would you like some more?” You offer him after downing two more pieces and picking up a third.

“I’d love some.” He leans forward slightly and opens his mouth for you. His playfulness catches you off guard but you quickly recover and reach out to hold a piece of bread and cheese to his mouth.

He takes them from your fingers and before you can pull away, he catches your thumb as well. Without breaking eye contact his teeth gently graze the pad of your thumb. You freeze a little and let out a small gasp that you hope he doesn’t notice. He smirks and leans back.

“An interesting snack of choice.” He nods down at the plate, a smile still playing in his eyes.

“Uh.” You stumble a little bit, trying to recover from whatever the Hel that was. “It was just what was lying around.”

“The best midnight snack is the one that takes no effort.” He pushes off the table and heads to the next room that holds an ice chest for the cold foods. It gives you a minute to clear your head, you turn back to the plate to determine what exactly just happened when movement catches in the corner of your eye. You turn just in time to see two of Azriel’s shadows cross paths in the darkness of the doorway.

What kind of game do these two think they’re playing? Well if that’s how it’s going to be, then game on.

Cassian returns to the kitchen, a bowl of strawberries in one arm and a smaller bowl of fresh cream in the other. He was about to make this way too easy for you.

He returns to stand next to you, placing the bowels on the table pushing the plate of bread and cheese out of the way. He picks up a strawberry, dips it into the cream and brings it up to his lips.

“See, so easy and I could eat this whole bowel in one sitting.” He places almost the whole strawberry into his mouth and bites it off before the stem.

You follow his lead and bite through a cream dipped strawberry. It really was delicious, you might even make this a new favourite. You both sit in silence for a few minutes, taking turns dipping and eating strawberries.

Azriel once taught you that sometimes all you had to do to get someone to talk was to sit quietly and wait for them to fill the silence. As if on queue…

“So I was thinking.” Cassian picks up a strawberry and rolls it between his fingers. “How about you go to dinner with me and I can show you some of my other favourite food combinations?” He glances up at you. So he wants to take you out to dinner? You might be playing the game now but you still weren’t sure what the end goal was. Had they caught you staring a little too long at Azriel’s chiselled torso during training? Maybe their aim was your total and utter humiliation to teach you a lesson about coveting something that wasn’t yours?

“Oh, uh.” You fake a little flustering. Okay so maybe you didn’t need to fake being flustered when an Illyrian, that literally looked like a winged god, was asking you on a date.

“I’m flattered but I’ve actually been seeing someone recently.” You let the lie roll off your tongue and pretend to be extremely occupied selecting the perfect strawberry.

“Really?” Cassian straightens and you don’t miss the way his wings puff up a little. “Why haven’t you introduced him to everyone?”

You shrug and pick up one of the largest strawberries, coating it in a thick layer of cream.

“Oh you know, it’s not that serious yet. Just a bit of fun.” You bring the strawberry to your mouth and the cream is already beginning to run onto your fingers.

You stick out your tongue and run a long stripe through the cream. You feel Cassian stiffen next to you. Just as you suspected, way too easy. You quickly finish off your strawberry, leaving you with two fingers covered in cream. You suck them into your mouth and turn to Cassian with wide innocent eyes as you pull them out past your lips.

“Thanks for the midnight snack Cass.” You smile and hop off the stool and leave him staring after you in the middle of the kitchen.

————————————————————————

Another shadow slips through the cracked door. It slides its way along to join the others currently swirling around Azriel, slumped in an armchair in the corner of the room. With no candles lit in Cassian’s bedroom, he may as well be invisible.

The newly returned shadow slides around his neck.

Gone, Cassian alone.

Seconds later Cassian pushes open the door and then clicks it shut. He strides across the room, pieces of his hair coming loose of their bindings as he braces his hands on the desk, leaning over the mess of paperwork.

“Didn’t go as you planned then huh?” Azriel speaks up from his shadowy hiding place.

Cassian’s shoulders stiffen in surprise but quickly relax as he turns.

“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Cassian leans back against the desk folding his arms across his chest.

Azriel commands all of the shadows to disperse.

“Just because you got rejected doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” Azriel smirks at him. Enjoying for a moment that Cassian finally found someone who would say no to him.

“Please, she didn’t reject me, she’s seeing someone.” Cassian rolls his eyes. And fuck the way Azriel wants to bend him over and spank his ass red raw for doing so.

A shadow glides over Azriels shoulder.

Never seen her with a male.

“Do you think she really is seeing someone though? I’ve never seen or scented another male around her.” Azriel crosses his ankles out in front him, chin resting on intertwined hands.

“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to keep it quiet. But one thing I do know, she wanted to say yes. You should have smelt her Az.” Cassian grins widely. Flashes of strawberries, cream and Y/N’s tongue filter through their bond.

Azriel is left stunned for a moment at the images he’s being fed. Cassian pushes off the desk and sits opposite Azriel on the end of the bed.

“Well maybe she was holding out for another Illyrian.” Azriel teases him. “I hope you’re ready to deliver on that bet.”

Cassian scowles and then another memory is bursting through the bond. Cassian has Y/N’s thumb in his mouth, grazing his teeth along it before flicking it with his tongue. Her eyes are blown wide and her breaths are short and uneven.

Azriel growls then, pushes from his seat and is standing in front Cassian in two long strides.

“If you wanted to put something in your mouth baby, you should have just said so.” Azriel towers over him. He watches as Cassian runs his tongue along his bottom lip, Azriel can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, probably weighing up the risks of continuing to be a brat.

Azriel reaches out and grabs his chin firmly before he has time to decide.

“Be good, and open for me.” Azriel murmurs softly.

Cassian drops his mouth open into Azriel’s hand. Azriel strokes along his jaw with his thumb. His other hand reaches into his pants freeing himself.

He rests the head of his cock on Cassian’s awaiting tongue. The warmth of Cassian’s mouth immediately shoots through him and he can’t help the small groan he lets out.

Cassian sits with his jaw slack, looking up at Azriel with round innocent eyes.

“Please, don’t act like you don’t know what to do with it.” Azriel scoffs. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.” Azriel releases Cassian’s jaw and slides his hand to the top of Cassian’s neck.

Cassian’s lips wrap around him then, a calloused hand gripping along his base. Azriel moans as his tongue laps at the precum beading at his head. For a moment he loses himself to the warmth of Cassian’s mouth, letting his head fall back. His focus narrows in on the tightness of Cassian’s grip, on the way his tongue rolls around him.

“Think you can take all of me tonight baby?” He flicks his eyes down to Cassian's head, bobbing up and down his length. The only response he gets is a muffled groan that sends vibrations through his dick, Azriel bites his lip to stifle his moan.

He leans forward entering Cassian’s throat, slowly at first allowing him to adjust and pull back if he needs. But Cassian relaxes and takes every inch that Azriel gives him without complaint. Azriel moves a hand to the front of Cassian's throat, feeling the bulge of himself sliding deeper. He could come undone right then and there but he knows he has a task to do tonight. Knows he needs to smooth over the bruises to Cassian's oversized ego after your earlier rejection.

“Look at you Cass, no one else could take me like this.” Azriel murmurs. A tear breaks the corner of Cassian’s eye at the strain of taking his length. Azriel swipes out a thumb, smoothing it over. He starts rocking back and forth down Cassian’s throat.

“Keep those eyes on me, want to see how beautiful you are.” Cassian eyes flick up to Azriel through damp lashes. “Fuck you were made for me baby. Your body is perfect, your mouth, those hands, that ass are all for me.” He growls. In response Cassian tightens his throat around Azriel and that has him coming undone with a moan. He shoots white strands down Cassian’s throat and coats the inside of his mouth. Cassian laps at Azriel’s over sensitive head, cleaning every inch as he slowly pulls out.

Azriel leans down and kisses him deeply. He can taste himself on Cassian’s lips. He drops to his knees between Cassian’s legs and finally releases Cassian’s dick. He gives it a few quick pumps to relieve him of the building tension.

“Fuck, Az!” Cassian’s moan is scratchy, his voice wired out after having Azriel down his throat. And damn does that have Azriel’s dick throbbing again.

“Lay back, let me take care of you.” Azriel pushes gently on Cassian’s abs, but he needs no encouragement to fall back onto the sheets.

Azriel leans forward and runs his tongue from base to tip. He quickly works Cassian to the edge, he knows every nerve, has them mapped out in his mind and traces them with ease. When Cassian is bucking up into him, forcing him to relax his throat, to focus his breathing, he reaches up and strokes that place on the inside of Cassian’s warm leathery wings.

“Azriel!” Cassian cums through clenched teeth. Azriel is sure to suck him dry, before stuffing him back into his pants.

He rises and leans over Cassian, wings splayed.

“Now let’s see what that pretty mouth craves.” Azriel smirks. Cassian closes his hazel eyes, focusing. Racing down the bond, Azriel catches a montage of all the times Cassian has knelt before him. His own cock down Cassian’s throat or in his hands and Azriel’s heart pounds at how beautiful Cassian makes him look in his memories. Azriel crashes his lips into Cassian's, breaking the flow of images. He sends his own thoughts down the bond.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Cassian’s response is singular.

Mine.

————————————————————————

Two weeks later you're in the training ring with your favourite Illyrians. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a little extra swagger to your step these last weeks. You’d beat the boys at whatever game they had tried to play with you. Hadn’t let yourself be caught out by your little fantasies that they may have started suspecting. It gave your ego a much needed boost.

You refocused on the Shadowsinger just in time to block the blade that came swinging down at you.

“You’re distracted.” Azriel says straightening. “Do you need me to ask Cass to leave?”

You both look over to Cassian’s slumped form against the far wall. He was sitting shirtless, legs stretched out in front him. You’d all stripped down layers during the heat of training, it left the Illyrians shirtless and you down to a sweat soaked singlet. Your eyes followed sweat beads rolling over heaving muscles as he caught his breath.

“Please the only thing he could distract me with is his overinflated ego taking up too much space.” You wave your hand around gesturing to the air.

“Ha ha you’re both very funny.” Cassian says dryly. He picks up the towel next to him, pushes off the ground and walks out of the room without another word.

If you were being honest it wasn’t the general who was distracting you today but rather the Illyrian right in front of you. If Cassian relied on glowing looks and charm to win him affection then Azriel relied on broody arrogance and touch. From the moment he walked in this morning he’d been upon you. Small brushes of a calloused hand correcting your grip, taps to your side to widen your stance, a hand held out and gripped just a little too long as he helped you stand from a fall.

You returned to your combat. Making quick slashes forcing Azriel onto his back foot. But he was far more skilled than you were and you weren't stupid enough to think you’d won the upper hand. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for him to make his move when you felt the cool whisper against your skin. A dark shadow curls around your neck and slides along your collarbone. It’s quickly joined by another sliding around your ear. You don’t flinch. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. You respond with a thrust of your sword which he easily dodges with a small pivot. Before you have a chance to retract your arm a shadow curls around your wrist and squeezes.

Your breath stutters and then your cheeks flush, because you know how closely he monitors an opponent's breathing. Suddenly his leg swings out and catches the back of your knee. You drop your blade as you fall backwards trying to regain your footing but a muscular arm catches you before you hit the ground.

Azriel holds you up a foot from the ground like it’s nothing, grinning at you. And suddenly you realise maybe the game wasn’t over after all. Maybe Azriel, the cunning spymaster he is, was just lying in wait for the right opportunity to mess with you all this time.

“Cheater” you glare up at him.

“You should expect an opponent to use every tool in their arsenal” He chuckles softly.

He stands up, rightening you both but keeps an arm wrapped around you, a hand resting at the small of your back.

“I guess you need to resort to that if you’re worried you’ve lost your touch and were about to lose to little old me.” You grin wickedly, folding your arms across your chest.

You catch darkness flash across his features and then you see nothing at all as a shadow wraps itself over your eyes.

You drop your arms to your side, your body automatically preparing for a fight that isn't coming. You never feared Azriel, only left awed at what he was capable of. You feel a brush of air and then the fan of his breath on your neck as he leans in from behind you.

“Wait until you have to fight me blind sweetheart, no one’s ever walked away from that.” He whispers softly.

You work to calm your stuttering heart, with your vision gone you’re forced to focus on the sound of his voice and the movement of his body with a new found intensity.

“Even Cass?” You question, hoping to distract him from your compromised position.

“Ha, I guess Cass has come close.” He chuckles and allows the shadow to fall away from your face. He steps around in front of you again.

“Only Rhys has ever bested me in a fight of total darkness, but who would expect anything less from the High Lord of the Night Court.” He shrugs in acceptance.

“Well how about a heads up next time you bring shadows to a sword fight?” You bend down, scoop up your fallen sword and start to make your way to the weapons rack.

“Let me make it up to you, have drinks with me tonight?” He follows closely behind you.

“Like a date?” You ask. This was starting to drive you mad. Were they really so cruel as to torture you just for having a little crush. What you wouldn’t give to have either Illyrian be genuinely interested in you. Azriel had to be asking you out. If it was any other day it would just be a casual; Drinks tonight, you in? not the mystery riddled Have drinks with me tonight? in that low sultry tone of his.

“Why not?” He asks. You can feel him standing right behind you as you secure the training sword on the rack.

“I’m actually seeing someone, but thanks.” You parroted what you said to Cassian a couple of weeks ago. But it doesn’t have the same gusto, instead you can hear your own voice laced with defeat.

“Really? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’re lying.” He teases. Your back stiffens, you can sense that he’s still only a step behind you. Did he, did they, really think that no one could be genuinely interested in you? Of course he wasn’t wrong. It had been an age since your last real date but you hadn’t really made yourself available. Preferring to throw all your energy into your work, your training and your family.

You decided then you were going to do something that would probably be considered dangerous. But it was time you got back at Azriel for all the touches; from him, from his shadows, during training. You quickly turn around to face him before you lose your nerve.

“Sorry to burst your bubble then, obviously you're not the great spymaster you think you are.” You give him a smile and go to leave the training ring. As you step around him though, you intentionally don’t leave enough space, forcing your bare shoulder to brush against the warm leathery surface of his wing.

He growls, a low feral sound that rolls from deep in his chest and for a second you think you might not actually make it back into the house alive. You don’t stop walking though and you don’t look back as you head inside.

————————————————————————

The bedroom door slams back against the wall with a crack and Cassian freezes with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

“She should be fucking dead.” Azriel snarls as he strides into the room. Cassian wondered how it was going up in the training ring, had waited in Azriel’s room to find out and by the looks of the spymaster, not very well.

“Did she insult your shadows?” Cassian smirks, placing his bowl down and standing from the armchair. It wasn’t often that something or someone got Azriel this worked up. Cassian couldn’t wait to hear exactly what Y/N had said.

Azriel glares at him and then suddenly Y/N’s face is flashing down the bond. Cassian sees through Azriel’s memory how she secured her sword to the rack, turned and insulted Azriel’s skills as a Spymaster. Cassian chuckles, he’s going soft if he’s getting that worked up over that little comment. But then she brushes past him and he feels it like he’s actually there in the moment, she…

“Your wing?” Cassian stands gaping at him. Even though Y/N wasn’t Illyrian herself she knew how they were affected by their wings. She knew that outside of healing, and training to fly as a youngling, nobody touched an Illyrian’s wings except their most intimate partners.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Well she’s not afraid to break the rules is she.”

“I almost broke something.” Azriel grumbled.

“I’m surprised you didn’t retaliate, you could have had her pinned, cowering on the floor in two seconds.” Cassian shrugged.

“Slight problem.” Azriel grimaces and motions to his hips. Cassian can now make out the bulge straining Azriel’s leathers. He doesn’t let Cassian respond as he storms for the bathroom. “Shower. Now.”

Cassian follows him into the bathroom and leans against the door, watching Azriel’s back as he practically tears his clothes off.

“You better be undressed by the time I turn around.” He says over his shoulder. Cassian rolls his eyes but starts striping down. Y/N really managed to get him in a mood.

“Roll your eyes again and see what happens.” Azriel growls and then steps into the shower, steam already filling the small room.

Azriel likes to be in control. And as much as Cassian likes to push his buttons, to force him to let go sometimes, he can’t help the small thrill that runs through him at the thought of his mate in his most dominant state.

He steps into the shower and Azriel has him pinned to the wall in an instant. Azriel’s mouth is on his, then on his throat sucking and nibbling and then he drops to Cassian’s chest swirling his tongue around his nipple. Cassian lets out a soft moan and drops his head back against the wall. His hips make an unintentional thrust, silently begging for Azriel's mouth elsewhere.

Azriel straightens, sliding a hand up Cassian's chest and wrapping it around his throat.

You’ll be good for me, won’t you Cas? Azriel’s dark voice whispers through Cassian's mind. One hand still wrapped around his neck the other trails down the broad muscles of his abs and grips his cock.

You’ll let me take you. Let me fill you and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow?

For a second Cassian considers a snarky response but he sees the shadows swirling in Azriel’s eyes. He knows what Azriel wants from him. Not to be Cassian the battle worn warrior or Cassian the Illyrian General, but the Cassian who would drop to his knees and do anything for him. The Cassian that exists only for the Shadowsinger.

Yours Az. Cassian practically whimpers back. Always need you. Please.

Fuck Azriel’s barely touched him and he can hardly string a proper sentence together.

Good baby. Azriel practically purrs in his mind and then steps away from him. Instantly Cassian wants to reach for him, to feel Azriel’s body against his, but he resists.

Turn around, hands on the wall. Azriel commands him.

Cassian obeys. Placing both hands to the cool wall as warm water rushes down half his body.

He only just settles his stance when Azriel suddenly enters him with two fingers causing him to cry out in pleasure. He’s not given time to adjust as Azriel begins moving, stretching him.

That’s it, let me hear how much you like it baby.

Cassian bites his bottom lip attempting to stifle his moans. Azriel removes his fingers and Cassian whines at the loss of contact and starts to turn to face him.

I said hands on the wall. Azriel's sharp voice winds through his mind.

Cassian obeys, forcing his palms firmly into the wall and gritting his teeth. When it came to intimacy Azriel couldn’t be more different to Cassian. He was all about the pleasure of delayed gratification but Cassian wanted everything yesterday. He hears Azriel shifting behind him, he leans his forehead on the wall for balance as he drops a hand between his legs.

Hands. On. The. Wall. Azriel’s voice growls and Cassian quickly returns his hand.

Suddenly Azriel enters him in one swift motion, forcing Cassian’s hips to buck forward. He groans at the intrusion and tears prick at the corner of his eyes as Azriel begins quick thrusts.

Look at you. The Great Illyrian General becomes a whimpering mess when he’s getting fucked on my cock.

The instant fullness is almost too much, he feels his feet slip along the floor. But he’s surprised to find that Azriel isn’t there with a steadying hand. Now that he thinks of it, the only point of contact is Azriel’s length sliding in and out of him. He needs more, he always needs more.

“Oh god, please” Cassian moans “Please touch me, let me move.”

“It’s not the gods you should be begging to.” Azriel growls.

“Please Az…” Cassian begs. Azriel hasn’t paused his quick thrusts once and Cassian can barely string a sentence together. A dark chuckle enters Cassian's mind.

Oh no, what was it you said? “Now you get to cum untouched”. Memories from weeks ago flood his vision when he had Azriel flipped over on the bed. He should have known the bastard would take his revenge for that sooner or later.

When Azriel thrusts forward again he brings his body with him, forcing Cassian flat to the wall, trapping his wrists with his own hands. Cassian’s cock is aching for attention and being pressed between the wall and his body is enough to have him on the edge.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.” Azriel whispers into his ear and Cassian’s vision goes white with pleasure as he releases his load onto himself. Azriel is right behind him as Cassian’s ass squeezes him to his release. There’s a moment when the only sound is their heavy panting and then Azriel grips Cassian's shoulders and spins him around. Suddenly Azriel’s lips are on his.

So good baby, always so good for me. Azriel’s voice purrs in his mind.

For you Az. He replies. Too exhausted to open his eyes just yet. He feels a cloth being dragged along his front, cleaning him.

You’re okay? I didn’t hurt you? Concern and fear floods down the bond from Azriel. Even as one of their tamer love making sessions, Azriel is always worried he’s pushed too hard, taken things too far.

Give me some credit Az. He flicks his eyes open and meets the intense gaze of the shadowsinger. You know I’ll take whatever you give me. He lifts a hand to brush along the Illyrians' chin. And I’m more than okay.

————————————————————————

The next day Azriel has laid out his knife collection on the dining room table for polishing. You hate when he polishes weapons where they eat. He doesn’t want you to know how worked up he got about the wing incident yesterday and this is a perfectly indirect way of getting back at you. Of course Cassian is sitting at the end, swinging in his chair with his feet on the table, not wanting to miss a second of the inbound confrontation.

Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to alert him to your footfalls in the hall as you approach.

You let out a small huff and he smirks softly before raising his face to meet you.

“Good morning Y/N” Azriel greets you cheerily.

“Why are you polishing on the table again, Spymaster?” Your eyes narrow at him.

The use of his formal title spurs something inside of him. His retort is on the tip of his tongue when Mor waltzes in.

“Morning!” She announces to the room but strides to your side. “You ready to go?” She holds out a bent arm to you.

“Where are you going?” Azriel tilts his head slightly, caught off guard in his lack of knowledge. There was no indication until now that you had any plans today.

“You didn’t tell them?” Mor looks to you in surprise.

“It’s none of their business.” You smile softly at Mor but hope she catches the wicked glint in your eye that begs her to play along. Thankfully she doesn’t elaborate any further about today's plans.

“Well Windhaven awaits.” She offers you her arm once again and you take it. You both hurry from the room but not before you hear Azriel's quiet questioning,

“Windhaven?”

And the snap of Cassian’s chair returning to the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell them about visiting the female Illyrians?” Mor whispers as you descend the stairs of the House of Wind far enough to pass the wards that restrict winnowing.

“You know they’ll assume the worst, probably worse than the worst.” She giggles at the realisation.

“Good.” You exhale. “They’ve been getting on my last nerve, they deserve it.” You join in with her soft giggles before darkness consumes you both.

“Why is she going to Windhaven?” Azriel turns on Cassian.

“I don’t know you’re the Spymaster, you tell me.” He snaps back.

“I’ve not heard anything. Rhys hasn’t mentioned anything, surely he would send one of us if anything was required there.” Azriel stands and paces along the room.

“Then maybe she wasn’t sent.” Cassian slumps back in his chair and stares absently at the ground. Azriel freezes and spins on his heel.

“If she wasn’t sent, why would she go?” He slams scarred hands down on the dining table.

Cassian flicks his eyes up to Azriel, a look of defeat flashes across his face.

“She did say she was seeing someone.” Cassian murmurs and the room becomes frighteningly still.

“There’s absolutely no way she is seeing a fucking Illyrian.” Azriel stands to his full height, wings shooting wide as he stabs a finger at the doorway you had disappeared through.

Cassian stands and gestures down at himself. “Az, we’re Illyrians.”

“You know what I fucking mean Cass” He strides forward and grasps the war lords shoulders “These are our Windhaven Illyrians, theres no civilised courting, there’s barely civilised conversation. Whoever it is, is going to tear her apart.” He moves his right hand to rest on Cassian’s cheek, letting the panic show on his face and flow through the bond. They’re going to tear our Y/N apart.

Cassian's eyes widen in realisation and fear now flows freely from both ends of the bond. There’s no conversation then, just the scuff of knives being sheathed as they prepare to leave for Windhaven.

————————————————————————

You appear in the middle of the Illyrian war camp and immediately bundle your cloak closer. The wind and snow were so harsh here you don’t know how the Illyrians could stand it. Squinting against the wind you can make out the small cottage that was your refuge just down the path. You give Mor a small nod of thanks and hurry on your way.

Your task today was to try and convince more female Illyrians to step into the training ring. To convince them that even if their wings had been clipped, and they could no longer fly in the legions, it was still worth knowing how to defend themselves. Many of them across the camps were still concerned about backlash even though their High Lord had been personally seeing to anyone who went against his rulings.

You almost reach the corner of the building when you hear the jeers.

————————————————————————

Azriel winnows them onto a small rooftop of one of the dozen semi permanent buildings in Windhaven. They immediately spot Y/N hurrying down the road. They were only a few moments behind her and Mor, as they had the advantage of quickly flying through the ward barriers of the House of Wind before winnowing.

They duck low to remain out of sight and watch as Y/N almost makes it to the small cottage on the outskirts of the camp before the jeers ring out. A group of four Illyrians jostle each other as they make their way over to where she has halted.

Cassian clutches at the metal roof causing it to groan as a low growl rips from his throat.

“If they touch her I’ll carve their hearts out of their chests myself.” He snarls.

Azriel firmly grasps the back of Cassian’s leathers to stop him from taking off.

“Calm yourself, they might be who she is here to see.” Azriel hates that he has to admit it. But now that he is here, has eyes on her, he’s in his element. Lying in the shadows, watching, waiting, that was his forte. Unfortunately Cassian was more act first, ask questions later.

Y/N stands stiffly as laughs ring out from the group. She looks comfortable enough. Her arms relaxed at her side, a soft smile on her lips. But in a moment everything shifts. The male at the front of the group reaches for her and she twists, drawing a blade in the same moment.

Azriel releases his grip on Cassian and launches for the group drawing weapons at the end of the road. He doesn’t know if Cassian has even left the rooftop yet as his fist collides with a stubbled face.

————————————————————————

You twist around, shove a small blade into the side of the Illyrian who lunged at you and stomp a heel into the back of his knee, causing him to fall forward. You catch the blur of another pair of black wings and your heart freezes for a moment. Four young, barely trained Illyrians you had a chance against, but another larger Illyrian joining the fray slashed your chances drastically. You almost fall to your knees when the glint of blue sirens catches the sun. Azriel was here, you don’t know how, but he was here. Suddenly the Illyrian at your feet is ripped from the ground and tossed down the path. Cassian stands in his place.

He reaches tentatively to your face as his eyes scan you widely.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He growls. You blink at him in surprise before replying.

“No, I’m fine.” You confess as Azriel expertly takes down the Illyrians that have turned on him. Cassian’s red siren’s are flaring, his chest heaving in deep breaths and you recognise the panic in his eyes. The panic for you.

“Cassian. I’m okay. You’re here with me.” You reassure him. He begins to relax and gives you a short nod.

“CASS!” Azriel bellows as the last of the group charges directly towards you. Cassian shoves you back and takes the brunt of the hit. Sending both Illyrians crashing through the wall of the cabin.

Suddenly a loud crack rings out across the camp and you swear time slows ever so slightly as Rhysand steps out of the darkness. His deep violet eyes hold none of their usual sparkle. He takes only a moment to assess the situation and strides towards you. He gently takes up your hand like he’s done many times before and nods once to Azriel as darkness consumes your vision.

You land softly on the plush carpet of Rhysand’s study. Seconds later Azriel appears with Cassian.

“Care to explain why I’m about to pay for repairs in Windhaven?” The cool stare of the Night Court’s High Lord falls upon his Illyrian brothers.

Azriel’s wings flare in challenge but you step forward before he can get out his first word.

“Actually, that might be my fault. I got into a little… altercation with some of the Illyrian trainees.” You play down how dangerous the situation really could have become.

“Little?” Cassian questioned. “It was four against one, you were lucky we were there!”

“I had it under control!” You ball your hands into fists at your side. “And why were you even there?”

But it’s Rhysand who replies first. “You went alone?”

You lock eyes with him for a moment, before turning away. You didn’t feel like trying to explain how hurt you had been by Azriel and Cassian’s games lately, that you had just wanted to get a little space. It felt like they were laughing at your poor love life at every turn and just for a moment you wanted them to assume you may have had a suitor. Even in a place like Windhaven.

“You sent her?” Cassian takes a half step forward.

Rhysand’s eyes flick quickly between the three of you. “I need to get back, make an example of these trainees to assure this doesn’t happen again and repair yet another building.” His gaze settles on Cassian. “You three stay here until you figure this out.” He’s gone by the time you turn around.

————————————————————————

“What were you doing in Windhaven?” Azriel folds his arms across his broad chest and leans against the wall.

“Why were you tailing me?” You answer with a question of your own.

“We thought…” Cassian shifts his weight uneasily “We thought you might be meeting with someone who wasn’t… safe for you.”

“Safe for me?” You could feel your blood begin to boil. First the games, now they want to directly meddle in your love life too?

“They’re Illyrians Y/N! They don’t care about you! You're seriously delusional if you think anyone in that camp is worth your time!” Cassian furiously points back towards the mountains outside the study window.

“Right because Illyrian brutes are only good for fighting and fucking!” You throw back at him. Azriel narrows his eyes understanding the insult that was just thrown at them.

“That camp is full of dangerous males! They’d love nothing more than to discard of you when they’re done! If you’re seeing one of them, it's over.” Cassian growls and you see red.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see!” You storm towards him and jab a finger into his chest.

“So you are seeing one of them!” He steps back and throws his arms up. You turn on your heel, heading for the door ready to be done with this conversation for good.

“What does it concern you if I see an Illyrian?” You snarl as you head back towards the door.

“Because it’s not us!” Cassian chokes out and the room immediately stills.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cassian’s thoughts rush down the bond. The fear of his confession mingled with the fear that he’s messed things up with Azriel. That he’ll lose two of the most important people in his life in one fell swoop.

Never. Relax. Azriel tries to soothe him but his heart is also racing out of his chest. Cassian’s confession may as well have been his own. The reason he couldn’t stand to think of Y/N with an Illyrian, or any male for that matter, was because it wasn’t him.

“I’m done with these games.” Tears threaten to prick your eyes but you fight them back. Your heart feels like it’s shattering. You glance over your shoulder, afraid that tears will begin to fall if you turn to face them completely.

“Just because the two of you are happy together,” You see the surprise ripple through them “Doesn’t mean you get to mess with me for fun.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble but you lift your chin in defiance.

“I’m packing my stuff. I’m going to go stay with Mor for a bit, just… leave me alone.” You sign and reach for the door handle.

————————————————————————

As you begin to pull the door open Azriel can feel his heart crack and splinter. The pain and sadness that they have caused you struggles to consume his chest and he doesn’t fight it. He lets it wash over him.

“No.” he gasps, squeezing his eyes closed against the sharp pain that rips through him. As he blinks them open he notices Cassian has stumbled to Rhysands desk doubled over in pain. But when he looks across at you standing in the doorway he sees it. A golden thread splits away from you, towards them both. Glowing just as bright as the one that connects him to the Illyrian warrior.

You stand frozen and wide eyed across from him.

Y/N Azriel takes a tentative step forward, testing the connection down the bond. Cassian straightens but remains silent.

I don’t understand. You blink back and forth between them. You two are…

We are. We have been mates for centuries. Azriel explains as he moves closer.

We can’t lose her Az. I can’t… Cassian’s voice waivers in the back of his mind.

I know. Azriel agrees. You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to unravel this mess, unaware of their private conversation.

Sweetheart, we never meant to hurt you. We were competing for your attention for our own gain and I’m sorry. We never thought for a second that it was the chaffing of a mating bond. I never thought the Cauldron would find me worthy enough of a second bond, they are so rare. Especially with you. I’m so sorry Y/N. If you let me, us, we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Azriel confesses everything he has as he stands before you. He feels like he just placed his heart in the palm of your hand and is waiting for you to crush it between your fingers as you remain with your head down.

The Cauldron has blessed you with a mate after all… two mates. Males that you have been through so many ups and downs with during these last few years. And surely those years could trump the last few weeks of misunderstandings?

Okay. You lift your eyes to his as tears begin to spill over.

Azriel envelopes you first in his arms and then his wings. It wasn’t the confession he gave you but by the Mother he would take it. He meant what he said. He would do anything to mend what they had broken before they even knew they had it.

————————————————————————

Azriel winnowed you and Cassian back above the House of Wind. The three of you spent the rest of the day and evening discussing what had happened over the last couple of weeks. You confessed how you knew about their relationship. They confessed to their bet. They apologised over and over again. You confessed to catching on to their games early on.

“So you were never actually seeing anyone?”

“No, I haven't even been on a date since before the war.” You laugh and shake your head a little. A wave of jealously rolls down the bond and your eyes flick to meet Cassian’s.

You’d forgotten, for just a moment, about the mating bond. Well mating bonds. Lounging in the sitting room of the House of Wind with Cassian and Azriel felt like any other evening. The same usual banter flowed between you, but now when you took in their breathtaking smiles and low rumbling laughs there was no guilt to chase down your thoughts. You took in Cassian’s leathery wings stretched wide behind his low backed chair. You slide your eyes over his broad shoulders and the corded muscles of his exposed arms, landing on those Illyrian tattoos that you followed in the kitchen all those weeks ago, realising you might get the opportunity to finally follow their full trail across his skin.

Sweetheart Azriel shifts in his seat as his purring voice enters your mind. You might want to work on putting some shields in place. Your focus is pulled back then and you realise Cassian is gripping the armrests of his chair, his chest heaving in deep breaths, pupils blown wide with arousal as he pulls up the side of his mouth in a smirk.

Don’t listen to him baby. He’s just jealous. I was quite enjoying the appraisal. You blink in surprise as Cassian’s gruff voice enters your mind, startled to find that communication could flow openly between the three of you. That would be something you would have to delve into more later. Right now you could only focus on the Illyrian war lord across from you who had hunger rolling off him like a man who hadn’t eaten in months.

At Cassian’s words you realise you haven’t felt anything from Azriel’s side of the bond. Ever the cool, calm and collected one he was probably shielding everything from you right now and you found that it rubbed you the wrong way. You let your eyes fall on the Shadowsinger then, determined to have him drop his walls for you.

His deep black wings rise and fall behind him as he notices your attention. Your eyes trace along the top of his right wing until your attention falls to his throat, the way his adam's apple bobs has you swallowing dryly. You imagine placing your lips to the skin there and a shiver rolls through you. A shadow slides over his shoulder and curls low around his neck, almost vying for attention. You imagine what it would be like to not only have calloused hands pawing at you but smooth shadows as well and that’s when he snaps. His wall drops and his arousal twists and mingles with Cassian’s down the bond.

I thought you might be… opposed to my shadows in that scenario. He admits quietly. But having the bond so open you could easily read between the lines. He thought you might have been afraid of them. Of him.

You don’t scare me, Shadowsinger. You let admiration flow through the bond along with your words. In a blink of an eye Azriel is crowded over you, arms braced on the sides of your chair.

Really? He smirks down at you in challenge. It takes you one breath to recover from his sudden appearance, then you lean forward and place your lips to his neck in a featherlight kiss.

He groans and leans heavier into his arms.

Y/N we want to do this right. The normal way. Take you on those dates we asked you on. Cassian pleads with you. Interesting that when one loses their restraint the other finds it. You wonder if that's the bond at play or if that's just how Cassian and Azriel have always been.

Which part of this has been normal so far? You question as you send memories to both of them down the bond. Flashes of Cassian flirting in the kitchen and Azriel’s lingering touches during training. You also add some moments they’d never seen before; your lingering eyes catching on straining muscles as they spar shirtless in the training ring and the moment shadows led you to the sounds of them together, arousal shooting through you.

The world shifts beneath you then as Azriel lifts you from your chair. You wrap your legs around his waist and then his lips are on yours. There’s no delicacy to the kiss, it’s forceful, bruising, claiming. Soft sheets meet your back and you open your eyes to find Azriel has laid you down in his bed. His mouth moves to your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest before rising off the mattress. Shadows begin to swirl up your arms, replacing the touch of their master, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go for even a second. He turns to Cassian who has taken up residence leaning against the doorway.

“Nice of you to remember that I exist.” Cassian smirks at him. Any guilt you would have felt is quelled as you notice some of Azriel’s shadows linger around the Illyrians wrists and collarbone. Azriel strides across the room and grips the back of his neck.

“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Azriel whispers against his lips and kisses him. The kiss is gentle at first and you can’t help but feel the happiness that radiates from them. You’ve never seen them so open, relaxed and just… them.

Cassian is the first to push it further. Their lips still connected he shoves Azriel back into the room and kicks the door closed with his heel. There are hands in hair, gripping hips, mouths tugging on bottom lips and a soft whine escapes you as you watch your two favourite Illyrians devouring each other. Suddenly two pairs of dark eyes are on you.

Don’t worry baby, we haven't forgotten about you. Cassian's voice enters your mind as he moves towards the bed. He reaches back and pulls his shirt over his head, then climbs over you. He leans down and captures your mouth with his, taking his time to savour the moment. Then he spins, pulling you above him and props you up so you straddle his lap.

Wasn’t there some tracing you needed to do? He grins broadley up at you. You flush slightly at his reference to your errant imaginings but take in the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that wrap around thick muscles. You feel Cassian stiffen and then relax with a sigh as your tongue meets tanned skin. You trail across his shoulder, down his broad chest, pausing only to flick your tongue over a stiff nipple. He bucks up into you with a small moan. You continue down past chiselled abs as you move further down the bed finally reaching the line of muscle that disappears behind his waistband.

He watches you carefully as you begin to untie his pants. Finally you free him, curling your fingers around the velvet wrapped length. Suddenly a memory is forced into your vision. Cassian’s view in the kitchen, watching you devour strawberries dipped in cream. His focus is singular as he watches your tongue swipe up through the cream.

The room comes back to you and you smirk up at him laid back against the headboard before dipping your head down and running your tongue up the underside of him and flicking at his head.

Fuucckkk his moan reverberates in your mind as he throws his head back on the pillow. I’ve been imaging that for weeks and nothing even came close.

His reaction spurs you on and you get to work sucking him into your mouth, exploring with your tongue. You experiment with how deep you can take him and allow your hand to cover any part of the shaft that's not in your mouth. He continues to make small noises as the bed dips beside you. You look up to find Azriel already undressed, Cassian leaves your mouth with a small pop as your mouth falls open.

Oh please, he already knows he’s pretty. We’ll never hear the end of it now. Cassian teases.

Azriel leans forward and grips your chin gently forcing you to sit up.

As much as I was enjoying the show sweetheart, you are wearing far too many clothes. His hand trails down your front and rests at the hem of your shirt.

May I? He cocks his head in question. You nod silently, all words lost to you as your brain swims with arousal.

Words baby. Cassian props himself onto his elbows. There’s so much we want to do with you but we need to know you want it too.

Your eyes flick between Cassian and Azriel. Again surprised to find that Cassian was the one with more control. In the ring, on the battlefield, on a mission, it had always been the other way around. You pull your shirt over your head and reach back, releasing your bra, letting it fall into your lap.

I always thought actions spoke louder than words. You finally reply.

There’s my girl. Cassian reaches out, gripping around your hip, pulling you on top of him once again. And don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough why I’m left in control here. I don’t want to release Azriel onto you just yet. A shiver runs down your spine at the promise behind the words.

Azriel lets out a soft growl behind you as Cassian finds your lips. Suddenly there are hands everywhere. Cassian paws at your chest and rolls your nipple between his fingers, swallowing your moans in his mouth. Azriel positions himself behind you, quickly removing the rest of your clothes with a moan.

So fucking pretty. He runs a calloused hand up your inner thigh and you flush at the image he must be seeing of you bent over Cassian. His fingers run through your folds and settle on the bundle of nerves. You can only focus on not collapsing on top of Cassian under the assault of both Illyrians.

Azriel shuffles behind you and you feel his tongue flick against you and then swirl around you. He gently explores with his fingers, slipping a finger inside you as Cassian begins sucking marks on to your neck, your chest, anywhere his mouth can reach.

As quickly as Azriel’s tongue was on you, it vanishes and it's when Cassian knits his eyebrows together you realise, Azriel is using his mouth to pleasure you both.

While Cassian is briefly distracted you take the opportunity to return some of the marks to his own neck. Azriel then changes tactics and rubs Cassian’s head, slick with precum, against your clit as he adds another finger to the first, stretching you open as he pumps them in and out.

Please. You whine, already so close to the edge. Need you.

Azriel wastes no time as he sits up and lines Cassian up with your entrance. You slowly sink backwards feelling Cassian stretch you open until you sit flush over his hips.

Ride me baby girl, I’m all yours. Cassian purrs and you begin to bounce on top of him. Soft moans escape his lips as you move and you feel like you're glowing from your ability to bring him so much pleasure.

You lean over him, deepening the angle when the room darkens. Azriel leans over you both and whispers in your ear.

“Do you trust me?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Yes” You moan as Cassian slides deep into you again.

Azriel grips your hips and stops your movement as Cassian's length slides out of you, his head hovering at your entrance. Azriel enters you with a snap of his hips. You were glad you were stretched already as you take his large thick length in one quick thrust. He pulls out still holding you steady as he allows Cassian to buck up and enter you again.

They find a rhythm so quickly that you think must only come from being connected for so many centuries. You moan and whimper into the space between Cassian’s shoulder and neck. It feels like there isn’t a moment when you aren’t filled by either of them as they both fuck you hard and fast.

Cassian reaches up and pulls you away from his body so you hover above him.

Want to hear you baby. Want to see you as we make you fall apart. Come for me Y/N.

Your body obeys without you even thinking as you clench around them as they continue to enter you over and over again. When you’ve ridden your high, Azriel backs away enough for Cassian to pump into you a few more times before finishing himself, seated deep inside you.

There’s a few moments to catch your breath as you sit up and then Azriel is back, one hand your hip the other softly wrapping around your neck.

Do you have another one for us sweetheart? For me? The deep rumble of his voice raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

Always. You whimper as his hands trace circles across your sensitive skin. He pulls you off Cassian and leans you back against his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He lifts you to enter you from behind again-

No Azriel freezes as soon as the thought enters your mind. You panic realising he thinks you want him to stop. No, Azriel. You lean your head back on his shoulder to meet his eyes. I want to see you, want to touch you.

Azriel’s eyes soften and he lays you on the bed next to Cassian.

Both so pretty. He murmurs as he lines himself up with you, appreciating the view of you and Cassian laid out before him. And mine. A darkness swirls in his eyes at the claiming and a thrill runs through you. Cassian trails his fingers up your thigh as Azriel enters you.

His thrusts are quick and hard. You let your hands explore up his stomach, across his chest and down his arms as sets an unrelenting pace. It isn’t long before you’re on the edge again but Azriel doesn’t give any indication that he’s anywhere near finished with you.

You drove him near mad that day after training. Cassian whispers into your mind. He’s sensitive to touch, I’ll show you where it affects him the most.

Cassian settles in the back of your mind then and gently instructs you to reach out for his wings. You do as he says and brush a hand along the inside of the warm membrane. A growl rumbles through Azriels chest as he tips his head back. You continue to follow Cassian’s detailed instructions learning the places that pull moans from Azriel’s lips.

A few moments later, Azriel is practically panting above you, pupils blown wide as his hips continue to snap into you. You feel your own tension building alongside his own.

Go with him, baby girl. Cassian purrs as he reaches down and presses firmly on your over sensitive clit. You see white behind your eyes as you finish for the second time tonight.

————————————————————————

You're curled between two Illyrian bodies as only the sounds of soft breathing fill the air. You’ve never felt more safe or more satisfied for that matter. You wonder how things are going to be from now on. Whether your bond will remain a secret like theirs has. Laying on your side, you take in Azriel’s sleeping form and wonder what Cassian meant about ‘releasing Azriel’ onto you. Your pulse quickens, imagining all the things the three of you could get up to together. Cassian’s hand tightens on your hip from behind you as Azriel blinks open his eyes. You flush, clearly they weren’t as asleep as you thought.

Cassian leans in to whisper at your ear.

“Firstly, I’m glad you feel both safe and satisfied because that’s what we’re here for.” His nose brushes along your neck. “Secondly, we’ll figure out the bond together. Nothing will be decided without you.”

Azriel leans forward and whispers against your lips. “Thirdly, you’ll learn soon enough what happens when I get to play my way.” He kisses you softly and Cassian trails kisses down your spine. You know for certain the first thing you're going to do is learn how to block these two from your mind.

[nyrasproblm]

Jealousy, jealousy

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Rhaenyra feels jealous of her lover.

Word Count: 0,4K

Warnings: mentions of homophobia.

note: this story was posted before my blog was deleted and is also available on AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Rhaenyra watched with purple eagle eyes as you chatted and laughed with the young ladies of the court, you were surrounded by them all day long. She walked back to her quarters and waited for you to come to her like every night. She watched you come out from behind one of the heavy tapestries in her chambers, where there was one of the secret passages.

"Finally, I thought you would be surrounded by women all night." she said coldly, watching you walk over and sit down on the velvet upholstered chair next to her.

"Pardon?" you said and ran your hands up the skirt of your dress.

"I saw you surrounded by the new court girls, you weaved through them with great delight, you love it all, don't you?" she spat.

"Ah, Queen Alicent's new ladies-in-waiting, they are like seeds that have just sprouted." you said in a velvety voice.

"You like the younger ones, don't you?" she said, twirling the golden rings on her long, thin fingers.

"Maybe I can sleep with one or two." you let out a giggle. "They seem open to such a thing."

"You will do no such thing." she said, looking increasingly uneasy. "Have you forgotten who you are and your position here? You would be killed if they knew you were sleeping with women."

She was right, for sure, but you loved watching how Rhaenyra became more and more jealous of you as the years went by. You entered the court on the recommendation of your father, who was previously a member of King Viserys' council, to become the princess's lady-in-waiting. Open doors you were her lady-in-waiting, but when they were closed you were her lover, her favorite in all matters, her only one.

The two of you didn't sleep exclusively with each other, but Rhaenyra slept with Harwin to have heirs, you slept with others for pleasure, and that bothered her a lot. Since she began to disagree with Alicent, the queen began to require your presence more frequently. To talk about women's matters with her own ladies-in-waiting, she said, but you knew it was to irritate your beloved princess.

"I know I have no importance at court, princess, you don't need to remind me of that." you sighed and leaned into her. "I miss you."

You stood up and took her by the hand, making her stand up too, brushing aside her platinum hair and burying your nose in her soft neck. You gave soft kisses and raised your mouth to her chin, feeling her sigh softly.

"Do you still want me?" you asked softly.

"You're mine and I'm yours, no matter what." she said, reaching for the ties on her dress and starting to undo it.

[jakedustry]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

popular!riki x fem!reader

in which after many of your protests, your friends manage to convince you to go to your school prom, reminding you you don't need a date to have fun, and you even believe them for a second – until you are left alone at your table, with no one to talk to. Fortunately, your close friend shows up right in time to show you prom can be funny after all.

wc 2.8k

warnings none (me thinks) except for kissing

↪ izzy adds... I wrote this a year ago on my wattpad account but thought it would be nice to bring some riki fluff on my tumblr too :)) This is only vaguely proofread!

“I don’t want to go,” you whined, grabbing a hair tie from your table before turning to face the group of girls sprawled on your bed again. “I am serious. First of all, I don’t have anyone to go with, and second of all, I don’t have a dress either,” you explained your reasons when you notice the looks on your friends’ faces. 

“But you have to go! Prom is so much fun!” One of the girls exclaimed, ready to argue with you. “It might have been fun if someone asked me to be their prom date,” you mumble, sighing. “Or if you guys were still in school. I don’t want to go alone!” You complained. 

Honestly, you didn’t care much about not being asked out for prom. What bothered you more was that none of your friends would be there with you. You were the youngest in your friend group, and with all the girls being a grade above you, it meant there was no one you could talk to. 

“People are blind. I don’t get why no one asked you out.” 

“It’s whatever. I am not going anyway,” you repeated, sitting on your bed between the two eldest. “Everything got far worse after you left. The girls in my class keep laughing at anyone who breathes. I don’t need them making fun of me because I don’t have a date.” 

“You don’t need a date! You can go alone and dance with whoever you want! I swear prom is super fun!” Your friend kept trying to convince you. “And I already finished your dress,” your best friend joined the conversation, making all of you look at her. “What? Really?” Your eyes widened. 

She had decided to study fashion design after finishing high school, and she had been promising you she would make a dress for you since the first semester started, but you knew she was busy, so you never paid much attention to it, thinking she wouldn’t have time for it. 

“Why haven’t you shown us earlier?!” 

Your best friend unlocked her phone, scrolling through her gallery to find a picture. “I thought I told you about it before. And I wanted to bring it tomorrow to see if it needs fixing,” she shrugged. “Here it is,” she turned her phone towards you so you could see first, showing it to the rest of the group afterward. 

It was a long midnight blue v-neck piece with a fitted bodice and a sweeping skirt, and you absolutely loved it. Even though you always preferred pants and shorts over a dress or skirt, you could see how much work she had put into making it for you. Seeing the dress made you feel a sudden wave of excitement. You wanted to wear it as soon as possible. 

“You are so good!” The oldest gasped. “It’s nothing,” your best friend chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. You knew she was proud of her work, too. “It really does look gorgeous, though,” you assured her, still in awe. 

“Well, now you just have to go.” You sighed, “Alright, I’ll go, but you guys have to promise we’ll get an ice cream and sleep over at mine after it.” The girls grinned, agreeing immediately. 

♡⸝⸝ 

You looked into the mirror again, fixing your hair with a smile. Even though you didn’t feel super excited to go out alone, you must admit, you felt pretty tonight. The dress your best friend designed fit you perfectly, and once you put your hair up and let her do your makeup, you found yourself looking forward to the dance more. 

“You look stunning,” your best friend assured you, her smile so genuine she might also make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. “Should we go?” She asked, offering you her arm. You giggled, wrapping your hand around her arm and leaving your room with her. 

“No boy will be able to resist you tonight.” You couldn’t hide your smile as you heard your best friend, your confidence slowly building up. You nodded, following her to her car. 

Your confidence, however, dropped down again as you ended up alone at your table, staying the only one not dancing. 

You ended up sitting at a table in the far corner with a few of your classmates, looking around the place as soon as you sat down. You must say, they did a great job with the decoration. “I am going to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?” One of the girls asked, putting her handbag on her chair and looking around the table. One of her friends stood up, too, saying she would go with her when their other friends asked for drinks.

You just watched them, not saying anything. They weren’t your friends. Honestly, you barely knew them, so you didn't want to bother them with getting you a drink. It felt awkward sitting there with them, but there was nothing you could do. It wasn't like it would feel any less uncomfortable at the other tables. 

Half an hour later, the dance floor was already occupied, with almost no space for any more pairs. You saw a few of your classmates here and there dancing or sitting at their tables and talking to their friends, but you didn't dare to walk up to any of them. 

So you ended up sitting alone at your table, watching everyone else enjoy themself while you had nothing to do. You knew you shouldn't expect much when you didn't have a date, but you got your hopes up when you talked to your best friend, and now it made you regret coming here after all. 

You shifted in your place, staring at the almost empty glass of coke you got earlier. Playing with your straw, your thoughts drifted away to your friends again. To your actual friends, not just your classmates. You remembered how your best friend would laugh at the stupidest things whenever she was around you and how the eldest in your friend group would always talk about her boyfriend, to the point it annoyed all of you. 

You sighed, closing your eyes for a quick second so tears wouldn't fall down your cheeks. You just wanted to be with them.

“How come you are here alone?” You opened your eyes upon hearing the familiar voice, quickly blinking to make all the possible tears disappear before they could even show up. “I thought I was too late,” he mumbled so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost. 

“It’s weird that none of the guys here asked you for a dance yet. They are missing out,” he grinned, sitting on a chair beside you. “How long did it take you to learn those lines, Riki? Do you go around asking every girl?” You teased him but couldn’t hide a smile. 

You watched him, taking a proper look at what he was wearing. All the boys had a specific dress code: formal pants and a button-down. A vest or a suit jacket were optional, so most of them weren’t wearing them. But he was. He had a black vest on his white button-down, and you could swear he looked better than ever before. It was somehow attractive seeing a man wear a vest even though he didn't have to.

You knew he was attractive. You would be a fool to deny it when all the girls in your grade and the grade under you had a crush on him at one point. But still, it felt as if your eyes had opened only now. 

“Now seriously. Why did you reject everyone? I thought you wanted to dance tonight,” he questioned, looking around the place. You shrugged, looking the same way he was, “No one asked me yet. I didn’t get the chance to reject anyone.” 

You had met Nishimura Riki last year for the first time. You were running through the school hallway late in the afternoon, being one of the last students still in school. Lessons ended more than an hour ago and you had lost track of time while studying in the school library. It was a pure fate that the two of you met, really. You weren’t planning on stopping. If anything, you almost sped up to get out of school as soon as possible to catch your bus, but you ended up slowing down instead when you heard your favorite song coming from one of the classrooms. 

You glanced inside, wondering who was stupid enough like you to be still hanging out in school at this hour. That was when you saw him dancing in the middle of an empty classroom to your favorite song. Back then, he obviously had no idea it was your favorite song, and you had no idea it was one of his, too. 

He noticed you standing at the door and froze, a sudden wave of embarrassment brushing over him. He turned the music off immediately, watching you apologize for interrupting. You felt as embarrassed as he did but didn’t move right away. You lingered in the silence, keeping eye contact with him until you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. You apologized again, running off before he could say anything. It was a chaotic first meeting, but you still managed to get stuck in his head. 

You didn’t have a proper conversation with him that day or any of the days prior, but you started greeting each other in the hallways since then, exchanging small smiles or glances from across the room. 

It went like so for weeks, with neither of you walking up to each other to actually say something. You didn’t know his name, and you assumed he didn’t know yours either, but you still found yourself looking forward to seeing him between your classes. 

And not so long after, when your best friend wanted to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friends, you finally got to hear his name. You stuck together with Riki most of the afternoon, only exchanging a few words with his other friends. It was Riki who your eyes landed on, unable to look away as you found yourself getting lost in your conversation. 

You considered him your close friend since. 

Riki looked back at you, confused if you were telling the truth or joking. “No one asked you for a dance?” You shook your head at his question, looking down at your glass again. “I swear everyone is blind,” he shook his head in disappointment. “You look amazing today,” he assured you. “You look amazing all the time, actually,” he mumbled, making your cheeks turn pink. “Thank you,” you muttered shyly. 

He hesitated for a second, encouraging himself before he stood up. “Do you want to dance?” Your name rolled on his tongue so easily, as if he had said it a million times before. You smiled, looking up at him again. His hand was reached towards you, and he averted eye contact. For the first time in the year you knew him, you saw him without his usual confidence, and it might have been making you more nervous than him. Everything about him tonight made you nervous. The way he stood, talked, and dressed. It all made you weak in the knees. 

You carefully took his hand, already worried your hand was sweating. He looked you in the eyes again, holding your hand properly as he took you from the table. The current song was ending, but he still had the next one and hopefully a few songs after that, too. 

Riki awkwardly waited for the song to end before looking at you again as he heard the last line. “We are going to kill the next song,” he proclaimed, making you giggle. 

“How about something slower for our pairs this time?” His eyes widened, terrified, as he looked at the DJ. Everyone cheered for him, but Riki couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t sure what you would think about dancing with him to a slow song. 

He glanced your way again, his eyes scanning your face and trying to see if you were still up for a dance. You looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out the same thing. Eventually, you decided to take the first step and put your hands on his shoulders. He stepped forward, making it easier for you to reach him before he placed his hands on your waist, a sheepish smile on his lips as he looked at you with nothing but love. 

It wasn’t a secret to many – actually, he was pretty sure everyone except for you knew – that he had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. Since he saw you in the hallway, with your hair tucked behind your ear, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it has been getting worse and worse ever since. And seeing you so close now, trying to keep eye contact with him even though your cheeks were getting hotter the more you looked at him, only made him love you more. 

“We can’t really kill this dance,” you mumbled with a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere so it wouldn't get awkward. He chuckled, nodding before he leaned down to you, stopping once his lips reached your ear. “But we can be the best-looking pair.” His words sent shivers down your spine, making your cheeks turn redder than ever before. You stepped closer again, laying your head on his chest so you wouldn't need to look him in the eyes. 

You nodded, slightly squeezing his shoulders. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “For dancing with me tonight.” You looked up for a second, assuring yourself he heard you. You had underestimated his visuals, you realized. Now that you were standing so close to him, your bodies touching, seeing him bite his bottom lip at what you said in the purple lighting above the dance floor has made you go crazy. 

You felt girls looking at you, trying to murder you with their stares, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t even think about them when you had a handsome boy right in front of you. Especially when you knew his eyes were on you only. 

Your eyes widened in question when you heard your name leave his lips, questioning what he needed. He hesitated for a moment before moving his right hand from your waist to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger. You were too pretty for him to be able to think straight, no matter how much he tried. “Please don’t kick me for this,” he whispered, leaning down again, this time connecting his lips with yours. 

You moved your hand to the back of his neck when you felt his lips on your, pulling him closer to yourself. You were both aware of people staring your way, whispering about god knows what, but you couldn’t care less. This was your moment. 

Riki grabbed your hand again, exchanging one look with you before he took you from the dance floor, rushing to the main hall outside where you all left your jackets before. You didn’t question anything and followed him, keeping your eyes on your intertwined hands. “My things are still in there,” you reminded him, having no idea where he was heading. He didn't answer anything, though, not looking back for even a split second. 

As he stopped in the middle of the hallway, finally looking at you again, you realized he was looking for a quieter place without so many people around. Honestly, you didn’t care where you were. He could take you anywhere, and you would go with him. Because all you could think about at the moment were his lips. 

“I’d kiss you again if your lips weren’t so high up,” you mumbled, creating a grin on his face. He pulled you closer again, leaning down so you could do as you wished. “I thought we were just friends,” he whispered against your lips, making you shiver once again. The look in his eyes, combined with his deep voice would be the death of you soon. You were sure of it. 

“You kissed me first,” you reminded him, breathing on his lips so he could get a taste of his own medicine. “So maybe we aren’t really just friends, pretty boy.” 

“Definitely,” he agreed, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you again, this time with more passion, making sure you could feel every last bit of his love on your lips.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

[verinarin]

Two can play that game.

Rafayel thought he could just leave marks on you and toy with your breast without any consequences, well he's sorely wrong. Two can play that game, sweetie~

[nsfw] biting kink, marking, nipple play, breast play, slight grinding, switch!rafayel, switch!reader

Your neck stings against the cold air; the red-bitten skin is now soothed by the gentle kisses of your rather demanding lover, Rafayel. Within each gentle peck, he whispers sweet nothings against the poor skin. 

“Too pretty not to mark,” he smiles against a purple hickey decorating your neck. “It hurts y’know!” you pout at him, he merely squeezes your waist at the sentiment.

“Is it now?” he pauses his kisses, he’s now moving down towards the swell of your breast. “But I have been kissing the boo-boos away haven’t I?”

“I don’t need you to bite my chest too!” you could sense where this is going, you know Rafayel by the back of your hand at this point.

“Too late, princess,” he muses before sucking a mark on the soft flesh. You could feel his moans against your skin, his teeth are now bared against your skin; leaving a bite mark for you to admire the next day.

“You’re such a brat,” you hiss at your lover, he’s too occupied by the delicacy that is your breast. His hand now finds its way to cup your breast, his lips inching closer and closer toward your areola, kissing the sensitive skin gently before he continues with his onslaught. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he mumbles before latching his mouth to your erect nipple, a soft mewl escapes your lips as he sucks on the sensitive bud.

His fingers tugging on the other nipple so it doesn’t feel ignored. While you also tug on his hair, highs clenching against his own as you sit there on his lap.  

“So sweet, I’m addicted miss…” his voice muffled by your soft mounds as he speaks, looking up towards you with those doe eyes you can’t take your eyes from.

You can’t even form a sentence since his tongue flicks against your nipple, he lets out such vulgar panting noises while keeping his eyes glued to your expression. Your pleasure is his own pleasure at the end of the day.

For every beautiful moan, you grace his ear with, his cock grows harder and harder by the second. Aching to be touched and loved by you, he aches for you in more ways than one. Sucking on your breast and marking your skin is an example of him showing you his carnal needs.

Now he’s playing rough, his teeth tugging on your nipple, you could feel his lips forming into a smile against your skin. Such a brat, and he’s yours to tame and punish. He lavishes your now sore nipple with kitten licks.

“Not enough?” you whimper while his finger teasingly flicks against your slippery wet nipple. “Never enough,” he corrects your statement, he could never have you only once. 

He presses a kiss now onto your sternum, he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. It’s strong and steady, and as rapid as his own. After taking his time licking a long stripe across your sternum, he ventures towards the other side, blowing warm cold air against the sensitive bud.

Watching you whine and trash around on his lap, grinding your sticky panties right against his boxers. “More, I need more,” he whispers, before latching his mouth back towards one of his favorite desserts. 

He grinds your clothed pussy against his cock, his tongue savoring the feeling of your nipple against it. So firm and squish, such a delicate thing to suck. You can’t take it anymore, the sheer pleasure almost dulls your senses but not your mind.

“Two can play that game,” you pant before pushing him down to the bed. “My turn,” you lick your lips before pinching both of his nipples.

“Miss…” he moans, not even bothering to hold back as you roll your thumb against nipples while pressing open-mouthed kisses on his neck. Then venturing down to his sternum, doing the same thing he did to you earlier. “You need a taste of your own medicine, baby,” you smile innocently.

You then open your mouth wide, letting your saliva drench his cute perky nipples. He hiss at the sudden coldness, “Oh god…” he pants as you lather both of his nipples with your saliva.

“Feels cold huh?” you tease, your fingers now twisting his well-lubricated nipple. “Mhmmm feels cold and so good, cutie” he smiles, closing his eyes to fully immerse himself in your touch.

“Can I use my mouth?” you ask softly while pressing kisses all over his pecks. “Please use your mouth,” you chuckle at his neediness. He’s so spoiled, but then again you love spoiling him.

“Alright then,” you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear before pressing your lips against his nipple, sucking at the perky little thing gently while the other gains a more rough treatment from your fingers.

“Baby that feels so good, need more,” he whines, his grasp tightening around your waist as he grinds you back against his cock. “Patience,” you pinch his nipple in annoyance.

“F-fuckkk okay okay, no need to be mean,” he pouts, “Oh I’m sorry,” you decide to humor him by kissing the other nipple you pinched. 

“Better?” you ask as you look up towards his teary eyes, “The other one wants a kiss too,” he pouts, of course, he wants both of his nipples to be equally treated. “Whatever you want Rafayel,”

You return to the other nipple kissing it gently before tugging on it with your teeth, he bucked his hips upwards at the sudden pain. “That feels so good, you make me feel so good,”

“I know I do,” you hum before flicking the tip of your tongue against his other nipple while having the other one fondled by you. You squeeze hard on his firm pecs, the width of it is wider than your palm, but you still manage to grasp a good grip on it.

“You have such a nice pair of tits, Rafayel,” you tease as you squeeze even harder. “Your mouth’s so naughty, be careful cutie,” he pants, relishing on the euphoric feeling of being groped by you.

“But it’s true, so pretty and firm,” you continue to tease while biting on his nipple before pulling your head up to see him. Gosh, he’s so cute. “You’re the one to talk,” he groans as he reaches forward to grope your breast.

“These are prettier, much softer than mine,” he pants as he squeezes on your breast. “I’m sure it is, you like my tits, Rafayel?” you ask.

“Of course I do, I get all hot and bothered when you dress in tight clothes. I couldn’t help but stare sometimes,” he confesses, his fingers tugging on your nipple with each syllable he speaks.

“Well aren’t you a pervert,” you whine as he pinches your nipple at the sentiment. “Is there a problem if I am?”

“Nope none at all,” you moan, feeling the sudden shift in dynamic. “Good to know, cutie,” he smirks as he pulls you back to his arm. 

“We’re not done y’know, I still need you to take care of me,” he pouts, he slaps his palm right onto your ass as he grinds your pussy, signaling where he needs it the most. 

“You’re so demanding,” you whine, feeling your nipple rub against his. It feels so fucking good. “And you love to spoil me,” he smiles before sealing the deal with a kiss. It’s going to be a long night for you both….

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Bare with me this is my first request. Imagine reader (Slytherin if you don't mind) is walking and bumps into the boys they try to pick on her but can't and ends up with her making a joke about Mattheo having a small penis, and he loves that she's able to shut him up even tho it's childish. Long story short he's like "It's not even small" and she's like "Prove it" and so hate sex.

Drink water, take a nap and overall take care ilysm! ✨

Thank you so much! I have been taking care of myself, I hope you all are too!

Brat

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: cussing, oral(male receiving), unprotected sex, hate sex, brat taming lol

18+ Minors DNI!

“So you wanna repeat what you said earlier? What was it? ‘Tiny, limp-dick ass’?” Mattheo said as he had your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fucking into your mouth. You were in the prefect's bathroom, your knees digging into the hard tile as you held onto his thighs. “Won't repeat it now, slut?” He smiled down at you, and you moaned around his dick, trying to respond back. He pulled you off his cock. “What was that, princess?”

“You are such a dick. Also a pervert, getting off on me talking shit.” You said, wiping the spit off from your mouth.

“You got it all wrong, angel.” He said before pushing your mouth back onto his cock. “I like putting brats in their place. Since you wanna use your mouth to insult me, I'm putting it to better use.” You tried replying, but gagged on his cock instead. He pulled you off again to let you speak.

“Bite me.”

“Gladly.” He smiled and pulled you up to stand, not even hesitating before biting your neck.

“I fucking hate you.” You winced at the harsh bite, which he soothed with a swipe of his tongue.

“Do you, now? If I checked, your pussy wouldn't be all wet then?” He said before biting your neck again.

“Shut the fuck up.” You closed your eyes, your breath getting heavier.

“All bark, no bite, love.” He teased and turned you around, pushing your front onto the sink.

“You're lucky I didn't bite your dick.” You rolled your eyes.

“I knew you wouldn't. You want me to fuck you. Can't do that if you bite my dick, huh?” He said as he pulled down your panties. “I knew it. Fuck. You're all wet for me.” He dragged a finger through your folds.

“Can you shut up and fuck me already?” You whined, hips jolting at his touch.

“Can you quit whining?” He retorted but did start pushing into you. “Fucking tight, shit, princess.” He moaned with you. He didn't wait for you to adjust, thrusting in and out of you as you whimpered from the mix of pain and pleasure. “Can you fucking relax? You're squeezing me, you fucking slut.”

“You didn't prep me, dickwad.” You hissed.

“Always so bratty. Can't you just be grateful for what I give you?” He grabbed your hair to look in the mirror at him. “Just be good for once.”

“If it bothers you that much, I'll keep being a brat.” You said, closing your eyes so you don't look at him.

“If that's how you wanna play it.” He let go of your hair and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing the sides. “Might take a few sessions, but I'll break you.”

It was hard to reply with him choking you. Your eyes were rolling back as you felt lightheaded from it, only making the pleasure from him fucking you more intense.

“See, isn't that much better than fighting me? Just relax and cum on my cock, princess.” He said, bringing his free hand to your clit.

“Fuck.” You choked out, body trembling as your orgasm neared.

“Merlin, fuck, you're clenching me again. You're so close, angel. Just let go. Need to feel you cum.” He moaned, his thrusts losing its tempo as his own orgasm was close. “Cum on my cock like a good slut, come on.”

Your orgasm hit you and your legs nearly gave out as you cried out. He fucked you through it before pulling out and cumming on your ass and skirt.

“See, you can be a good girl for me?” He said, pressing a kiss to your hair before pulling your panties up.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

Let me know if you wanna be added!