#but i’m just so. not thrilled about it.

[kiszjuli]

YOU WIN .ᐟ

✸ varsity!jaemin x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c. 2.1k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which jaemin has been pining after you and makes you a deal. if he wins the valentine’s day basketball game, you have to go out with him. you agreed, but you knew you didn’t like him like that. at least that’s what’s you’ve been telling yourself.

↳ playlist. pov - ariana grande. universe (let’s play ball) - nct dream. i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys call me baby - exo. talk saxy - riize. adore you - harry styles.

the large, crowed gym boomed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the faint echo of chatter and commentary bouncing off the walls. valentine’s day was tomorrow, and with it came the school’s annual basketball game—a game everyone seemed to love, whether it was purely for the game itself, or the romance that seemed to come with it. for you, though, it was just another day behind the camera, documenting the campus chaos for the yearbook.

through your camera, you’d captured just about everything this year: pep rallies, club meetings, quiet moments in the library, and even pictures of people doing the simplest things. and of course, na jaemin. somehow, he was everywhere. whether he was on the court, joking with friends, or flashing a charming grin at you, jaemin had an uncanny ability to find your camera—and you hated how often you found yourself keeping the photos he was in.

you’d spent the last semester convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything. he was just one of the many faces in the crowd, one of the players you documented out of habit. but jaemin thought very different.

about a week ago, he’d found you crouched on the sidelines during practice. you fiddled with your lens, as he walks up and proposed his idea to you. “if i win the valentine’s day game,” he’d said, leaning casually against the bleachers, and looking down at you, “you have to go out with me.”

at that, you almost dropped your camera. “what?”

“come on, pretty girl, you heard me.” his grin had been infuriating, as always. before you could think to respond, he added, “i’m. a deal’s a deal.”

“and if you don’t?” you piped.

"i don't always win, but i promise you i will this time.” he responded with a confident tone.

the idea was ridiculous. you clearly didn’t even like jaemin like that—or at least, that’s what you’d been trying to convince yourself of.

although you found your heart beating a little quicker when he was around, eyes lighting up a bit when he walked in the same room, laughing slightly harder at his jokes-it was all meaningless. right?

so, motivated by your persistence to prove your subconscious wrong, you’d agreed and now, as the stands filled quickly with students, and your camera in your lap, you glanced around not being able to shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to end you you expected.

—

despite yourself, because of the infectious crowd, you felt the pre-game thrill in your chest. you adjusted some things on your camera, getting it ready for when you needed it. aiming it in front of you you changed some of the setting, while looking through the lens. then you had noticed that he was directly in the middle; staring your way. you lowered the camera, looking at him straight on. that stupid smirk and casually spun a basketball in his middle finger. show off. his coach called the team for a quick team talk, and of course he didn’t leave without throwing a wink at you.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes but couldn’t deny the small flutter you felt in your stomach.

the gym fell to a hush as the referee walked to the middle of the court, the basketball in hand. both teams on either of his sides, waiting in anticipation. you got your camera ready for the shot, eyes trained on the scene in front of you, but you felt the weight of someone else’s gaze.

jaemin.

he stood at the center, opposite the other team’s strongest member, his attitude relaxed but ready. something about his calm and confident demeanor told you that he already knew how the game would end. like he was playing with certainty, and not hope.

seconds later, the whistle blew, the ball was thrown into the air.

jaemin reacted instantly, leaping towards it. his body stretched effortlessly to the ball, fingers grazing it first—the perfect tip-off. just like that the gym erupted in cheers and the game begun.

from behind the camera, you followed the motions of the players. shoes squeaked against the polished wood, the sharp bounce of the ball echoed through the gym. jaemin was moving like he was made for this, weaving through players with an ease. his focus was intense, completely imo in the game, but every now and then his eyes would flicker to you.

they were subtle glances, quick enough that no else would would have caught it. but you did, and he knew that.

and you hated that your stomach flipped every time it happened.

—

later in the game, halfway into the second quarter, jaemin caught a pass near the three-point line, and without hesitation, he launched the ball toward the hoop. The form was perfect, the kind of shot that sent the crowd to their feet before it even touched the net. and of course, you got the perfect picture of him in action, feet lifted at least a foot off the ground.

the cheers that followed were deafening. jaemin didn’t celebrate, he didn’t even look surprised. he just turned on his heels and jogged back to defense with that same cocky smirk, and looked directly at you.

you lowered your camera, heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

—

the fourth quarter had rolled around, and the gym was like a madhouse. the scoreboard glowing with mirrored numbers. 76-76. the game had been the kind that had the entire crowd on the edge of their seats constantly. every dribble, every pass, every shoot felt like it carried the weight of the entire game. and at the center of it all—na jaemin.

but he was also exhausted. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his hair. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved.

the rest of the team was just as worn out, struggling to keep up as the opposing team tried to pushed harder, desperate to steal the lead. jaemin had been their anchor, but the slight lag in his step was noticeable.

and yet, every time he looked up at the stands to you, there was still that unwavering determination. almost as if it pushed him harder; to keep his drive high.

you weren’t sure how long you had been holding your breath when the game reached the final full minute. the rival team had the ball, moving with quick, calculated passes, trying to run down the clock. the team knew what they were aiming for—a last-second shot, the buzzer-beater that would end it all.

jaemin wasn’t about to let that happen.

in a fraction of a second, he darted forward, intercepting a pass with a speed that seemed impossible given how drained he had to be by now. the crowd gasped, watching with intense focus, defenders right on his heels. you didn’t even realize you were standing until your knees bumped against the scorer’s table, camera still clutched tightly in your hands.

the timer was ticking down—

ten seconds left.

he crossed the three-point line. his teammates shouted, signaling for a pass, but he didn’t even glance their way, focused on his own play.

seven seconds.

an opposing player lunged at him, trying to block him. failing, jaemin spun around him, keeping the ball in his possession.

four seconds.

he took the shot running out of time.

the ball left his fingertips, spiraling toward the hoop just as the final buzzer blared through the gym.

time seemed to slow, everyone’s heads following the ball.

the ball traced the rim once—twice—before finally sinking through the net.

the gym erupted with cheers and yells and claps.

the student section stormed the court, screams of victory bouncing off the walls. the team tackled jaemin in celebration, hands ruffling his hair, hitting him on the back, yelling his name.

but jaemin wasn’t paying attention to them.

his eyes were locked on yours, with an ‘i told you so’ look.

and you knew.

this wasn’t just a win, it was his win.

and you were his prize.

—

jaemin had done it. he’d won the game, meaning he’d also won the bet.

as you sat at the bottom of the bleachers, still surrounded but the buzzing nature of the gym, you weren’t sure scared you more—the fact that he actually pulled it off, or the fact that you secretly wanted him to.

but before you could process it any further, a familiar figure broke through the heavy crowd.

jaemin. hot, sweaty, completely breathless.

his jersey clung to his skin, strands of damp hair falling over his forehead, cheeks flushed even more. his eyes were sharp, focused and locked onto you. he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you

your breath caught in your throat.

jaemin tilted his head, a breathless grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he ran a hand through his damp hair, the pieces falling right back. his chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. “about our little deal.”

you swallowed hard.

your mind scrambled trying to find an excuse, something to get out of this, but every word died before it could reach your tongue. the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted this. wanted him.

jaemin must have noticed the mix of hesitation in your expression because his smirk widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of sweat and cologne, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous.

“you’re not gonna back out on me, are you, pretty girl?”

something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch. the way he looked at you. like he already knew he had won more than the game and bet. you couldn’t form a proper response.

“uh..”

jaemin let out a quiet chuckle, gaze flickering to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “guess that means i’ll pick you up at seven.”

and just like that he turned around back to the court, leaving you standing there with your racing heart.

oh, you were screwed.

—

you weren’t nervous, definitely not.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you checked your reflection for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. it wasn’t even a real date. just the result of a stupid bet.

and yet, here you were, doing your last touches.

a sharp knock on your dorm door made you jolt, heart leaping into your throat. you took a deep breath before opening it, only to find jaemin leaning casually against the frame, looking criminally hot.

his sweaty jersey and damp hair from earlier was gone, now replaced in a white tee, covered by a black jean jacket and matched black jeans. his usual charm fully present. his cologne was soft but warm, dangerously enticing. and they way he had that signature smirk, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

jaemin’s eyes raked over you, picking out every detail. he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “damn,” he leaned in. little. “if i knew you’d clean up this nice, i would’ve made the bet a long time ago,”

you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the quickened pace of your heart. “are you gonna flirt all night or are we gonna leave?”

he chuckled, stepping from the doorframe, gesturing his arm out of the building. “both. definitely both.”

with a dramatic sigh, you stepped out and locked the door behind you. as you followed him to his car, you realized something—this felt like a real date. nothing forced, not awkward, not something you were being dragged into. interesting.

—

jaemin ended up taking you to a tucked away, late-night café, the kind with dim lighting and cozy booths. it was quieter than you expected, more intimate, which he probably planned.

as soon as you sat down in the booth, jaemin leaned forward, eyes fixed on you with that same infuriating smirk. “so, be honest,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

his words caught you off guard. “excuse me?”

he grinned. “i mean, you did agree to this pretty quickly.”

you scoffed. “it was a bet.”

“sure.” he nodded slowly, like he wasn’t the one who came up with it. “and yet, here you are. looking beautiful, by the way,”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “do you flirt with everyone like this?”

jaemin tilted his head, pretending to think. “only you.”

your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to glare. “unbelievable.”

he laughed, leaning back. “better get used to it, pretty girl. you’re my valentine this year,” ‘and hopefully forever’ he thought to himself.

you smiled shaking your head.

the worst part? you weren’t even mad about it. in fact, you couldn’t form see yourself going out with him more than just tonight. maybe you did harbor some feelings for na jaemin after all..

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

[kaira-diaries]

Teacher's Pet:

⚠️: smut || age gap (18+) || teacher’s pet trope

pairing: professor!in-ho x fem!reader (no games)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: now that I’ve watched LBH’s entire filmography I’m obsessed with his teacher roles…don’t know if should do more drabbles for this story? Kinda like the idea of continuing their relationship.

summary: I feel like the name of this drabble is self explanatory :)

-> Masterlist <-

It wasn’t like you meant to fall in love.

If you could even call it that.

Infatuation seemed more fitting—an unshakable pull, a slow-burning ache that settled deep in your bones. Perhaps even obsession, the kind that took root beneath your skin and refused to let go.

You weren’t some naive teenager.

You were a junior in college, fully grown, well past the age of consent, old enough to know better. And yet, nothing had prepared you for him.

Your Literature Professor.

Older, impossibly refined, with a presence that commanded attention without effort. His voice was rich, deliberate—each syllable a slow caress against your ears. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held the kind of secrets that made you want to drown in them. And when he spoke, quoting poetry and prose with an intimacy that felt illicit, you could do nothing but sit there, enthralled, burning beneath the weight of his words.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that one night.

But it did.

You sank into the plush cushions of his living room sofa, the scent of aged paper and faint traces of espresso lingering in the air. The space around you was a sanctuary of words, lined wall to wall with books that carried the weight of centuries, their spines cracked and well-loved, whispering stories from every corner of the world.

Your gaze drifted across the towering shelves, fingers itching to trace the gilded titles. Then, one book in particular caught your eye—its cover worn, edges softened from years of handling. Curiosity pulled you to your feet. You stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath you as you reached for the novel, its leather binding cool beneath your fingertips.

Flipping it open, your breath hitched. Nearly every page was marked with notes, the margins filled with hurried scrawls in a familiar, precise hand. Observations, questions, underlined passages—traces of a mind that dissected literature with an almost obsessive devotion.

Of course.

Dr. Hwang had always been relentless about annotating. He preached the importance of engaging with the text and of leaving a mark on the page as proof of understanding. And now, seeing it for yourself, you realized he didn’t just teach this—he lived it.

A strange warmth curled in your chest, a quiet thrill at witnessing something so intimately him.

"Snooping?" His voice cut through the quiet, low and smooth, pulling your attention instantly.

You turned toward him, pulse-quickening as your eyes took him in. His usual reading glasses were absent, allowing the warm glow of his deep brown eyes to shine unfiltered beneath the dim lighting. His black hair, normally neatly combed, had fallen into an effortlessly tousled state, strands curling slightly at his temples. And his shirt—half unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of collarbone and the faintest hint of his chest—was enough to send a rush of heat straight through you.

The sight of him relaxed and undone in the privacy of his home, nearly made you come apart.

You swallowed, grounding yourself by pressing the book closed against your palm. Your eyes flickered to the title before glancing back up at him.

"You have quite the collection, Dr. Hwang—"

"In-ho," he interrupted gently, his gaze holding yours with quiet insistence.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "In-ho," you repeated, the name rolling off your tongue with a newfound intimacy as if speaking it aloud changed something between you.

You placed the book back, walking across the living room to him. God he was beautiful..so strong, yet gentle. You nearly shuttered as his hands curved around your waist pulling you into him.

He sighed as his long fingers caressed the skin of your neck, just over your pulse. "This is shameful."

Your lips parted, breath hitching as his hovered just a hair’s breadth away—so close, yet not close enough. The anticipation was electric, a charged silence stretching between you for a fraction of a second before he closed the distance.

The kiss was deep, slow, devastatingly experienced. He didn’t rush—he knew exactly what he was doing, how to unravel you with the way his lips moved against yours, how to make you sigh into him as his tongue teased yours, coaxing rather than demanding. Every motion, every flick, and stroke was deliberate, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him as if he were the only thing tethering you to reality.

Your friends knew you were seeing someone, but you’d been careful—strategic, even—about the details. You never mentioned who he was, never let slip the little things that might give him away. And, of course, you’d completely omitted the one fact that would send them into a frenzy.

His age.

Forty-five. Nearly twice yours.

Twenty-one and forty-five isn’t that bad… right?

The thought alone made you cackle every time you tried to defend it in your mind. Maybe you should feel conflicted. Maybe you should care about the whispers, the judgment, the moral grayness of it all.

But then his tongue brushed against yours again, expertly, wickedly, pulling a soft whimper from your throat, and just like that—any lingering doubt, any concern for right or wrong—simply ceased to exist.

Another hand found its way to the back of your head, taking a fist full of your hair.

You’re probably wondering how the two of you ended up here.

Let’s just say it might have had something to do with your insufferable class participation—the way you challenged him just enough to be intriguing, how you always had an argument ready, your voice laced with just the right amount of defiance to make him smirk.

Or maybe it was the way you chewed on the ends of your pens, absentmindedly biting down as you listened to him lecture, completely unaware of how his eyes would flicker toward you, his train of thought stalling for just a second too long. You had no idea, at first, that he noticed—the way you stared at him a little too intently, lashes fluttering as if you weren’t hanging onto his every word.

And then there were your visits.

The ones that started out innocently enough—stopping by during office hours, armed with questions about literary theory, with scribbled notes and highlighted passages. But then the conversations started to stretch beyond the curriculum, turning into something softer, something dangerous. You’d linger too long, leaning just a little too close, your laughter filling the dimly lit space of his office.

Flirting was inevitable.

Touching came next.

But never kissing..at least not until tonight.

You remembered the first time the air between you changed.

It had been subtle(kinda, not really)—a shift so delicate(You'd beg to differ) it could have been ignored if not for the way it made your pulse stutter(yeah, right). A moment suspended in time, when his gaze held yours for a second too long, when his hand brushed your thigh beneath his desk his fingers lingering, making heat bloom under your skin and warmth pool between your legs.

He was so close, and you hadn't remembered what the two of you were talking about, but did it really matter?

Once his fingers had skimmed the material of your underwear you blinked, licking your lips. "Is this okay?" he had asked. He wanted permission. And while you didn't give it verbally, you embraced his hand pushing it beneath your lace underwear. Wanting his fingers to dig deep into you.

That was a week ago.  

Tonight, he'd invited you over.

And you'd never been so quick to accept an invite. (yikes)

His lips broke from yours, teeth scraping against your cheek as he sucked at your neck, "always so good for me in class," he practically breathed into you. Your hands grabbed at his neck, pulling him in more...if that was even physically possible.

"Always so stunning for me."

Right..did you forget to mention your dress code? And how it drastically got more..dangerous.

It wasn't like this was breaking any rules. Was it unethical? Hell yeah, it was, but what was college without a little drama? You're only young once right?

Time must have warped...or you somehow teleported to his bedroom, and the time read 3 am.

Hell, you couldn't tell which way was up or down as he dragged you into your fourth orgasm of the night, pulling you from your hands and knees to collide with his chest from behind. His moans filled your ears as he nudged into your neck, arms wrapped around your torso, hands tangling with yours.

You knew you were in trouble as he whimpered your name.

But the best part?

He knew he was in trouble, too.

Because no matter how much restraint he tried to summon, no matter how often he reminded himself of the lines he shouldn’t cross, you had an unshakable grip on him. It was maddening—this pull, this undeniable force that wrapped around him like a vice, refusing to let go.

You were young. Too young for him.

Beautiful, in a way that was effortless, in a way that made it impossible not to look.

And smart—so fucking smart.

It was your intelligence that ruined him the most.

He had noticed you the moment you walked in on syllabus day, slipping into your seat like you belonged there, like you were meant to be seen. There had been something about the way you carried yourself—self-assured, observant, a quiet confidence laced with just enough mischief.

Then you spoke.

And that was it.

Sharp, articulate, never hesitating to challenge an idea or poke holes in an argument. You were fearless in the way you debated, your mind quick, your words calculated. He told himself it was admiration—professional, appropriate. But admiration shouldn’t make his chest tighten when you look at him like that. It shouldn’t make his thoughts wander to places they had no business being.

And yet, from the moment you took that seat, he was doomed.

[zombaebitez]

Jackson!Perv!Ellie that can't stop staring at reader's white top cuz she can see her nipples under it? (Reader forgot to put on a bra since she never wears it when she's gonna sleep and she had to wake up early)

ellie williams x fem reader

zom’s note: i wrote this in like 20mins pls spare me, (i didn’t outright mention r! forgetting to wear a bra, just that r! isn’t).

word count: abt 535

warnings: slight nsfw content, ellie imagines doing stuff to reader, unknown/perverted staring.

Completely, and utterly fucked. That’s what Ellie has concluded about herself. What was supposed to be a chill hangover at her’s, turned into a sleepover; a common happening. It wasn’t the sleepover that made her feel like she was about to lose her damn mind. You had an early morning, but whined about how much you want to still hang. It's a win-win solution.

What did make her feel this way was what you were wearing, or lack of. Okay… let’s be honest, she knew she was in the gutter. You innocently decided to strip down to just your white shirt and underwear, to be comfortable sleeping. Sure, that’s fine. But, did Ellie keep taking small glances your way as you undressed, attention turned away from her? Hell yeah. She did it each time. Were you oblivious to her intense gaze? Maybe, fuck she didn’t know nor did she care.

Your soft skin, the curves of your body, the line of your back, hair unstyled… your tits. Okay what the fuck— as you kept moving around, putting your stuff on the couch, and picking up the mess you two made, she noticed the extra bounce, then the obvious outline of your nipples. She couldn’t help but not stare, while you were basically prancing around in her room half naked.

Ellie bit her lip, following them intently zoned out. Maybe it was a little perverted, especially when she felt that pang of arousal low where it shouldn't be. Scratch that, definitely perverted. But god she wanted you. Could easily just walk up to you, stop you in your tracks, wrapping arms around your waist that quickly trailed up to your clothed tits. Easily able to thumb over the hardness of your nipples, could lift your shirt up to feel the warmth of your skin. The touching leads to her wanting to taste, you’d be nice enough to let her. She’d quickly make her way to place small kisses around your chest, your body shivering in the process, and then finally…

“Ellie!” She jumps slightly, quickly looking up to your face. You looked slightly concerned, making your way to sit on the bed where she was. “Ellie, you okay? I was trying to get your attention for a second.” Ellie nodded quickly, clearing her throat as the bed dipped next to her.

“Yeah I’m all good, just deep… in thought?” She winced at her own sentence, wringing her own fingers, a small pang of… guilt? Thrill? Want… Need? You merely hummed a lighthearted ‘clearly’, getting comfortable on the bed, ending with a stretch. She glanced down towards your chest again, before looking away so fast the girl could’ve gotten whiplash. Mentally cursing herself to ‘not fucking stare again’. Ellie laid next to you in her bed trying to get comfortable, she didn’t have to fall asleep like you did. But god, was she about to force herself.

She knew she had to, or else the thoughts would fuck her up. You would fuck her up; but she’d let them… and you. That feeling deep down, progressively getting worse. A perverted lust over a close friend, a crush, a desire. Maybe no more sleepovers for a few days.

[strawberrystepmom]

dante x f!reader. established...something. reader is a magic anthropologist and they're both in their thirties. this is full of cringe banter and innuendo i'm so sawryyyyyyy | wc 1.6k, reading time: 7 minutes.

“What are you doing here?”

You’ve been aware of Dante’s slow creep down the aisle of the largest archive of metaphysical knowledge this godforsaken place has to offer for some time. You finally call out to him across messy stacks of books.

Foolishly, you hoped he wouldn’t make a game out of this. He strides up to you confidently, clearly thrilled to finally have forced you to be the first to break. This is familiar territory for you and him both, where all of your “career” related activities are conducted and where he comes to find you when he’s looked everywhere else without a trace.

Leaning against the shelf, he folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side.

“I’m researching obviously.”

You look up from the shelf in front of you with a raised brow only to be met with a pair of familiar eyes trained directly at the curve of your chest and whatever peak of skin is pushed up over your neckline. 

“Yeah, researching how far you can look down my shirt from that grand height you stand at.”

Caught, the gunslinger’s eyes drift toward your face without an ounce of shame in them. 

“And what about it?”

Your stance shifts from flat footed to standing on your tiptoes, arm extended high above your head with your thumb and forefinger reaching toward the tip of his nose to flick it. As sharply reflexed as he has ever been, he dodges the attack and captures your hand in his, spreading your fingers and pressing the heel of your hand against his lips.

Allowing him a moment to sniff your wrist and shoot his best half lidded glance downward, you end it quickly by snatching your arm from his grasp and placing it down at your side. A flaming face that belongs to you turns back toward the shelves to hide your thrill at his public flirtation, insisting upon keeping things polite while you’re working billable hours.

“What do you need, Dante?”

He wishes he could press another kiss at the delicate bend of your wrist.

“A break. A drink. Lots and lots and lots of money. Right now though? Information.”

Sighing, he leans against the bookshelf and holds out his forearms for you to place the ever growing stack you’re working with upon. Wrinkling your nose, you look between him and the books and he holds out his arms and shakes his head leaving you optionless. 

“What about?” You stack a book and then another, looking up at him to find him already staring down at you. “God don’t look at me like that, just tell me what you want.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head.

“Well, you, of course.” 

It takes all of your strength not to turn and walk away if only to be left alone from his tormenting. You’re good at holding your own, especially against the gruff figures who come to you in search of knowledge of demonology or the magical arts you’ve so raptly committed your life to seeking and holding yet it’s different with Dante.

The two of you have been very good friends since the spring of your early twenties. You’ve, at the very least, slept together for almost that entire time too - entering your thirties in each other’s arms. Constantly picking each other’s brains, running from each other when things got rough and back toward each other when they’ve improved or the lonely nights wouldn’t abate on their own. He’s almost sort of a…companion despite your distaste for defining characteristics.

A boyfriend who lives a life too dangerous for attachment, his very clear one to you cast aside. A man you think about when you wake and sleep both, hoping he’ll visit your dreams on the off chance he isn’t by your side. 

Enough of that. You clear your throat to feign impatience and force him to answer.

“I need to borrow that brain and how good you are at figuring out where to find shit in here.”

Laughing, you raise both of your brows.

“It’s alphabetical. Did you forget your letters or what?”

He leans downward, a larger frame closing in and you sidestep him slightly, pretending preoccupation with the books on the portion of the shelf in front of you.

“I forget everything when you’re around.”

Scoffing, you yank a book off of the shelf. “Okay now you’re laying it on a little too thick.”

Looking around the library, you know it’s futile to refuse him. There hasn’t been a moment in the past ten years you’ve told him no in any meaningful way and surely you won’t start today.

“I’m working—” he raises his eyebrows and gasps at the words, feigning shock and you shake your head to dissuade him from continuing with his show. Working is all you’ve seemed to be doing these days, spending days and nights alike with books spread across the small expanse of your apartment leaving little time for extracurricular fun. “But I can make time to help out if you promise you’ll let me handle the research I’m being paid for first.”

“I could pay you too, y’know. My methods may be a little unconventional compared to whatever this mysterious patron is paying you with,” he raises a brow and you roll your eyes. “You’d be rewarded very, very well if you’d only put the books down for one night.”

The innuendo is dripping from his every word. If you knew less about how much he meant what he’s saying perhaps you could play it off better yet your cheeks flame. You know how his rough hands feel at the base of your spine and the dip of your waist, swearing you can feel them drag across you. 

“Oh by the way, what’s the name of that demon you needed me to research?”

Attempting to gain a little bit of control over yourself and the situation, you change the subject and pretend you can’t taste him as clear as day in your mouth, memories doing more than you need them to right now.

“It’s, uh, H…” he trails off, giving up the effort of continuing his tall tale. Another sigh, another beat passes and he furrows his brows. 

You always manage to expertly cut him down to size, a curse and a blessing all at the same time. 

“I’ve been trying to see you for weeks, honey.”

You shake your head. “Days. It has been days since the last time we saw each other and you spent the night despite saying you were leaving before I passed out.”

No chance of wiggling out of this one.

“In my defense, they’ve felt like weeks. Months.”

Shoulders sagging, you lean forward and press yourself against the bookshelf and a pitiful excuse for a frown, the upturned corners of your mouth you can’t seem to put down any time he’s around giving you away. “Sorry for neglecting you. Unfortunately, a girl’s gotta eat and pay rent.”

Of course, there’s no offer made to assist you with either of those things considering he has to work pretty hard for both of them himself. 

“And while we’re discussing it, you don’t have to pay me with that.” 

If you weren��t in public you’d say what you mean - fucking - but it’s easier to simply allude to the late nights spent taking out your mutual grief and frustration with physical release when company you don’t know may be lurking around. Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to the shelves and stack another book atop the rest. 

“In fact, if we both had more of it to spare, just spending time with you would be payment enough.”

If he’s taken aback he does his best to hide it, shifting slightly and covering his face partially by turning it in the direction of the darkened other end of the aisle. 

“See, all this time I thought you only liked me for my body,” he lets slip.

Softly giggling, you pause all other movement besides the rise and fall of your chest and the focus of your gaze upon the man beside you though his gaze remains averted.

“Nah, I hate to say it but I enjoy your company most of all.”

Now he’s drawn back, looking at you with a bit of doubt clouding those steel blue eyes to which you notice and shrug at. “We have the best conversations. You make me laugh; you never make me feel like it’s inconvenient to liste–”

Your words are swallowed by Dante’s mouth before you can get them out. Those quick reflexes worked to bring him close to you before you could even notice, soft lips pressed against a slightly drier, rougher pair. 

“Well when you put it that way,” he mutters against your lips. You laugh against his mouth, lips curving perfectly into his. 

It’s all almost too sweet to bear. Strangely boyfriend-y for a man you’re so apprehensive to refer to as such. 

A stranger breezes past the two of you in the aisle and pretends not to gawk. Despite the hairs standing up on the back of your neck, you let the natural scrap of shame you have remaining go the way everything else does when Dante’s around.

It disappears, evaporates. Leaves only the two of you behind. 

“You can stick around if you don’t have anything better to do,” you tell him, finally breaking away.

Groaning, he redistributes the weight of the books across his arms and stands up so he’s no longer slouching.

“Can’t we take them back to your place?”

Shaking your head, you rap your knuckles against the heaviest metal spine bound book at the bottom of the pile.

“Nope, the rules dictate that this one stays here and I need it the most.”

Smirking, he leans in closer to you. “Then we’ll just have to have some fun here.”

Tossing another book atop the now chin height stack he’s carrying, you shoot him a look that says everything he needs to know. The private booth in the back the two of you occupied the last time he decided to bother you at work is available today.

[insidekatmind]

Valentine’s Day -Levi Colwill

Valentine’s Day had finally arrived, along with the romantic weekend Levi had planned for the two of you. He hadn’t told you much—just that it would be special and that you needed to trust him. So, with your heart pounding in excitement, you let him drive you to your secret destination.

After a couple of hours on the road, filled with lighthearted conversation and laughter, your eyes widened in surprise when you saw the cabin where you’d be spending the weekend. It was nestled among snow-covered trees, with large windows that let in a warm, golden glow. It looked like something out of a fairytale.

Levi glanced at you with a satisfied smile. “Well? Do you like it,baby?”

“Do I like it? love, it’s beautiful,” you exclaimed, throwing yourself into his arms. He chuckled, holding you close before stealing a sweet, slow kiss, as if he wanted to engrave this moment in his memory.

As you stepped inside, the scent of wood and vanilla candles filled the air. A fireplace crackled in the corner, the couch was draped in soft blankets, and a bottle of red wine was already waiting on the table, ready to be opened.

“You really thought of everything, huh?” you said, turning to him with an affectionate smile.

“Only the best for you,” he replied, gently caressing your cheek. “Now, how about we start this weekend the right way?”

And so, between toasts and laughter, the evening slipped away with a warmth that filled your heart. You cooked together, danced in the kitchen to soft music playing in the background, and lost yourselves in endless kisses by the fire.

When night fell, you curled up together under a cozy blanket, the dim lights casting a soft glow around you as the wind howled gently outside the window. Levi pulled you closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“I don’t want this weekend to end,” he murmured, his voice full of sincerity that made your heart clench.

You intertwined your fingers with his, pressing a soft kiss to his hand. “Then let’s make every moment count.”

And in that precise instant, as he gazed at you with pure love in his eyes, you knew there was no other place in the world you’d rather be.

You smile softly and kiss him. He smiles softly, his heart swelling with affection as he returns the kiss. His hand gently finds its way to your cheek, his thumb tracing light circles over your skin. "I love you," he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. "More than words can express."

You cling to him. “I love you so much too,” you whisper softly. Levi pulled you closer, his hand gently exploring your back, tracing the curve of your spine.

"You look amazing tonight," he whispered, his gaze fixed on you with raw admiration. "Like a vision, straight from my wildest dreams." You shiver from his touch, feeling the intensity of his gaze on you. His words sent a pleasant heat through your body, a mix of emotions welling up within you.

"You don’t have to flatter me," you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I’m already yours." He chuckled softly at your response, the sound a mixture of affection and desire. "I know you are, and that’s precisely why I want to shower you in compliments."

Levi pulled you even closer, his body pressed against yours in a way that made your heart quicken. His hand slid up to your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip, the touch sending electricity through your veins.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured, his gaze fixed on your face with an intensity that made your breath catch. "And you’re mine."

You feel your cheeks flush, his words sending a thrill down your spine. You can’t help but smile, feeling his possessive touch and the intensity of his gaze.

"I’m all yours," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Completely and utterly yours."

[hookhausenschips]

Giddy Up Cowgirl {jh86}

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WC: 11k

Warnings: 18+ | semi public sex | fingering | light choking | light!dom Jack | finger sucking | oral (m receiving) | dirty talk | cream pie (wrap it up people!) | sexual tension |

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It was a crisp late evening in Nashville, the city still buzzing from the excitement of the game earlier that night. The Devils had just wrapped up a dominant victory, their first win on this road trip, and the team was in high spirits. The locker room hummed with laughter and chatter, the sound of lockers slamming shut and equipment bags being zipped up filling the air. Players clapped each other on the back, their smiles wide as they basked in the thrill of victory.

As the players trickled out of the locker room, some headed straight for the team bus, eager to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest. Others, like Jack Hughes, were a bit more eager to prolong the high of the win. He stretched his arms above his head and turned to his teammates with a mischievous grin.

"Who’s up for a little fun?" Jack asked, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few of the guys who were lingering near the exit.

"Fun?" Dougie Hamilton raised an eyebrow, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "We just won a game, Jack. What’s left to do except get some sleep?"

Jack’s grin only widened, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Nah, I’m thinking something a little more... Nashville."

The word hung in the air like a challenge, and a few of the players exchanged curious looks. Everyone knew Nashville had a reputation for its lively nightlife, its honky-tonk bars, and its wild, free-spirited vibe. But there was one place in particular that had captured the attention of the team during their short time in the city: the PBR Bar, known for its country music, cold beers, and—most famously—its mechanical bull.

A couple of players—Jesper Bratt and Miles Wood—snapped their heads toward Jack, both grinning. 

“I’m in,” Miles said quickly, tossing his bag into the corner and pulling his hoodie over his head.

Jesper nodded enthusiastically, his blonde hair still a bit tousled from the game. “It’s been forever since I’ve ridden a bull. Let’s go make some memories.”

With the decision made, the team’s energy shifted from the adrenaline of the game to the anticipation of a night out. As the players made their way to the hotel’s parking lot, the night was alive with the sounds of city traffic and the distant hum of music drifting out from the many bars that lined the streets. The air was cold, but the excitement in the players’ hearts kept them warm.

They piled into a few cars, with Jack at the wheel of one, his eyes glancing back toward his teammates with a grin. "Trust me, this place is legendary," he said, the headlights illuminating his face as he made a sharp turn.

“What’s so legendary about it, huh?” Dougie called from the backseat, clearly skeptical. “Is it the bull or the beer?”

“Both,” Luke answered, a confident laugh escaping his lips. “The place is known for its... competitive bull-riding scene. You get on, you try to stay on as long as you can. You don’t want to be the guy who gets thrown off in front of the whole bar. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

Miles chuckled. “Perfect. I love a good challenge.”

As the car cruised through downtown, the team’s mood shifted to something more playful and carefree. For these young men, the game was in the past, and the present was all about having fun. They were a close-knit group, a family on and off the ice, and nights like these—full of laughter and lighthearted competition—were what they lived for.

When they finally arrived at the PBR Bar, the lights outside blinked brightly, and the sound of live music mixed with the cheers of people inside. The smell of smoky barbeque and fried food wafted through the air as the team piled out of the cars and headed for the entrance.

"Welcome to Nashville," Jack said, throwing open the door and leading the way inside.

The atmosphere was electric. Music blared from speakers, and the scent of food and drinks filled the air. At the center of the room was the mechanical bull, its bright red body gleaming under the lights, waiting for the brave souls who dared to ride. The sight of it sparked an immediate sense of excitement in the group.

"Alright, let’s see who’s the real cowboy here," Jesper said, eyeing the bull as he slapped Jack on the back.

"You sure about that?" Luke grinned. "I’ve got some moves on that bull. Might take you down."

A round of laughter erupted as the team gathered around, ready to enjoy the night. For a moment, it felt as though everything outside of the rink had faded away. No pressures, no expectations—just a group of guys unwinding, excited to let loose after a big win.

It was the perfect way to celebrate.

The moment the Devils walked through the doors of the PBR Bar, the shift from the cool Nashville evening air to the electric energy inside was palpable. The lights hit them first—neon blues and reds casting vibrant hues across the room, reflecting off the polished wood and the metallic fixtures. The air was thick with excitement, the unmistakable sounds of laughter, chatter, and music filling every corner of the expansive bar.

The team moved through the crowd, their eyes scanning the space. In the center of it all, under a massive sign that read "PBR" in glowing red letters, was the mechanical bull. It was perched on a raised platform, its sleek, red-painted frame illuminated by spotlights. The crowd gathered around it, watching as some brave souls tried—and failed—to stay atop its bucking surface. Cheers erupted each time someone was thrown off, adding to the electric atmosphere.

The space itself was an interesting mix of the rustic and the contemporary. Wood-paneled walls, cowhide accents, and vintage Western décor created the atmosphere of an old-time saloon, but the music gave it a modern twist. Top 40 hits bounced off the walls, punctuated by classic rock and a bit of country here and there, creating an unexpected but exhilarating blend. The energy was high, the music a perfect backdrop for the revelers’ animated conversations and shouts of encouragement.

Their eyes immediately landed on the action. A group of girls were dancing on the bar, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the music. They wore red cross-tied crop tops paired with matching red bottom shorts and stirrups that gave off a playful, daring vibe. The girls moved with confidence, their smiles wide, creating a captivating spectacle as they effortlessly slid across the polished surface of the bar.

It was hard not to notice them—especially for Jack. He couldn’t help but be drawn to the energy in the room, but one dancer in particular caught his attention. She was a Black woman, her beautiful sepia-toned skin glowing under the neon lights. There was something magnetic about the way she moved—an effortless blend of confidence, grace, and fun that drew Jack in almost immediately. Her every move seemed to flow with the beat, her body moving in perfect sync to the rhythm, like she had been born to dance. The way she held herself, so completely at ease in the spotlight, made her stand out from the others, and Jack found himself momentarily entranced by her.

Her smile was wide and infectious as she laughed with the other dancers, her energy lighting up the room. Jack noticed the way she moved with a playful intensity, her body expressing the music like it was a language she had mastered. Her confidence was undeniable, but it wasn’t cocky—it was something else, something that made her stand out in a way that was captivating, yet not overbearing.

He could feel the pull of her presence, something about the way she carried herself drawing him in, though he quickly tried to shake off the thought. He had just walked into the bar, and this was supposed to be a night for the team to let loose. But there was no denying the intrigue he felt as he watched her—a curiosity that he couldn’t quite push away.

Jack’s teammates had started to disperse, heading for the bar and scanning the crowd for a place to settle in. But Jack remained rooted to the spot, his gaze lingering on the dancer for just a moment longer than he had intended. He wasn’t sure why she had caught his eye, but there was no denying that something about her was magnetic.

Miles Wood, ever the instigator, caught Jack's distracted look. "Dude, what are you looking at?" he teased, nudging Jack in the side.

Jack blinked and quickly shook his head, trying to snap out of it. "Nothing, just… checking out the scene," he replied, giving his friend a half-hearted shrug. He was grateful for the distraction, but a part of him couldn’t help but steal another glance at the girl, her laughter filling the space around him, as if calling him in.

"Yeah, the scene’s got a lot going on," Dougie said, smirking as he grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him toward the bar. "But I’m pretty sure you’ve seen enough. Time for some drinks."

Jack allowed himself to be pulled along by his teammate, but his attention wavered once more as the girl on the bar flashed a smile in his direction. It was playful, but there was something behind it that made Jack’s heart beat a little faster. 

He couldn’t quite place it, but for some reason, he was fascinated. It was like she had a secret, a sense of mystery that pulled him in, though he couldn't even begin to figure out why. 

As the team found their spot at the bar, Jack’s mind was still a little distracted, the sound of the girl’s laugh and the sway of her movements lingering in his thoughts. There was something about her that felt like a challenge—like a puzzle that needed to be solved. And Jack Hughes was never one to back down from a challenge.

The music pulsed through the room like the heartbeat of the night, each beat sending ripples of energy across the crowd. The PBR Bar was alive, a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and people lost in the rhythm of the music. Among the crowd, the dancers on the bar had become the center of attention, their synchronized movements adding to the chaos of color and sound. But one dancer stood out from the rest, her presence undeniable.

She was the one who caught Jack’s eye the moment he walked in. She was the girl who made the chaotic energy of the bar seem like a carefully orchestrated show, her body moving with effortless grace, each movement filled with confidence and rhythm. Jack couldn’t look away, captivated by the way she owned the space around her, as if the world was hers to command.

Her skin, a radiant sepia-toned glow under the neon lights, seemed to draw all the light in the room toward her. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, moving with her body as she spun, twirled, and leaned into the music. There was a boldness in her movements, a confidence that made her seem untouchable yet completely approachable all at once. She didn’t just dance—she became the music, weaving in and out of the crowd with the kind of effortless charm that made her seem like she belonged to the very air she breathed.

Jack’s gaze lingered a little longer than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it. There was something magnetic about her, something that made it impossible for him to look away. His heart skipped a beat as she moved—fluidly, playfully, with a grace that felt almost too natural for the setting. She smiled, flashing her teeth as she playfully interacted with the crowd, and Jack found himself frozen for just a moment, caught in the orbit of her energy.

That’s when their eyes met.

Her gaze was sharp and knowing, and in the instant their eyes locked, Jack felt a small jolt, like an electric charge passing through him. The corners of her lips lifted into a smile—playful, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t shy, wasn’t pretending to be anything she wasn’t. She was completely comfortable in her own skin, and there was a certain confidence in that which drew Jack even further into her orbit.

As she continued her routine, Jack couldn’t help but be aware of the others around him, but she remained the focal point of his attention. She danced effortlessly, working the bar like it was a second home, smiling at people, laughing, engaging them without ever missing a beat. She moved like she was born to do this, her energy contagious and impossible to ignore. Every time she spun or tossed her hair back, Jack’s gaze followed her, unable to look away.

When she finally finished her routine, she gracefully stepped down from the bar, the crowd giving her a round of applause as she smoothly walked off the platform. Her confidence didn’t falter for a second as she navigated through the crowd, heading straight toward the bar where the Devils were now settled, drinks in hand, talking amongst themselves. Jack watched as she made her way toward them, a smile still playing on her lips.

She approached the group, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother, who had his own mischievous smile plastered across his face. He had been watching her just as intently as Jack had, and now that she was near, he didn’t waste any time.

"Hey," Luke said with a grin, leaning across the bar toward her. "You were amazing up there. Think you could teach me some of those moves?"

The girl—Y/N, Jack finally caught her name from the bartender—laughed, the sound like music itself. There was no hesitation in her response, just a playful, teasing look.

"If you’re really that interested," she said, her voice light and flirtatious, "I’d say you should join me on the dance floor. But fair warning—you’re gonna have to work for it."

Luke’s grin widened. “I’m up for the challenge.”

Jack, overhearing the exchange, felt a small laugh bubble up in his throat, though he quickly tried to suppress it. He was still processing the whirlwind of his thoughts, his attention split between his brother’s banter and the undeniable pull of Y/N’s energy. There was something about her—something both confident and inviting—that made Jack want to know more. It was hard to ignore the playful chemistry that radiated between them.

Y/N flashed another smile, one that was a little less playful and a bit more knowing. "Alright, then," she said with a wink, before turning toward the dance floor. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

As she walked away, Jack couldn’t help but watch her go. There was a swagger in her step, a confidence in the way she moved that made it clear she was used to being the center of attention. But unlike most people who might be arrogant or self-centered with that kind of energy, there was something about her that felt genuine. She wasn’t playing a part—she was just herself. 

And that was what made her so captivating.

Luke, meanwhile, was already getting up, eagerly following her toward the dance floor. "You coming, Jack?" he called over his shoulder, clearly ready to show off some of his own moves.

Jack hesitated for just a moment before he shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll catch up later.”

His eyes followed Y/N as she weaved her way through the crowd, and he found himself wondering if this night—this random, chaotic, and spontaneous night in Nashville—was about to lead to something far more interesting than he had ever expected.

The Devils were finally settled in at the bar, each player nursing a cold drink in hand as the evening unfolded around them. The high-energy atmosphere of the PBR Bar continued to buzz with excitement, but now, it was more laid-back—a mix of good conversation and an easy camaraderie that came from having a few wins under their belts and a night off to unwind. The table was full of laughter, some playful teasing, and the sound of ice clinking in glasses.

Y/N, ever the professional, was moving around the bar with the same confidence that had drawn Jack’s attention earlier. She was back with a fresh round of drinks, balancing them effortlessly as she approached their table. Her presence was magnetic, and Jack couldn’t help but watch her as she set the drinks down in front of them. She flashed a smile at the group, her eyes glinting with that same playful spark that had caught Jack off guard earlier.

"Here you go," she said with a smile. "One round for the Devils." Her eyes met Jack’s for a brief moment, and he felt that familiar jolt of attraction. But it was Nico Hischier who broke his reverie, leaning forward with curiosity.

"So, I gotta ask," Nico said, lifting his drink. "What's the deal with the mechanical bull? You guys get a lot of brave souls trying it out?"

Y/N grinned, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. "Oh, you know," she said, her voice dripping with playful challenge. "There's always someone trying to show off. But if you're asking about me…" She winked, leaning in just a little. "I’m always happy to give the bull a spin. Might just show you all a thing or two."

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll pass. I prefer not to embarrass myself." He raised his drink as if in salute.

Y/N’s lips curled into a playful pout as she straightened up. "Shame," she teased, her tone light but playful. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me." With that, she turned to look at the rest of the Devils players. "Anyone else want to try it? Or are we all too shy tonight?"

But before anyone could answer, the DJ’s voice boomed over the mic, interrupting the group’s conversation.

"Alright, alright, folks, we’ve got a real treat tonight!" The DJ’s voice was energetic, grabbing the attention of everyone in the bar. "This girl here is the best bullrider this side of the Mississippi! She’s our very own homegrown girl, and if you’ve never seen her work, well, you’re in for a show. Give it up for Y/N!"

The crowd cheered, and the energy in the room shifted, becoming even more charged as Y/N grinned and gave the crowd a little wave. Without missing a beat, she winked at the Devils as she stepped away from the bar as "Gotta Get Me Some' by Nickelback began playing.

"Excuse me, boys," she said with a playful glance at Jack. "Duty calls." And just like that, she was off, moving toward the mechanical bull at the center of the room.

Jack watched her go, his eyes following every step as she made her way to the bull. The inflatable pit surrounding it was filled with eager patrons, but Y/N was the one everyone had come to see. She made her way to the mechanical bull with a confidence that sent a ripple of anticipation through the crowd. The DJ introduced her one last time, and a cheer went up from the people around her as she climbed onto the bull like she’d done it a thousand times before.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow down for Jack. He could feel the electric energy in the room focus entirely on Y/N, as if the crowd was holding its collective breath, waiting to see what she’d do next.

With a fluid motion, Y/N slipped into position on the bull, her posture perfect, her legs wrapping around the inflatable beast. She flashed a smile to the crowd, her eyes gleaming with excitement. And then, without a second thought, she kicked the bull into motion.

The machine lurched beneath her, but Y/N didn’t falter. Instead, she leaned into the rhythm, moving with the bucking bull as though she had an intimate understanding of its every move. She adjusted her body, anticipating each jolt, her feet planted firmly as she worked the mechanical bull with a fluidity that stunned the room.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she controlled the bull with such grace, the way she shifted her weight effortlessly—it was as if she were born to do this. Her body moved with confidence and precision, her hips swaying with the movement of the bull, and there was an undeniable chemistry between her and the mechanical animal. She looked like she could take on anything, and she was doing it all with that playful grin that had first captivated Jack when he saw her on the bar.

The crowd cheered as she pulled off a series of daring moves—one moment leaning back as the bull twisted beneath her, the next bouncing with the motion in perfect sync. Jack’s jaw was practically on the floor, unable to look away from her.

She spun around once, her body moving in tandem with the machine, then threw a teasing wink toward the crowd. As the bull jerked again, she adjusted her stance, gliding effortlessly with its motions, her hands gripping the ropes, but never losing that carefree energy. She had the whole bar watching her, and she knew it—her confidence was contagious.

Jack was completely star-struck, unable to believe what he was witnessing. She wasn’t just a good rider; she was extraordinary. Every twist and turn, every movement felt intentional, like she was showing off the kind of skill only a true professional could possess. And Jack… well, he was mesmerized. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she continued to wow the crowd with her daring moves.

His teammates had noticed too, but Jack didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was Y/N, her laughter and the infectious energy she brought with every movement. She wasn’t just playing to the crowd—she was the heart of it.

When she finally dismounted, landing lightly on her feet in the inflatable pit below, the crowd erupted in applause, and Y/N took a graceful bow, her smile wide and full of satisfaction. She glanced over at the Devils table and gave them a knowing, playful smile before heading back to the bar, where Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her.

As Y/N disappeared back into the crowd, the noise of the PBR Bar returned to full volume, but the Devils were far from distracted. Jack’s attention remained locked on her, his eyes following her every move as she returned to the bar. It didn’t take long before his teammates caught on—after all, Jack wasn’t exactly being subtle.

"Well, well, well," Nico’s voice rang out, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over their table. "Looks like someone’s a little smitten." Nico gave Jack a knowing grin, his eyes flicking between Jack and the bar, where Y/N had just settled behind the counter, exchanging banter with the bartender.

Jack blinked, finally pulling his gaze away from her and trying his best to look casual, though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. "What? No, I—" he stammered, then tried to recover, "I’m not—what are you even talking about?"

Dougie Hamilton leaned in with a sly smile, his voice low but teasing. "Uh-huh. Right, Jack," he drawled. "You were staring at her like you’d never seen a woman before. Don't even try to play it cool now." He nudged Jack's shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to mask his embarrassment. “I wasn’t staring. I was just—watching her ride the bull. That was impressive, alright?”

“Oh, we saw it. We all saw it,” Miles Wood chimed in, his grin wide and his voice full of teasing amusement. “You were practically drooling, man. I thought you were gonna jump on that bull yourself.”

Jack groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shut up, guys. She’s just... she’s really good at it. That’s all. You know, like any pro athlete is good at their thing.”

Luke, who had been listening in quietly, suddenly piped up with a devilish grin. “Sure, sure. You weren’t staring at her... just the bull, right? Because you definitely didn’t look like you were about to ask her for a private lesson.”

The rest of the guys burst out laughing, and Jack’s face turned a deeper shade of red. He took a long sip of his drink, hoping the conversation would just die down. But Nico, ever the instigator, wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“C’mon, Jack,” Nico said, leaning in with a grin. “You can’t fool us. You’re looking at her like she just stepped out of your favorite dream. You should go talk to her. She definitely noticed you watching.”

Jack shot Nico a glare, but deep down, he knew they were right. He had been caught. He was staring at Y/N—no denying that. And something about her confidence, her effortless charm—it was hard to ignore. The way she owned the room when she was on that bull had just fascinated him. But talking to her? That felt like a whole other level of nerve he wasn’t sure he was ready to tackle.

“Yeah, you should,” Dougie added, nudging him again. “Go up to the bar, strike up a conversation. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jack shook his head, half-amused and half-exasperated. "I’m not some rookie, guys," he said with a half-smile, trying to play it cool. "I’m just... enjoying the night."

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, just ‘enjoying the night.’ Sure. So why’s your face all red? I don’t think it’s from the drinks.”

“Yeah, tell us about that,” Miles teased, leaning back in his chair, clearly getting comfortable with the teasing. “You’re usually way better at hiding it when you’ve got a thing for someone. But this time? Buddy, it’s written all over your face.”

Jack groaned, and the guys continued to chuckle at his expense. His teammates didn’t miss a beat, continuing their teasing while Jack pretended to ignore them. But deep down, his mind was racing. They were right. He had noticed Y/N. He had been watching her, and for some reason, the whole thing—her confidence, her energy, her way of moving—had left him utterly captivated.

But of course, the team wasn’t going to let him forget it. They kept it up for a while longer, throwing in playful comments and nudges, until Jack was so red in the face he considered ducking out of the bar entirely. But he didn’t.

After a few minutes, Miles gave him a playful wink. "Alright, Jack," he said. "Go on and get it over with. Take the bull by the horns—or, uh, Y/N by the reins."

Jack looked at Miles, then around the table at all his teammates, each one grinning like they knew exactly what he was thinking. He sighed, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fine. You guys win. But if I do this, it’s on my terms. No more teasing, got it?”

The guys cheered, the teasing dying down as they gave Jack an encouraging look, but there was a mischievous glint in their eyes. They weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“Good luck, Jack,” Nico said with a wink. “We’ll be right here to watch it unfold. Don't forget to get a selfie with her!”

Jack rolled his eyes again, but with a smirk, he finally stood up, ready to face whatever conversation might come his way. As he made his way toward the bar, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, still teasing but oddly supportive in their own way. But none of that mattered as much as the fact that, for some strange reason, he had the feeling that this night was about to get a lot more interesting than he’d expected.

As Jack made his way toward the bar, his heart beat a little faster than he expected. He could hear the muffled chatter and music of the bar growing louder with each step, but in the back of his mind, all he could focus on was the reason he was heading in that direction in the first place.

Y/N.

When he reached the bar, he was momentarily distracted by the sea of people, all milling around, but there she was, standing behind the counter with a drink in hand, casually chatting with a customer. Her smile lit up the space, and for a second, Jack just stood there, watching her effortlessly move between the crowd, her energy magnetic.

Then, as if she sensed his presence, Y/N glanced over, her eyes locking onto Jack’s with a mischievous glint. She flashed a smile, and in a few steps, she was right there in front of him, leaning against the bar casually as if she’d been waiting for him.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice teasing but soft. “Look who finally decided to show up. You ready to ride the bull, or are you just another tourist passing through?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness as she gave him a knowing look, her lips curving into a smile that made Jack’s stomach flip.

Jack felt his cheeks heat up at the mention of the bull, and suddenly, the confident, laid-back persona he’d had just moments ago felt miles away. His mind went blank for a second, and he found himself stammering, trying to find the right words.

“Uh, w-what?” He cleared his throat. “I mean… I—I wasn’t planning on riding it, but—uh… I guess it’d be… fun to watch.” He couldn’t help but notice how her gaze held his, her eyes locking onto his as if she was daring him to say something else, something more daring.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Oh really?” she teased. “I thought you were the kind of guy who liked a challenge. I mean, you’ve seen me show you all how it’s done, right?” She leaned a little closer, her voice lowering just enough to make him feel like the room was suddenly smaller. “You sure you’re just here for the drinks?”

Jack blinked a few times, his throat dry. The way she spoke—so confident, so direct—was enough to send him spinning. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to talk to women, but something about her presence made his usual easygoing confidence evaporate in an instant.

“Uh… I, uh…” Jack stammered again, completely flustered by the attention she was giving him. “I mean, I’ve seen you ride the bull, and, uh, it’s... pretty impressive. But, uh, not sure if I’m quite ready to, uh, try it out just yet.”

Y/N’s smirk deepened, her eyes dancing with amusement. She was clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him, and Jack was too far gone to even try to hide it. He could feel his palms start to sweat slightly, the alcohol in his system doing nothing to help his nerves.

“Not ready for the bull, huh?” she teased, her voice almost a whisper now, like she was sharing a secret. “Tell me, Jack—are you always this cautious, or is it just when it comes to me?”

The words hit him like a wave, and Jack could barely keep himself from stumbling over his response. “I—uh—no, I mean—I'm not cautious!” he said quickly, his words tripping over each other. “I just... I mean, I just... didn’t want to make a fool of myself, that's all.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and full of teasing, but there was no malice in it—just fun. "Oh, Jack, you're far from making a fool of yourself," she said, her voice playful. "But, hey, if you're too shy, I totally get it. Not everyone’s cut out for the bull. But hey, you might just surprise yourself." 

Jack felt his pulse quicken at the way she looked at him—her gaze softened just a little, and he realized she wasn’t just teasing him. She was flirting, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to take the challenge. To prove something. To her.

He didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly, the idea of being cautious felt ridiculous. He’d come this far—he wasn’t going to back down now.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, his voice now a little steadier than before, though the lingering nerves were still there. “I’ll give it a shot. But only because you made it sound like fun.”

Y/N’s grin widened, clearly pleased with his decision. “That’s what I like to hear,” she said, her voice still low and teasing. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me on that bull, Jack.”

Before he could respond, she gave him a playful wink, and then, without another word, she turned back to the rest of the bar, ready to prep another round of drinks for some eager patrons. Jack, still trying to collect himself, stood there for a moment, his mind racing. Was he really about to ride the mechanical bull? With her watching?

His teammates, watching from their table nearby, couldn’t help but notice the slight color in his cheeks and the distracted look on his face as Y/N walked away. 

“Oh man,” Nico chuckled, nudging Dougie with his elbow. “Looks like Jack’s about to face his biggest challenge of the night.”

Dougie grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Told you, Jack. No backing out now.”

Jack shot them both an exasperated look but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was in it now. There was no turning back.

With a deep breath, he straightened up and made his way toward the inflatable pit, ready to take on the bull—and whatever else the night might bring.

Jack climbed onto the mechanical bull with as much confidence as he could muster, but the truth was, his legs were already starting to feel like jelly beneath him. He tugged at the straps on the bull, positioning himself as best as he could. His hands gripped the handles in front of him with white knuckles, his palms clammy against the synthetic leather. He could feel the vibrations from the bull beneath him, the mechanical beast waiting to spring into action.

He glanced around, trying to act cool, but there was no denying the fact that he was a little nervous. The cheers from the crowd were loud, almost deafening, as they eagerly awaited the ride. The rest of his team was gathered near the sidelines, teasing and shouting playful encouragements, but Jack’s focus was entirely on the bull and, more specifically, on the girl who had just told him he should give it a shot.

As the bull began to move, swaying beneath him in slow, deliberate motions, Jack’s heart rate increased. He hadn’t expected to be quite this nervous. He tried to settle into a rhythm, trying not to grip the handles too tightly, but the bull jerked suddenly, and he almost lost his balance. 

"Whoa—whoa!" Jack muttered under his breath, holding on even tighter, feeling like he was on the verge of being thrown off at any second. He couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his own awkwardness.

Just as he was beginning to doubt his decision, the crowd cheered again, but this time it wasn’t just for him. To his surprise, a familiar face appeared beside him—Y/N. Without missing a beat, she hopped onto the bull behind him, moving with a fluidity that made Jack feel like he was a complete amateur in comparison. 

The crowd erupted into even more applause, but Jack’s focus was completely stolen by the way she effortlessly adjusted herself behind him, settling into position with the kind of confidence Jack could only dream of having. 

Y/N’s body pressed against his back, her presence warm and undeniable, and she flashed him a grin. “Hold on tight,” she teased, her voice warm and playful, almost as if she was giving him a secret, inside tip. “I don’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to laugh or just lose himself in the absurdity of the situation. He was already nervous about riding the bull, and now Y/N was practically pressed against him, her steady, fluid movements making him feel clumsy by comparison.

“Okay,” Jack muttered, trying to gather himself. “I got this.”

Y/N’s laughter vibrated through him, light and infectious. “You’re holding on like your life depends on it,” she teased, her voice close to his ear. “Relax, Jack. You’re not gonna fall. Trust me, I’ve got you.”

The way she said it—so confidently, with such easy familiarity—brought a wave of relief, though Jack still couldn’t shake his nervousness. He shifted slightly, trying to focus on staying balanced, but the more he tried to focus on the bull, the more aware he became of her proximity. She wasn’t just sitting behind him; she was with him, like they were a team, moving together in sync with the motions of the bull.

As the ride started to pick up speed, the mechanical bull bucked, throwing Jack off rhythm. His grip tightened again, but this time, Y/N leaned in a little closer, her body moving with the flow of the ride in perfect harmony. Her hands rested lightly on his waist, not pressing him into the seat but instead offering an unspoken support.

“Relax,” she whispered again, her breath hot against his ear. “You’re doing fine, but you might want to loosen up a little. I’ll keep you steady.”

Jack tried to focus on her words. He forced himself to relax his grip on the bull’s handle, feeling more at ease with each passing second. His nervous energy slowly started to drain away, replaced by a growing sense of exhilaration. The more he adjusted to the rhythm of the bull, the more he could feel his awkwardness melting away, replaced by a genuine confidence he hadn’t expected. 

The bull swerved to the left, then to the right, and Jack found himself following the motion without thinking. His body was no longer stiff and rigid—it was almost as if he was moving with the bull and with Y/N behind him, sharing the ride in perfect sync. He could feel her fingers brushing against the side of his waist as she shifted her position, her breath matching the movement of the bull. It was a strange kind of chemistry, born not just from the thrill of the ride but from their proximity to one another.

Suddenly, the bull made a sharp turn, and for a moment, Jack thought he was going to lose it. But before he could react, Y/N’s hands slid from his waist to his shoulders, steadying him, keeping him from falling.

“You’ve got this, Jack!” she called over the music, her voice full of encouragement. “Just a little more.”

He felt his heart race—not from fear of falling, but from the intensity of the moment, the fact that they were working together as a team, even if it was just on a mechanical bull. Her presence behind him was more than just physical—it was reassuring, playful, and a little daring all at once. It made him feel like he could actually do this.

With a final hard buck, the bull tossed them both to the side, and Jack, unable to hold on any longer, was thrown off and landed in the inflatable pit with a soft bounce. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, before finally sitting up, grinning despite himself.

From where he lay, Jack watched Y/N, who had managed to stay on much longer. She didn’t even look winded. In fact, she was moving with such ease, Jack couldn’t help but admire her control. She shifted, adjusting her position on the bull, and the crowd erupted into cheers as she performed a smooth roll off the bull, flipping backward in a move that was so graceful, it almost looked like she was part of a dance.

As she landed in the inflatable pit with a playful flourish, Jack couldn’t help but laugh, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. Y/N grinned widely, breathless from the ride but still full of that infectious energy.

The crowd roared with applause, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh, his nerves now completely gone, replaced by a rush of adrenaline.

He turned slightly to face Y/N, who was grinning from ear to ear. “See?” she said, her voice light and teasing. “Told you you could do it.”

Jack laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I guess you were right,” he admitted, still trying to catch his breath. “You really do know how to ride this thing.”

Y/N’s grin softened into something a little more sincere as she slid off the bull and helped Jack down. “I’ve had a little practice,” she said with a wink, her eyes twinkling. “But you did pretty damn good for a first-timer.”

Jack couldn’t stop smiling, his heart still racing from the ride. As he slid off the bull, he realized that for once, he didn’t feel out of place—he was right where he needed to be. And for some strange reason, he had Y/N to thank for that. 

As the applause died down, the energy of the room shifted, but Jack didn’t mind. He was too busy trying to steady his pulse from the ride—and the effect she’d had on him.

Jack laughed, still catching his breath. “Yeah, well, I guess I had a pretty good instructor.” He looked over at her, the smile never leaving his face. "You were amazing. I don’t know how you make it look so easy.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes glinting with the same playful mischief. “It’s all about confidence,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You’ve got to trust the bull and trust yourself. And, well,” she added with a wink, “trust your partner.”

The night was in full swing now. The PBR Bar had transformed into an electric dance party, with the lights flashing in time to the music and the floor packed with people moving to the beat. The Devils’ players were a part of it all, but none more so than Jack, who had managed to find his rhythm after a few drinks and a mechanical bull ride. His teammates—Luke and Nico especially—had captured his entire bull-riding ordeal on their phones, giggling and mocking him as they relived the moment. Jack wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or amused, but one thing was clear: tonight, the team was in the mood to let loose.

As the beat pulsed through the air, the guys found themselves drawn to the dance floor. Some of the PBR girls were already moving, their energy infectious as they led the crowd through a series of fun, teasing moves. The bar was buzzing with excitement, and the atmosphere had an almost magnetic quality to it.

Jack, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time, was talking with his brother Luke and Nico, his usual nerves replaced by a certain boldness. He even found himself tapping along to the rhythm of the song, though he wasn’t quite ready to go all-in like some of the others. His attention was split between the conversation and the lively scene around him, but every so often, his gaze flickered toward the bar, where he noticed a familiar face.

Y/N was back at her post, filling out orders, chatting with patrons, but Jack noticed something—she was scanning the crowd. His heart skipped when he realized she was looking for him. 

Just as he turned back to talk to Nico, the music shifted, and an early 2000s hit blared from the speakers—“Up Down (Do This All Day)” by T-Pain. Jack barely had time to adjust to the change before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned, surprised to see Y/N standing in front of him, her smile playful and bright, as though she’d been waiting for this moment. 

“Need a dancing partner?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischievous energy, her tone inviting but full of that daring confidence Jack had come to admire.

Jack blinked, momentarily speechless, before he recovered, a grin spreading across his face. “Uh, sure. Why not?” He looked around at his brother and Nico, who were both giving him knowing looks. Nico smirked, while Luke whooped in the background, cheering for his older brother like he was rooting for a game-winning goal.

Before Jack could even second-guess himself, Y/N had already extended her hand, her fingers outstretched toward him in the middle of the crowded dance floor.

Without hesitating, Jack reached for her hand, the touch sending a rush of excitement through him. He allowed her to pull him into the sea of bodies, the beats of the song vibrating through the floor as the crowd around them moved with rhythm and energy. The space was packed, and the bodies were close, but in that moment, Jack didn’t mind. 

Y/N led him into the crowd with ease, her confidence setting the pace as she began moving fluidly to the beat, teasing the crowd with her effortless sway. Jack stumbled at first, trying to find his footing, but Y/N’s gaze never wavered from him. She was watching him intently, with a glint in her eyes that made him feel like they were the only two people on the floor.

Relax, Jack," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Follow my lead."

Jack took a deep breath as he allowed her to move against him. There was no space between them, not anymore. His eyes fell to her lips, watching them move in time with the music. The music pulsed through him, the rhythm heavy and primal. She rocked back and forth, her hips moving seductively against his.

“Mmm,” he said, his voice low and husky. His hands settled on the small of her back as she ground against him, moving her hips in time with the beat. She felt warm under his touch, soft and inviting.

"Let the music do the work," she said, her mouth finding his ear again, her tongue brushing against his skin and sending shivers down his spine.

Jack couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him at the feel of her tongue on him. His grip on her hips tightened and she laughed, her breath warm against him as she turned her head to meet his eyes. Jack held her gaze, mesmerized by the bright glint of mischief that lit up the dark depths.

Y/N pulled back slowly, her hands finding their way back to his shoulders. The song’s chorus hit, loud and pulsing through the packed dance floor. They turned, swaying in time, her body pressed against his. Jack could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, could feel her hips moving against his. His eyes were locked on hers as she raised her arms above her head and turned, swaying back into him.

“Up down do this all day,” she breathed, turning again with the rhythm. Jack watched the way her hair moved, watched the way her hips rolled seductively, back and forth. His hands found her hips again, moving in time with her as she rolled against him.

She was the only one he saw. The only one he felt. Jack didn’t know what had come over him, but he couldn’t deny it. This girl had lit something in him.

The song shifted, the beat deepening and slowing. Y/N’s hands found their way to his shoulders again, and Jack pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as they swayed in time. He felt her hand slide up his neck to tangle in his hair, her touch sending shivers down his skin. Her fingers slid along his nape, teasing the sensitive skin there, and he heard her low moan as she turned again and pressed herself against him.

Jack’s mouth found her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin. She tilted her head back and he took the opportunity to drag his lips up her throat and along the smooth line of her jaw. Her breath hitched as he nipped at the soft curve of her ear.

“You’ve got the rhythm now,” she whispered. “All day.” Jack smirked against her neck. He liked this girl. She made him feel good. She made him want.

“Want to find out?” Jack asked, his breath hot against her skin. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “What else I can do?” Y/N blinked up at him, her eyes dark and full of promise.

Y/N smiles and wraps her arms around Jack's neck, pulling him closer, her hips grinding against his as they sway to the music. Jack moans softly, feeling her warm skin against his, his body responding to her movements.

"Baby, I'm your best bet," she whispers in his ear, her tongue flicking along the curve of his earlobe.

Jack groans tossing his head back knowing how much trouble he is in. Y/N pulls away once the song ends and winks at him before returning towards the bar where it was her turn to be the bar dancer. Her moves hit with each beat of the next song. 

Jack was screwed and he knew it. He adjusted himself in his pants before going to find his brother and teammates. Y/N was trouble. And he was ready to get in. The night was still young, and so was Jack. He was ready to have the night of his life.

The Devils’ boys were the life of the party now. With their confidence boosted after their game, their usual antics returned to full effect. Jack settled in with his brother, Nico, and a few others for a round of shots. The bar had shifted gears and gone into full dance mode, the girls dancing on the bars now, and Jack found himself more than once looking toward the bar for the girl in red.

Y/N came back to their table to serve them all once again, Jack's gaze burning into her. He had to have her one way or another. Nico asks Y/N to stay and join them which she playfully pouts and says that she can't but secretly slides a paper into Jack's hand. Jack looks down and back at her and she winks, he reads it and tells the boys he's going to the dancefloor which they all nod.

Jack ends up walking to the bathroom where he finds Y/N perched on one of the vanities. His blood began to heat seeing her. Her back was arched, her breasts pushed out, her hair spread out in front of her as if waiting for him. His dick grew hard at the sight and he knew this was where the trouble started. He closed the door behind them and locked it knowing they would be here for a minute or two. His gaze never left hers. 

"You're so fucking gorgeous." Jack whispered as he moved towards her, his hands settling on her hips. She smirked and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss. Jack moaned at the taste of her, she tasted like heaven. She had her hand on the side of his face as she kissed him, their tongues tangling together as Jack ran his hands up her thighs to settle on her ass, giving it a squeeze before he slid his hands under her ass and pulled her up off the counter.

He walked to the wall and pinned her against it, her legs wrapping around his waist as they kissed. Jack pulled away for a second and looked into her eyes.

"You're incredible," he whispered as he pulled her close. 

Y/N laughs softly, her hands moving to cup his face. "You're not bad yourself." She leans in to kiss him again before pulling away with a smirk. "We shouldn't be doing this here."

"Yeah? What's stopping you?" Jack asks, his lips finding hers again. She moans softly before pulling away again.

Y/N gazes into his blue eyes. She wasn't the type of girl to hook up with a guy she just met at her job but something about Jack made her core burn with want.  She wanted him. He felt like fun, and tonight she was in the mood for fun. Jack's eyes never left hers, his blue burning into her, full of heat.

"Fuck it." She muttered before she grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt and pulling him to her, their lips crashing together in a kiss. Jack moans, his hips thrusting against her as he kisses her back.

She gasps as his hips hit her core and she pulls away from him, both of them breathing heavy.

"Giddy up cowgirl," Jack said as he ran his hands under her thighs and turned them. He pushed her up against the wall, her back to the glass wall. She nodded with a gasp as his lips met hers. Jack pushed her legs up to wrap around him again.

His hips thrust against her and she whimpered softly. She wanted him already. Jack chuckled against her lips and his hand trailed it's way down her body to her red bottoms and stirrups. Y/N pulled away and began kissing down Jack's jaw to his neck. He struggled to undo the clasps holding the stirrups to her hips. 

"Why do these have to be complicated." He groaned as Y/N giggled at his desperation. She replaces her hands with his and undos the clasps. The stirrups falling to the ground as Jack grabs Y/N's hips and pulls her off the vanity, spins her so her back is to his chest. He grinds into her and his hand finds it's way to her neck wrapping his hands around it slightly squeezing, "You feel what you do to me baby?"  He asks, his mouth finding her ear again. Y/N nods, moaning softly, the wetness between her legs growing. 

"Tell me you want it." Jack growled as he nips her earlobe, his hand on her thigh sliding up under the hem of her short shorts. Y/N gasped softly at the feel of his fingers on her sensitive skin.

Y/N moans and nods vigorously watching herself fall apart on the hockey player’s fingers. "I want to hear you say it." Jack groaned as he pressed his fingers against her, feeling how wet she was for him. He pressed his fingers into her, feeling her tighten around him. Y/N moaned and writhed on his fingers.

"Please, I want it." She moaned softly, his hand tightening on her neck as she writhed and moved against his hand.

Jack pushed his fingers into her harder and faster, hearing her moans in his ear, and that’s when he realized the wall opposite them was mirrored. He could see them. He could see himself playing with her pussy. Jack grins in the reflection, it was hot. He saw her writhing on his fingers, her head tilting back to rest on his shoulder and her breasts heaving with the quick breaths she was taking. Jack felt himself hardening more.

"Look at you," He said, his voice huskier. "Look what we're doing baby." Jack's lips found her ear again, his breath tickling his breath tickling her skin and she shivered. Y/N looked back at the reflection and she gasped softly. Jack's arms wrapped around her stomach and his free hand moved up to cup her breasts. They were heavy in his hand, full and hot as she moaned.

Jack found her nipple with his thumb and forefinger and he pinched it, his fingers moving in and out of her. Y/N gasps as she moans again. Jack smirked to himself. She looked incredible like that, writhing on his hand and fingers as he played her body. 

"Tell me I can take you," Jack muttered into her ear. Y/N gasped as he pinched her nipple again, she nodded as he slid another finger into her pussy.

"Fuck, I'm close." Jack could feel her pussy tightening on his fingers and he smirked into the reflection. He liked the sight of his hand playing with her pussy, he loved the look of her tits in his hands. Y/N whimpered. "Yeah?" he smugly asks, grinning down at her. "That's a good girl." He muttered as he picked up the speed. She gasps and nods again. Jack could see her watching the reflection, her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed.

"Come for me, Y/N." Jack demands and she moans as his fingers press into her g-spot, she comes apart on his hand, her orgasm hitting her hard and fast. Jack watched the reflection as her pussy clenched around his fingers before he pulled them out and brought them to her mouth. "Clean them like a good girl."  He muttered to her and she nods, her mouth falling open as his wet fingers slide into her mouth. She moaned as she tasted herself. She sucked them clean, licking them with precision, and Jack groaned at the sight. He pulled his fingers from her mouth and turned her to face him, he was about to kiss her when Y/N automatically dropped to her knees undoing the button to Jack's pants and pulling down his zipper. 

She couldn't contain herself. She needed to taste him and have him on her tongue. His pants fell to the floor with a soft thump as Y/N began mouthing at Jack's cock through his boxers. His soft groans fill the bathroom of the club. "Don't tease me babe." he mutters. Y/N hums as she pulls his boxers down and his cock slaps his stomach. Y/N moans, she knew he was big but goddamn. She felt herself grow even wetter just knowing he's going to stretch her out perfectly. He curved slightly to the right. His pink tip turning red and leaking precum. Jack moans and she begins placing open mouthed kisses along the base and licking the vein to the tip. She looked up at Jack to find him staring down at her, his eyes burning with lust. She proceeds to kitten lick his tip. She hums at the salty taste.  

Y/N felt Jack's hands find themselves in her hair. He was holding a fistful of her hair but not pulling yet. She took him into her mouth, sucking him in and swirling her tongue around him as she bobbed on his cock. Jack was breathing harder now. His breathing comes in sharp inhales and exhales. His hand tightens on her hair and she moans softly around his cock as he holds her head still and pumps into her mouth. The sounds of him fucking her mouth filled the bathroom. His hips thrusting in and out of her mouth, his breaths growing harsher. 

"Y/N," he muttered and she moans around him, loving how deep he was going into her mouth and down her throat. He was hitting her gag reflex, but she didn't care. She wanted this. She wanted him. Jack groaned, his hand cupping her chin and tilting her head up so she had to look at him as he fucked her mouth.

"I'm gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop." He muttered, his eyes meeting hers as she sucked him into her mouth. Y/N takes him down her throat once more and holds him there swallowing around him as he lets out a loud moan. He yanks her off and pulls her up before wrapping his hand around her throat and kissing her. The kiss was nasty.

"Only way I'm cumming is in this sweet pussy of yours." Jack muttered between kisses as he turned Y/N making her face the mirror. Her hands finding the granite surface.  

Jack's hand trailing down her back and settling on her ass, he gave it a squeeze and then slapped it hard enough to get her attention. Y/N moans at the slap as Jack trails kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Y/N's back arched slightly as Jack's tongue trails down her spine. "Oh god," She gasps, he kisses the base of her spine and moves down to kiss the top of her ass. She hears Jack spit and the squelch of him stroking himself fills the room before his hand slides up her inner thigh. She moans as she hears him rub the tip of his cock along her pussy lips. Jack growls softly and slowly pushes in making Y/N feel every thick inch. Y/N gasps softly, she was so full. He bottomed out in her with a groan as he settled there.

"You feel so fucking good," Jack muttered, he trails kisses up her spine. Y/N pushes back into him, silently asking to move. Jack obliged, his cock pulling out with a squelch before pushing back in. "Your cock feels so good," She muttered as Jack picked up the pace and he began thrusting into her harder. His hips slapping against her ass and thighs as his balls slapped her pussy with each thrust. 

They were both moaning and Jack's grip on her hips tightened. Y/N reached down and began rubbing her clit, the sensation building again and Jack watched her in the reflection. His blue eyes burning as he watched her. His eyes locked on hers in the reflection as he began thrusting harder into her. Their breathing became more labored.

"God, look how good you look taking my cock." Jack said as he grabbed a handful of Y/N's hair making her look at her reflection. She moaned at what she saw, she was pure filth and she loved it. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess as he fucked her, her legs shaking as she rubbed her clit. Her eyes were wide and blown, her cheeks burning. Jack let go of her hair as her moans picked up. 

Y/N felt like she could feel him her stomach, just rearranging her guts from how deep he was. Jack lifted her leg onto the vanity and Y/N damn near screamed. He was reaching spots in her she didn't know she had, but fuck did she love it. 

He wrapped an arm around her stomach as his other hand cupped her breast and he pinched her clit with his fingers and began rubbing it hard as he continued to fuck into her at a brutal pace. Jack leaned in close to her ear. "You like that baby?" He grunted into her ear before he bit it and Y/N came hard and loud on his cock, her pussy squeezing him in a vice as she came. Jack groaned softly as he kept fucking her until she was done, then he began fucking into her harder, chasing his own orgasm. Jack's hand tightened on her hip, his breaths growing more erratic. Y/N watched him in the mirror as he chased his orgasm.

"Fuck I'm gonna come, I need to come." He growled out. Y/N nodded. "Do it Jack. Fill me up so good." Jack let out a shaky breath, he moaned softly and pushed in one last time bottoming out in her as his cock pulsed and filled her with his cum. Jack gasped softly, leaning forward and pulling her against his chest, they watched the reflection of themselves as Jack fucked in and out of her slowly emptying his cum in her. Finally Jack pulled out and they both watched as his cum dripped down her thigh. Y/N felt full. Jack could swear he could get hard again at the sight. He shook himself out of his trance as he reached over for some paper towels and helped Y/N clean herself up before he did the same himself.  

They both redressed and Y/N tried to fix her appearance despite her curls being a bit frizy from Jack's grip. Her makeup was smudged. After fixing herself up she helped Jack fix his hair and Jack helped her put her stirrups back on.

His hands lingered on her hips as he looked at her. "What is my lipstick still smudged?" Y/N asks. He smiles and shakes his head. "I don't think this can be a one time thing." he said. She lifted an eyebrow, "Oh you get slutted out and now you're addicted?" Y/n teases . Jack growls as he pulls her close and kisses her. "Shut the fuck up before I decide to turn you around and fuck you again." She gasps at the kiss as Jack pulls away, his eyes dark and lustful. They stood there in silence for a moment.

"Well pull it out." Y/N spoke. Jack raised his eyebrows in shock, god she was insatiable. She smirked, "Your phone horndog. Give me your phone." she said. He reaches into his jeans and unlocks it before passing it to her. Y/N puts in her number and takes a selfie then hands it back. "Now whenever you're back in Nashville, call me and we can do this again." she said before pulling him down for another kiss and went to leave the bathroom. Jack stood there looking at her contact, he knew it was a great idea to come out tonight.

[httpsserene]

Me agian lmak

Can I pretty please get the one from the kink list (breeding kink)

With max, pierre,lance, alex and mick

Love you 🫶🫶🫶

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i tried my best with this one, i feel like it kind of does not eat :( happy 3k bianca xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!bipoc!reader x mv. 1 | pg. 10 | ls. 18 | aa. 23 | ms.47 cw under the cut.

refrences to marriage, pregnancy, starting a family, baby trapping, gold digging, and more. mick has a bit of a menty b about the seriousness of pregnancy. less smutty and more focused on internal monolgue.

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Pierre’s breeding kink is severe. It wasn’t as prominent with his past girlfriends—but with you, it’s like he can’t erase the thought of getting you pregnant out of his head whenever you have sex. Sometimes, he catches himself agonizing over the fact that he didn’t finish inside you, because he thinks he’s wasted an opportunity to knock you up. He hasn’t discussed this with you, though—mostly because he’s afraid that you’ll think he’s more of a weirdo than you already know he is. You’re the one who goads him into fucking you harder by begging him to fill you up, so is it his fault? It’s a miracle that you haven’t ended up pregnant from the amount of unprotected sex you two are participating in and he knows it’s disgusting to even briefly think about wanting your contraception to fail. He thinks it’s that extreme because he’s always wanted a gaggle of children, a bunch of mini-you’s and mini-him’s running around. He’s not insane enough to have you carry five of his children if you don’t want to—surrogacy and adoption are always options, too.

Max does not have a breeding kink. If he looks at you interacting with his nephews and thinks that you’re going to be the best mother to his children, that’s not proof of his so-called “breeding kink.” If he thinks he’d be thrilled to have you hand him a positive pregnancy test right now, that’s not proof of his so-called “breeding kink.” If he cradles your stomach delicately as he slowly grinds into you from behind, mumbling into your shoulder about how he can’t wait to put a baby in you, that might be a breeding kink. And, if he pretends that he’s cumming inside of you even though he’s using protection, that might be a breeding kink. Max isn’t ready to be a dad but, he knows you’d look like even more of a goddess if you were pregnant. He has dreams of you waddling around the apartment with a rounded belly, always startling awake from them drenched in sweat and rock hard. 

Alex wants to start a family with you, but he just doesn’t have a fetish about impregnating you. He thinks the term “breeding kink” is a little bizarre, sounding too animalistic for his taste. If you’re the one with the kink for being bred, Alex would try his best to satisfy that urge for you, but he’s going to sound a little awkward while doing it—there’s no way he’s going to make the phrase “I’m going to knock you up” sound attractive. His tone always comes across as unsure, the two of you pausing mid-fuck to stare at each other in silence before collapsing into hysterical laughter at just how corny that was. He thinks it’s better to continue his usual dialogue of compliments and praise, instead of trying and failing to see the allure of an impregnation kink.

If there were a kink for being sexually unattracted to impregnating you, Lance would have it. It probably stems from pregnancy scares with his exes, where the elation of possibly becoming a parent was tainted by what was an attempt to baby-trap him. It doesn’t matter what precautions the two of you take during sex, Lance wouldn’t even insinuate that he’s going to breed you—he’s traumatized, and that would ruin the pleasure of sex with you. It’s not that he thinks you’re like the women in his past who were gold diggers–he knows that you’re dating him because you love him and you aren’t chasing after his wealth. But please, save the breeding kink until after the two of you have been married for a few years.

Mick is too respectful to have a breeding kink. He thinks it’s demeaning of him to be sexually aroused by impregnating you. Matter of fact, he thinks any variation of “I want to get you pregnant” said by anyone should be considered a threat if they're not serious about it. He doesn’t understand the psychology of it—are those who have the kink aware of the commitment that is having a child, let alone the risks and difficulties of pregnancy? If people did, he thinks a lot less of them would have a breeding kink—not that he’s mansplaining, he’s just trying to be a gentleman. Do you know what Mick finds attractive? He finds being able to have an uninterrupted night of sleep with his beautiful girlfriend attractive—being well-rested and childfree, turns him on. He’s young, you’re young—these years should be spent cherishing each other before he’s mentally prepared to start taking the breeding roleplay seriously.

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[arilevenatz]

Outscored 𝟐┃C.JH

Pairing: jock! Jongho x Reader

Genre/trope: enemies to lovers au

Word Count: 25.7k (💀) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]

Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end

AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!

This is part two. Read part one here-

one | two

The project turned out better than either of them had expected, and when the professor handed back the grades, it was no surprise that YN and Jongho had scored the highest. The students in the class started whispering about them, dubbing them "the power partners."

YN, however, hated the nickname. She rolled her eyes every time she heard someone say it. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?” she muttered to Hanni one day in the cafeteria.

Hanni, ever the supportive friend, smirked. “Maybe because you and Jongho looked like an actual dream team. Admit it—you two killed that project.”

“Still,” YN huffed, stabbing her salad with unnecessary force, “I don’t like it.”

Over at the ATEEZ table, Jongho wasn’t exactly thrilled with the nickname either. He frowned as one of his friends, Wooyoung, teased him about it.

“Power partners, huh? Sounds about right,” Wooyoung said with a sly grin. “I mean, you two make a good team.”

“Shut up,” Jongho grumbled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like it either.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mingi teased, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like it. But you don’t seem to mind being around her all the time.”

Jongho scowled, but before he could retort, Yeosang, who had been silently observing, spoke up. “Let’s be real, Jongho. Do you actually dislike her, or are you just saying that because you don’t want to admit something?”

“What’s there to admit?” Jongho snapped, crossing his arms.

Seonghwa, ever the voice of reason, sighed. “You’ve been weird about her since day one. You get irritated when she’s better than you, but you also can’t stop noticing every little thing about her. Either figure it out or let it go, because we’re tired of your denial.”

“Exactly,” San added with a grin. “Test it out. See if you actually like her or if she’s just in your head because she’s always in your space.”

Jongho glared at them all, but their words stuck with him. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she had taken charge during the project, the way she had cooked for him, the way she had looked at him when she smiled after their grade was announced.

“Do I… like her?” he muttered to himself, the thought making him feel uneasy.

He shook his head, frustrated. No, it couldn’t be that. It was just… annoyance. Competition. Nothing more.

But the thought lingered, and for the first time, Jongho wasn’t so sure of his own answer.

Jongho’s dilemma had become everyone else’s entertainment. His friends, fed up with his constant denial, decided to take matters into their own hands. They came up with a "foolproof" series of tests to help him figure out his feelings.

Test 1: The Jealousy Test

Hongjoong kicked things off by walking up to YN during lunch. With his signature smirk, he leaned casually against her table and said, “YN, you’re looking gorgeous today. How about we ditch class and grab some coffee?”

Jongho, sitting across the cafeteria, froze mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hongjoong laugh at something YN said.

“Dude,” Mingi whispered, nudging him. “Why are you gripping your fork like you’re about to stab someone?”

“I’m not,” Jongho muttered through gritted teeth.

“Uh-huh,” Yeosang said, amused. “Sure looks like it.” Wooyoung winked at Jongho. “Yep, he’s pissed. Jealousy level: high.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jongho growled.

“Right,” Wooyoung said, grinning. “And I’m not handsome.”

Test 2: The Compliment Test

The next day, San decided to push Jongho’s buttons. During class, he loudly announced, “You know, YN is really something. She’s smart, funny, and have you seen her hair? Shiny like silk. I bet she smells amazing too.”

Jongho, who was sitting behind YN, audibly scoffed.

San turned around, feigning innocence. “What? You don’t agree, Jongho?”

“She’s… fine,” Jongho said flatly, avoiding everyone’s amused stares.

“Fine?” San repeated, pretending to be offended. “That’s all you’ve got? She’s perfect, and you know it.”

Jongho slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Shut up, San.”

Test 3: The Heartbeat Test

Seonghwa, ever the schemer, pulled out a fitness tracker with a heart rate monitor. “Okay, Jongho,” he said, strapping it onto his wrist. “Time to see how you react to her.”

“This is stupid,” Jongho grumbled, but he didn’t resist when Seonghwa placed the tracker on his wrist.

As YN walked into the room, Jongho’s heart rate spiked immediately. The boys stared at the tracker in silence before bursting into laughter.

“Calm down, lover boy,” Mingi teased. “You’re about to break the machine.”

Jongho yanked the tracker off, his face red. “It’s broken,” he insisted.

“Sure it is,” Yeosang said with a knowing smirk.

Test 4: The Accidental Touch

Mingi "accidentally" bumped YN into Jongho while they were walking down the hallway. She stumbled, her hand brushing against Jongho’s arm as he steadied her.

“You okay?” Jongho asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I’m fine, thanks,” YN replied, smiling politely before walking off.

The boys, watching from a distance, erupted into cheers.

“Did you see that?” Wooyoung howled. “He didn’t even yell at her!”

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I hate all of you.”

“Face it, man,” San said, clapping him on the back. “You’ve got it bad.”

Despite the teasing and their ridiculous tests, Jongho couldn’t shake the growing realization. No matter how much he denied it, his friends were right—YN had gotten under his skin, and there was no turning back.

YN paced back and forth in her dorm room, arms crossed and brows furrowed as she fumed. “What is their problem? Why can’t they just leave me alone?!” she practically yelled.

Hanni sat on the bed, nervously watching her friend explode. She held a notebook in her lap but had completely forgotten about it as she tried to calm YN down. “Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t let them get to you, YN. They’re just… being their usual chaotic selves.”

“No,” YN snapped, spinning around to face Hanni. “This isn’t just their usual chaos. They’re deliberately messing with me, and I’m done with it.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “What do they even want from me?!”

Hanni bit her lip. “I mean… maybe Jongho likes you?”

YN stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Hanni like she’d grown another head. “What? Jongho? Like me? Absolutely not.”

Hanni shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying! It’s not like he goes out of his way to mess with anyone else like this.”

YN groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. “Even if that were true, how does this make any sense? His friends are involved now too! They’re all acting like lunatics, and I’m losing my mind.”

Hanni got up, placing her hands on YN’s shoulders. “Okay, listen. You want peace, right?”

“Yes,” YN said through gritted teeth.

“Then confront them. March up to their table, call them out, and demand an answer. If Jongho or his friends don’t give you one, I’ll personally throw my coffee at Wooyoung.”

Despite her anger, YN couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “You’d really throw your coffee at Wooyoung?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hanni said with a grin. “I’d make it iced so it stings more.”

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. Tomorrow, I’m confronting them. But if I don’t get a proper answer, they’d better be prepared.”

Hanni gave her a thumbs-up. “Now that’s the YN I know. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The next day, YN stormed into the cafeteria during lunch. The usual buzz of chatter filled the room, but she had her sights set on one table: Ateez’s.

Without hesitation, she marched over and slammed her hands on the table, startling them all. The entire cafeteria seemed to quiet down as people turned to watch.

“What do you want from me?!” YN demanded, her voice firm.

The boys exchanged glances, some smirking, some looking a bit guilty. Jongho, sitting at the center, raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” he asked calmly.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” YN snapped. “I know you’ve all been messing with me. Whatever weird little game this is, stop it. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, grinning. “She’s feisty. I like her.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, giving him a look.

“Look,” YN continued, glaring at Jongho specifically, “I don’t care what your problem is. If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

Jongho leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met her gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was low and steady. “Maybe I do have something to say.”

The tension was thick as YN folded her arms, her heart racing despite her anger. “Then say it.”

For a moment, it seemed like Jongho might actually confess something, but instead, he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Not here. Later.”

YN rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, turning on her heel to leave.

Behind her, the boys chuckled, but Jongho remained quiet, his smirk fading as he watched her walk away.

The lecture droned on, the professor’s voice blending into the background as YN’s attention started to waver. She rested her chin on her hand, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. Her focus drifted from the lesson, and she casually let her gaze wander around the classroom, trying to keep herself awake.

It was an innocent habit. A quick scan of the room, her eyes briefly passing over her classmates. But when her gaze landed on Jongho, she froze.

He was already looking at her.

It wasn’t just a passing glance or idle staring. His eyes were locked onto her with an intensity that felt borderline magnetic. His dark brown eyes were sharp, unwavering, and inexplicably powerful. It was like he wasn’t just looking at her—he was seeing straight through her.

YN’s breath hitched for a moment. Her stomach churned with unease, but at the same time, something unfamiliar twisted deep within her. She hated to admit it, but he looked… ridiculously attractive. His expression was calm but unreadable, his jawline accentuated by the way he tilted his head slightly.

Why does he look like that? she thought, trying to keep her composure. And why can’t I stop looking at him?

It reminded her of that night at the red light stop—the same piercing gaze through the black helmet. But this time, it felt more personal. There was no helmet to mask his features, no physical barrier between them. Just those impossibly striking eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming despite herself. Get it together, YN. It’s just Jongho.

But her heart wasn’t cooperating. It beat just a little faster than usual, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of his stare lingering even after she looked away.

Unbeknownst to her, Jongho smirked faintly. He had caught the way her face changed, the subtle way her lips parted in surprise before she turned away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel victorious.

Interesting, he thought, leaning back in his chair. So she’s not entirely unaffected after all.

Jongho was never the kind of person to overthink emotions. He dealt with things as they came, approaching life with confidence and logic. But when it came to YN, logic didn’t seem to work anymore. Every time he saw her, his feelings became more chaotic, more confusing, and undeniably more prominent. While he couldn’t fully grasp what he felt, his actions started to show it, whether he intended them to or not.

YN was seated in her usual spot, scribbling notes furiously as the professor explained a particularly complex topic. Jongho sat a few rows behind her, his eyes drifting toward her more often than his notebook.

The class was halfway through when the professor announced a quick pop quiz. Everyone groaned, including YN, who had just run out of ink in her pen.

“Great timing,” she muttered under her breath, shaking the pen in frustration. She rummaged through her pencil case, but it was clear she didn’t have a spare.

Jongho noticed immediately. He reached into his bag, pulling out an extra pen without hesitation. Instead of handing it over himself, he nudged the guy sitting next to him, gesturing toward YN.

“Pass this to her,” Jongho said, his voice low.

The pen made its way to YN, who blinked in surprise when it landed on her desk. She glanced over her shoulder to see who it came from, her eyes landing on Jongho. He didn’t say anything, just met her gaze briefly before looking away, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Thanks,” she whispered, though he didn’t acknowledge it.

It was a small gesture, but it left YN feeling oddly unsettled. For someone who usually went out of his way to annoy her, the act of kindness felt strange—almost deliberate.

YN sat at her usual corner table, flipping through a thick reference book for an upcoming assignment. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice Jongho entering the library until he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

She looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying,” he said simply, pulling out his notebook.

She frowned. “There are plenty of other tables.”

“This one’s fine,” he replied, not looking at her as he started writing.

YN sighed, deciding to ignore him and focus on her own work. But as the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice him stealing glances at her. She tried to brush it off, thinking it was her imagination, until she reached for her coffee cup and accidentally knocked it over.

“Crap,” she muttered, quickly grabbing a tissue from her bag to clean up the spill.

Before she could fully manage, Jongho slid his notebook aside, pulling out a small packet of tissues from his jacket pocket. He handed it to her without a word.

YN paused, staring at him. “You carry tissues around?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “You never know when someone’s going to be clumsy.”

She rolled her eyes but took the tissues. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jongho smirked faintly but said nothing, leaning back in his chair as she cleaned up the mess.

As she continued working, YN couldn’t help but feel his presence more than usual. There was something different about him lately—something softer. And though she hated to admit it, it was starting to mess with her head.

Jongho, on the other hand, was quietly observing her, trying to figure out why watching her focus so intently on her work made him feel strangely… content.

It was one of those days where the world seemed to be falling apart for YN. She sat in the library, her head buried in her arms, tears streaming silently down her face. Her phone lay on the table next to her, the call from her mother still echoing in her mind. Her dad had suffered a stroke. The news had hit her like a freight train, and the helplessness of not being able to reach him was eating her alive.

She had tried everything—calling for train tickets, searching for buses, and even looking into flights—but nothing seemed to work. The distance to her hometown suddenly felt insurmountable, and it left her feeling trapped and powerless.

Hanni sat beside her, her own heart breaking at the sight of her best friend in such despair. She had never seen YN like this—so vulnerable, so broken. Hanni tried to console her, rubbing her back gently, but she knew words wouldn’t fix this.

“You need to go to him,” Hanni said softly.

“I can’t,” YN choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no way to get there.”

Hanni clenched her fists, her mind racing. If no one else could help, then there was only one person who could. She didn’t hesitate. Standing up, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the library, leaving YN behind.

Jongho and his friends were lounging in their usual spot outside the gym, the air filled with their loud chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. Mingi was tossing a football back and forth with San, while Wooyoung was busy showing off some absurd new trick with a deck of cards. Hongjoong leaned against a bench, scrolling through his phone, while Jongho sat quietly, sipping on his protein shake, his usual stoic presence anchoring the group.

The peace was shattered when Hanni stormed into the scene, her expression a mix of frustration and desperation. The group turned to her, their conversations dying mid-sentence.

“What’s this?” Wooyoung smirked, tossing the cards onto the table. “The library queen has graced us with her presence?”

Hanni ignored him completely, her eyes locking onto Jongho. “I need to talk to you.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, setting down his drink. “What is it?”

“It’s YN,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Her dad had a stroke, and she needs to get home, but there are no tickets available. She’s stuck, and she’s losing it. You have a bike. You can take her.”

The guys exchanged glances, the playful atmosphere immediately shifting into something more serious.

“And why do you think he should do it?” San asked, crossing his arms.

“Because he’s the only one who can!” Hanni snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. “I wouldn’t trust you to get her there safely. Jongho can handle it.”

Jongho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why me?”

“Because,” Hanni said, her voice softening, “for all your stupid games and ego battles, I know you care about her.”

The group went silent, all eyes on Jongho. He didn’t say anything at first, his jaw clenching slightly as he processed her words. Then, without a word, he stood up, grabbing his bag from the bench.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“The library,” Hanni said quickly.

“Alright,” he muttered, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

His friends watched as he started walking off, a mix of surprise and curiosity on their faces.

“Wait,” Wooyoung called out, smirking. “Is this your knight-in-shining-armor moment, Jongho? Should we start calling you Prince Charming now?”

“Shut up,” Jongho shot back, but there was no real heat in his tone.

As Hanni led him toward the library, she couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, there was a determined look in his eyes that gave her hope. Maybe, just maybe, YN had someone who would always be there when it truly mattered.

The library was eerily quiet as Hanni and Jongho stepped inside, the soft sound of turning pages and the occasional rustle of papers filling the air. Hanni led the way to the corner where YN was sitting, her head buried in her arms, silent tears streaming down her face.

Jongho’s jaw tightened at the sight. He didn’t hesitate. Striding up to her, he stopped just a step away and cleared his throat.

“YN,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“I’m taking you home,” he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get your stuff and pack a bag. We’re leaving now.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned by his words. Normally, she would’ve protested or argued back, but she was too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Instead, she just nodded, her movements slow and robotic as she stood and grabbed her bag.

Hanni watched the exchange with a mix of relief and curiosity. She had never seen Jongho so direct, so...caring, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Thank you,” Hanni whispered to Jongho as YN gathered her things.

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on YN the entire time. Once she was ready, he turned on his heel and led the way out of the library, his stride confident.

The ride was quiet, the hum of the bike engine filling the silence as they sped down the highway. YN sat behind Jongho, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the cool night air whipped past them.

Jongho didn’t say a word, but he drove with an intensity that YN couldn’t ignore. Despite everything—the teasing, the bickering, the games—she felt a strange sense of safety in that moment.

She rested her head lightly against his back, her tears drying as the rhythm of the bike soothed her nerves. She didn’t know what to say, and for once, she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Jongho, on the other hand, was acutely aware of her presence. Her warmth against his back, the way her arms tightened around him every time they turned a corner—it was all making his thoughts spiral. He didn’t understand why he felt so protective of her, why her tears had struck such a chord with him.

But one thing was certain: he would do whatever it took to get her home, no questions asked.

As they entered the hospital, the smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the muffled sounds of machines and quiet conversations. YN wasted no time running toward the general ward, her heart pounding as she navigated the maze of hallways. Jongho followed closely behind, her bag slung over his shoulder, his usually calm expression now tinged with concern.

When she finally reached the ward, her heart sank. Her father was lying on a general bed, his face pale and drawn, wires and monitors attached to him. Her mother sat by his side, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, exhaustion etched into her features.

“Mom,” YN called, her voice trembling as she approached. “What’s going on? Why is he here? Why isn’t he in a proper room?”

Her mother looked up, her tired eyes meeting YN’s. “The hospital is full, sweetheart,” she said, her voice heavy. “There aren’t any rooms available right now. This was the only space they had.”

YN clenched her fists, her heart breaking at the sight of her father in such a crowded and uncomfortable setting. She looked around, taking in the other patients crammed into the small ward, the lack of privacy, and the impersonal atmosphere.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “He needs proper care.”

Just as the air in the room grew heavier with worry, a nurse approached them, her voice soft but clear.

“Excuse me,” she said, looking at YN’s mother. “A private room has just been arranged for your husband. We’ll move him there shortly.”

YN blinked, her mind racing with confusion. She looked at her mother, who appeared equally surprised, and then back at the nurse.

“Wait, what?” YN asked, standing up abruptly. “How did that happen? Who...who arranged it?”

The nurse didn't say anything, YN was shocked, glancing at Jongho, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Someone already covered the charges,” the nurse said quietly.

YN’s gaze snapped to Jongho, her heart sinking and racing all at once. She stared at him, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief, confusion, and something she couldn’t quite name.

“You...you paid for it?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Jongho shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “It’s no big deal,” he said, his tone casual. “Your dad needed a proper room, and you didn’t have time to deal with all the red tape. That’s all.”

“No big deal?” YN repeated, her voice rising. She took a step closer to him, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Jongho, private rooms in a hospital cost a fortune! You can’t just—why would you even—”

He finally looked at her then, his gaze steady but tinged with something soft, something almost vulnerable. “Because you needed it,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, YN couldn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, and she wasn’t sure if it was from gratitude, anger, or something else entirely. She glanced at her mother, who was watching them with a knowing look, and then back at Jongho.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

“I wanted to,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The nurse cleared her throat gently, breaking the tension. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make sure everything is ready for the transfer,” she said before walking away.

YN stood there, her emotions a whirlwind. She wanted to thank him, to argue with him, to understand why he would do something so selfless after everything they’d been through. But instead, she just nodded, her voice trembling as she said, “Thank you, Jongho. Really.”

He gave her a small nod, his stoic facade firmly in place. But as she turned back to her father, he allowed himself a brief moment to watch her, his chest tightening with an emotion he was finally starting to understand.

The hospital lobby was quiet except for the occasional announcements over the intercom. YN sat on one of the plastic chairs, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. Jongho sat beside her, his legs stretched out, arms crossed, silent as ever. The check-up was still ongoing, and the wait felt endless.

She didn’t know why, but the weight in her chest felt unbearable. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the emotions swirling in her head. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone was sitting beside her, just… there. No judgment. No empty words of comfort. Just Jongho, quiet and solid.

Without really thinking, she spoke. “My dad is an alcoholic.”

Jongho turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything. He just listened.

“He wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her fingers clenching the fabric of her hoodie. “He used to be a good dad. He worked hard, took care of us, made stupid dad jokes. But then… something changed.”

Jongho didn’t ask what. He let her talk.

“He started drinking. At first, it was just a little. Stress, he said. Just a way to unwind. But then it got worse. He started losing jobs, coming home late, spending money we didn’t have. And the worst part was…” She swallowed. “He got angry. All the time. At everything.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.

“He never hit us,” she clarified, her voice quieter now. “But the words… sometimes they cut deeper. The yelling, the accusations, the way he would just explode over the smallest things. My mom tried to handle it, but it wore her down. And me? I—I couldn’t stay. I had to get out. That’s why I left. That’s why I stay in dorms or anywhere but home.”

Jongho exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice lower than usual, he finally spoke.

“That’s why you never go back.”

YN blinked, turning to look at him. His face was calm, but there was an edge to his voice. Like he understood more than he let on.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, filled with things unsaid.

Then, Jongho shifted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared ahead. “Must’ve been hard.”

YN let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well. Life’s not exactly a fairy tale.”

He glanced at her, his gaze softer than usual. “No. It’s not.”

Another silence. This time, it felt… different.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “You’re stronger than you think, you know that?”

YN turned to him sharply, caught off guard. “What?”

Jongho shrugged, looking away. “I’m just saying. You left. You got out. You built something for yourself instead of letting it trap you. That takes guts.”

YN didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t used to people saying things like this to her—especially not Jongho of all people.

Jongho leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. He rubbed his hands together, as if debating whether to speak or not. YN was still staring at him, her eyes searching, waiting.

“I guess… it’s only fair if I tell you something too,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual.

YN didn’t push. She just nodded, silently telling him to continue.

“My parents,” he started, pausing for a second. “They never really cared about me.”

That caught her off guard. She had always imagined him coming from a well-off family, considering the way he carried himself, the expensive apartment, the confidence.

“They weren’t bad people,” he continued, staring at the floor. “They just… weren’t really parents. Their world was business, money, social status. I was more like a project than a kid. Something to mold into their perfect successor.” He scoffed. “But I wasn’t interested in any of that.”

YN stayed quiet, letting him talk at his own pace.

“I grew up in empty houses. Big, expensive places with no warmth. I had tutors, trainers, all that. But never them.” He clenched his jaw. “They were always too busy. Too far away. And when they were around, it was all about expectations. I had to be the best. Had to be strong. Had to be exactly what they wanted. If I wasn’t, I wasn’t worth their time.”

YN felt a strange tightness in her chest. She had never heard him talk like this before.

“But my friends?” He huffed a small laugh. “They’re my real family. They were the ones who actually cared. Looked out for me. Picked fights for me when I was pissed off. Made sure I ate when I was too stubborn to admit I was hungry. Taught me how to survive outside of what my parents wanted me to be.”

He glanced at her, his expression softer now. “That’s why I’m the way I am. Why I fight, why I stick with them no matter what. They’re all I’ve got.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy but not uncomfortable.

YN finally spoke, her voice gentle. “You’re lucky, you know?”

Jongho raised a brow. “Lucky?”

She nodded. “You found people who care about you. Even if it’s not in the way you expected.”

Jongho stared at her for a long moment, then smirked slightly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

She didn’t say anything, just gave him a small smile in return. And for the first time since they’d met, they weren’t rivals, weren’t enemies. Just two people, sitting in a hospital lobby, understanding each other in a way no one else ever had.

For a moment, neither of them moved. YN had acted without thinking, driven by the strange warmth in her chest. She had never hugged him before—never even considered it. But right now, it just felt right.

Jongho stiffened, caught off guard. It's not like he was not hugged before, wooyoung and san always hug him, but this was different.

It was YN.

She held onto him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder, gripping his hoodie like she was afraid he’d disappear. She didn’t say anything, didn’t explain. She just stayed there, holding him like she needed him.

And what she didn’t know was that Jongho needed it just as much.

Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. His arms moved on their own, wrapping around her waist, holding her just as tightly.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

For once, there was no competition, no rivalry, no mind games. Just them.

Jongho closed his eyes, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. He didn’t understand his feelings completely, but he knew one thing.

He didn’t want to let go.

Jongho had never felt this out of place before. Hospitals weren’t his thing—too quiet, too sterile, too full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. But YN had dragged him inside, refusing to let him just stand outside like some outsider.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can just stand in the doorway,” she had said.

And that’s exactly what he did. Arms crossed, leaning against the frame, watching silently as YN sat beside her father’s bed, her mother beside her.

Her father was awake now, looking tired but stable. He still had that roughness to him, even as he weakly talked to YN, but it was clear he wasn’t the same man she had once feared.

Jongho didn’t say much, didn’t interfere, but YN’s mother noticed him. She had been watching him carefully, taking in his presence, the way he lingered like a silent guardian.

Then, with a warm but firm voice, she said, “You should come to dinner at our house.”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

“My daughter wouldn’t have made it here without you,” her mother continued. “Let me properly thank you.”

Jongho hesitated. Dinner? With YN’s family? That was… new. He wasn’t used to things like that.

“I don’t—” He started to refuse, but then he saw it.

The way YN was looking at him.

She wasn’t saying anything, but her expression said everything. She wanted him to say yes.

And damn it, if there was one person who could make him agree to things he normally wouldn’t… It was her.

“…Fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

YN smiled. And Jongho, despite himself, felt a little warmer inside.

Jongho had never really thought about how YN lived. He knew she stayed in the dorms, but seeing her actual home was… different.

The house wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t big enough for three people to live comfortably either. There was only one bedroom, and judging by the way her mother moved around the space so naturally, it was clear that privacy wasn’t really a thing here.

As they paced around the room, Jongho’s sharp eyes caught every little detail—the slightly worn-out furniture, the faint scent of home-cooked meals, the single bed pushed against the wall, the small study desk that was clearly YN’s. She didn’t even have her own room.

He didn’t say anything, but YN must have caught the way he was observing everything because she suddenly crossed her arms and looked up at him.

“I know it’s not as big as your fancy apartment,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice, “but you’ll have to adjust.”

Jongho scoffed, shaking his head. “You think I care about that?”

YN blinked. “Don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who has to live here. I’m just visiting.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you wouldn’t survive in a smaller home?”

Jongho leaned against the wall, smirking. “I’m saying you clearly think too much about what I think.”

YN opened her mouth, ready to argue, but before she could say anything, her mother called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready!”

The conversation was left hanging, but Jongho didn’t miss the way YN shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and walking towards the dining table.

He shook his head, suppressing a small smile as he followed her.

Dinner was… different. Not in a bad way. Just different.

Jongho had expected it to be awkward. Maybe some polite conversation, a few “thank yous,” and then he’d be on his way. But YN’s mother? She was nothing like he expected.

From the moment they sat down, she treated him like he was one of her own.

“Eat more, Jongho. You need to keep up that strength, right?” she said, piling more food onto his plate before he could even respond.

Jongho blinked. “Uh—yeah, I guess.”

YN stifled a laugh as she watched her mother practically adopt him on the spot.

“You must work out a lot,” her mother continued, eyeing his broad frame. “No wonder you’re so strong! You know, YN never brings home any friends. I was starting to think she didn’t have any.”

“Mom!” YN groaned, her face heating up.

Jongho smirked, looking at YN. “Yeah? I’m the first?”

“She never even talks about anyone,” her mother added. “But I can tell she trusts you.”

YN glared at her mom like she just exposed a national secret, while Jongho simply took a bite of his food, feeling… warm.

The conversation flowed so naturally. Her mother asked him about his studies, his life, if he was eating properly, even scolding him a little when he admitted he mostly ordered takeout. She fussed over him in a way no one ever had before.

It was strange. It was new.

But it felt… nice.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like he had a place at a family dinner. Not just as a guest, but as someone who belonged.

YN noticed. She watched the way Jongho let his guard down, how he actually smiled—a real one, not his usual cocky smirk. It made her feel happy.

He deserved this.

He deserved to feel this warmth.

After dinner, YN grabbed the trash bags and headed outside, leaving Jongho alone with her mother to clean up.

Jongho wasn’t used to doing dishes with anyone—he usually ate alone or with his friends, where everything was chaotic and someone else always handled the cleaning. But standing here, washing dishes beside YN’s mother, it felt… peaceful.

As they worked in comfortable silence, her mother suddenly spoke.

“She didn’t have a great childhood, you know.”

Jongho paused, glancing at her. He had already known that from what YN told him at the hospital, but hearing it from her mother hit differently.

She let out a soft sigh, scrubbing a plate. “I did my best, but… I still feel like I failed her.”

Jongho didn’t know what to say to that. He had never really thought about parents blaming themselves before. His own never did.

“I just want her to be happy,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “She pretends she’s strong, but she’s been through a lot.”

Jongho set down the dish he was holding, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “As long as I’m here, she will be happy.”

Her mother looked up at him, studying his expression. Then, she smiled—soft and knowing.

“I believe you.”

It had been a month since that night at YN’s home, and things between her and Jongho had… changed.

They weren’t enemies. They weren’t exactly friends either. But they had fallen into a routine—one that felt strangely domestic.

Jongho would casually grab an extra coffee for her in the mornings, placing it on her desk with a simple, “You looked half-dead, don’t read too much into it.”

YN, in return, would remind him to eat properly, sometimes even handing him snacks with a nonchalant, “I don’t want you fainting in the gym or something. That’d be embarrassing.”

They walked to class together, studied together, and even sat next to each other during lectures. If Jongho wasn’t around, people would ask YN where he was. And if YN was late, Jongho would just roll his eyes but keep the seat next to him open.

They bickered over stupid things.

“Why are you staring at me?” YN asked one day, feeling his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally were.”

“I was just zoning out,” Jongho huffed, looking away.

Or when YN handed him an umbrella on a rainy day.

“Here,” she said, shoving it into his hands.

Jongho frowned. “I don’t need it.”

“Then get soaked. Not my problem.”

“Then why’d you bring me one?”

“You're too noisy. Shut up and take it.”

They acted like they were just tolerating each other, but everyone else saw the truth.

They were basically a couple.

Just two idiots too stubborn to admit it.

YN felt… different.

It wasn’t something she could explain easily, but it was there—a strange pull toward Jongho. Like a force of nature she had no control over.

And, of course, Hanni wouldn’t shut up about it.

“You’re in love,” Hanni declared one day, arms crossed as if she had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

YN, horrified, immediately shut her down. “Shut up. No, I’m not.”

“Oh, really?” Hanni smirked. “Then why do you always look out for him?”

“I just—he’s stupid sometimes, I need to make sure he doesn’t die.”

“And why do you get sad when you don’t see him?”

“That’s… that’s normal! I see him all the time, it’s weird when he’s not there.”

“And why do you get weird feelings when you’re together?”

YN froze.

Because that was true.

She did feel weird things when they were together—like her heart deciding to sprint for no reason, or how she found herself staring at him longer than necessary. She noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his voice was deeper when he was tired, and how his hands were always warm even when it was freezing outside.

Oh no.

Hanni grinned, seeing the realization dawn on YN’s face. “Yeah. You’re so in love it’s embarrassing.”

YN groaned, covering her face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Jongho was losing his mind.

It started subtly—little things he noticed during their daily interactions. Like how small her hands were compared to his when she shoved a snack into his palm. Or how short she was, always tilting her head up to glare at him when they bickered.

And then it got worse.

One day, she was rambling about something, waving her hands dramatically, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to squish her cheeks.

Another time, she got mad at him over something stupid—probably about stealing her drink—and the way her nose scrunched up made his fingers twitch. She looked like an angry little kitten, and he… he was the big bear who wanted to scoop her up and keep her in his arms.

“Are you even listening?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

No. No, he wasn’t.

Because his brain was too busy fighting the cuteness aggression building up inside him.

So instead of answering, he just reached out and flicked her forehead.

“Hey!” she whined, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

Jongho smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. Just felt like it.”

If only she knew it was to stop himself from doing something even worse. Like pinching her cheeks until she smacked him.

He was doomed.

Like when they had gone out for ice cream, and YN, being herself, had managed to make a mess.

She was eating too quickly, and suddenly, a small drop of melted ice cream landed on the tip of her nose.

Jongho stared.

She blinked up at him, confused. “What?”

His grip on his cone tightened.

Was she real? Was this actually happening? Was she actually standing there, looking up at him with big eyes, ice cream on her nose, completely unaware of how devastatingly cute she was?

He exhaled sharply, leaned in, and—

Flick!

She yelped as he wiped the ice cream off with his thumb, scowling at her. “You’re a mess.”

She pouted. “You could’ve just told me.”

Yeah, well, if he had told her, he would’ve also had to admit that he was two seconds away from pinching her cheeks and calling her cute.

So no, thanks.

Or like when YN had forgotten her hair tie, so she dug into her bag and pulled out a tiny, pastel pink hair clip.

Jongho watched as she struggled to keep her hair out of her face with that.

The tiny clip was fighting for its life against her hair, barely holding anything in place. She kept adjusting it, pushing stray strands away with a frustrated huff.

Jongho’s jaw clenched.

It was too much.

The stupid little hair clip, her pouty concentration face, the way she kept huffing when the strands fell back—

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, plucked the clip from her hair, and smoothly tied it up with his own black hair tie which he conveniently had on his wrist.

She blinked at him. “...Oh.”

He crossed his arms. “There. Now you won’t look dumb.”

Her lips parted in offense. “Excuse you! My clip was working just fine—”

Jongho just flicked her forehead again and walked off before she could see the stupid grin threatening to break out on his face.

She was going to kill him one day.

Or worse—he was going to fall harder.

Jongho had always paid attention to the little things. It was something he’d always done, but now it was a bit more… personal.

The way YN would subtly try to avoid the topic of her birthday when it came up, how she’d always change the subject or even just shut it down completely. He never understood it until he saw it written in the corner of her notebook one day, almost as if it was an afterthought—her birthday was coming up.

Something about that made him pause.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she never celebrated it, why she never talked about it. It bothered him more than he realized. No one should feel like that about their birthday. It was supposed to be a day to feel special, to be loved.

But for YN… it didn’t seem that way at all.

YN stepped into Jongho's apartment, not knowing why he suddenly called her, but what she saw made her stop in her tracks. The entire place was decorated—soft, pastel colors, fairy lights hanging delicately from the walls, and small touches of things she liked scattered around the room. It felt like a scene straight out of one of those Pinterest boards she had secretly admired but never thought she'd experience herself.

On the table was a small cake, decorated with cream and flowers—exactly the way she liked it. But what really caught her eye was the little crown placed beside it.

Jongho stood by the door, hands in his pockets, nervously watching her reaction. His heart pounded as he waited for her to say something.

"Jongho..." YN started, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in the effort he’d put into everything. "What is all this?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed now that she was actually here. "Well... I know you don't like big celebrations, but I thought you'd like something a little special, you know? Something just for you."

She blinked, stunned. "But... this is all for me?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's your birthday, right?" Jongho said casually, though there was a small, nervous grin tugging at his lips.

YN couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her own. She looked around, noticing the little details—soft cushions, a few of her favorite books stacked neatly on the shelf, the little crown, and the cake that seemed to have her name written all over it.

"Why the crown?" she asked, half-laughing, half-teary-eyed.

Jongho shrugged, a little embarrassed. "You deserve to feel like a queen today. No one should ever feel like they don't deserve to be celebrated."

That did it. YN's heart swelled, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. The thoughtfulness behind everything hit her hard. Her birthday had always been a quiet, unnoticed day, but here Jongho was, treating her like she was the most important person in the world.

He stepped forward, holding out the little crown. "Here, your majesty."

YN laughed softly, taking it from his hands and placing it on her head, feeling a warmth in her chest she hadn't expected. "This is... this is too much," she whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"You deserve it," Jongho said, his voice low but warm, his eyes locking with hers in that moment. "Happy Birthday, YN."

Her heart skipped a beat, her emotions rushing to the surface. "Thank you," she whispered back, her voice cracking slightly. She looked at him, her gratitude overflowing. "Thank you for seeing me."

Jongho stepped a little closer, the two of them standing there amidst the cozy decorations, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a warm hue on their faces.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, then took a step back, a playful grin appearing on his face. "Now, let’s eat this cake before I eat all of it myself."

YN laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time, her heart full of warmth from the little moments that had made this birthday unforgettable. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this special—this loved.

Jongho had done it. He had turned her quiet day into a celebration of everything she had ever wanted.

After cutting the cake and sharing a few playful bites, Jongho leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, birthday girl, close your eyes."

YN raised an eyebrow, suspicious but amused. "Why?"

"Just do it," he said, rolling his eyes but still holding that teasing grin.

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, sitting still as she waited. She could hear him moving around the room, the sound of rustling paper and something being set down on the table in front of her.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice a little softer than before. "You can open them now."

YN opened her eyes—and immediately, her breath hitched.

In front of her was something she never expected but instantly adored—a bouquet of books, beautifully wrapped in soft-colored paper with a ribbon tied neatly around them. Not just any books, but ones she had casually mentioned wanting to read, ones she had stared at in the library but never picked up, ones that he must have noticed her lingering over.

She blinked rapidly, her fingers tracing over the spines as if making sure they were real. "Jongho… you—"

"You like them?" he asked, voice steady but eyes betraying a hint of nervousness.

YN couldn't speak. The warmth in her chest was overwhelming, emotions bubbling up faster than she could control. Instead of answering, she got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

Jongho stiffened for a second, but then, slowly, he relaxed into the hug, his arms coming around her just as tightly.

"You idiot," she mumbled against his hoodie, voice muffled but full of emotion. "This is the best gift ever."

Jongho let out a small chuckle, resting his chin lightly on her head. "Good," he said, a smile forming on his lips. "Because I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was lame."

YN shook her head against him, gripping onto his hoodie tighter. "It's not. It’s perfect."

And for a while, they just stayed like that, wrapped up in warmth and something unspoken between them—something soft, something real. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew.

They were falling, and this time, neither of them wanted to stop.

Jongho felt his heart race when he saw the small blush creeping up her cheeks, her eyes glistening with emotion as they met his. Her gaze lingered, vulnerable yet trusting, and something inside him clicked. All the words he'd been holding back, all the feelings he couldn't quite define-they came rushing forward.

Before he could even think, he cupped her face gently with his hands, tilting her chin up just slightly. She didn't pull away, her breath hitching as she stared at him, her lips parted slightly in confusion.

Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. His heart pounded in his chest as the moment stretched between them-gentle, slow, and full of everything they had been holding back.

YN's breath caught as she froze for a moment, her mind catching up with what was happening. But then, instinctively, she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his chest.

The world around them seemed to disappear as everything fell quiet, just the warmth of their bodies and the undeniable pull between them. Jongho's hand slid to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, and YN's fingers clenched slightly around his hoodie, her heart thumping in her chest.When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Jongho looked down at her, his thumb brushing her cheek as he caught his breath.

"YN," he whispered, his voice rough, "I... I don't know what this is, but I can't stop thinking about you."

YN's heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks still flushed. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, the way his hands were slightly trembling as they stayed gently on her face.

"I think I feel the same," she whispered back, her voice just above a breathless murmur.

His hands were still cradling her face as if she were something fragile—something precious. His usual sharp gaze was softer now, almost uncertain, but there was something firm in the way he held her.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I know that when you’re not around, I don’t like it. And when you are, I feel… lighter. Like I actually want to be better.”

YN’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breath catching at his words.

“I want to stay with you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “If this is what love is, then let it be.”

Her eyes widened slightly, emotions swirling inside her. He was never the type to say things without meaning them, never the type to hesitate. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, vulnerable and real.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest, something overwhelming yet comforting. Her hands slowly reached up, resting over his.

“Then let it be,” she whispered back, her lips curling into the softest of smiles.

Jongho exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a second, just taking in the moment.

Neither of them needed to say anything more. They had already said everything that mattered.

After his confession, YN quickly realized one thing—Jongho was insanely clingy. Not in the physical sense, no. He wasn’t the type to smother her with hugs in public or demand constant attention. But mentally? Emotionally? He was all over her.

Her phone never knew peace.

Jongho: Where are you?

Jongho: Why aren’t you answering?

Jongho: You’re not dead, right?

Jongho: Hanni said you left the library 15 minutes ago. Where are you now?

And if she didn’t respond fast enough? Oh, he’d find a way. One time, he literally called Hanni when YN ignored his messages during a movie marathon.

“You’re ignoring my texts,” he accused when she finally picked up.

“I was watching a movie,” she sighed.

“Oh,” he paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… it’s a movie?”

“Tell me next time.”

YN groaned, but deep down, she found it cute—annoying, but cute.

Another time, she was just grabbing a coffee on campus, and before she could even sit down, she received a message:

Jongho: You didn’t tell me you were going to the café.

She blinked. Looked around. And there he was, sitting at a distance, sipping his own drink while watching her like a hawk.

She marched up to him. “Are you spying on me?”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. “I was here first. You should’ve told me you were coming.”

YN threw her hands up. “I didn’t know I needed permission to get coffee!”

“You don’t,” he said smoothly, “but if you told me, I would’ve gotten your order ready.”

And the worst part? He actually did. Because as she was about to go order, the barista handed her a drink. “Your boyfriend already paid for it.”

Jongho just shrugged at her bewildered expression, sipping his own coffee like nothing happened.

Yeah. He was absolutely clingy. But the way he looked after her, worried for her, cared for her in ways she didn’t even realize she needed?

She wouldn’t change it for the world.

You could never stay mad at him. No matter how much he annoyed you with his endless messages, his possessiveness, or his constant need to know where you were—one look at his big, boba-like eyes, and you were done for.

And he knew it.

That slight smile he had whenever he looked at you? It was because he knew you couldn’t resist him.

Whenever you pouted at him, complaining about how clingy he was, he’d just chuckle, pull you into one of his signature big bear hugs, and squeeze you tight. You always acted like you wanted to escape, but deep down, you never really tried.

And when you were alone? Oh, Jongho had no shame.

He’d squish your cheeks, stretching them like you were some kind of stress toy. “Why are you so cute, huh?” he’d mutter, poking at your puffed-up cheeks.

“Jongho, stop—”

Squish.

“Jongho!”

Squish.

And the moment you’d glare at him, trying to act serious, he’d just lean in and kiss you, completely ignoring your protests.

“Yah—”

Another kiss.

“Stop—”

Another.

And by the time you finally gave up, he’d smirk, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “You talk too much sometimes.”

But you couldn’t even be mad. Not when he was him. Your annoying, possessive, clingy, yet completely lovable Jongho.

Though you and Jongho never officially announced your relationship at college, he made it clear as day that he was yours—and that you were his.

And he had his ways of making sure everyone knew.

Jongho had always been intimidating, but after you two got together, his death glares became ten times worse. If a guy so much as looked at you for too long, Jongho would lock eyes with them from across the room. No words needed—just a single, cold stare, and the poor guy would scurry away like a frightened puppy.

Hanni once joked, "You don't need a security system, girl. Just let Jongho sit outside your dorm and scare people away."

Jongho wasn’t big on PDA, but when it came to making a statement, he had his own subtle ways. A hand on your lower back when guiding you through a crowd. A strong arm thrown over the back of your chair when another guy was getting too friendly. Holding onto the strap of your bag like it was a leash when you were walking together, just so he could keep you close.

The message was clear: Don’t even think about it.

His friends suffered the most. Jongho was always bringing you up in conversation, even when it wasn’t relevant.

“Jongho, pass me the notes.”

"YN already explained it to me. You should ask her—she’s smarter than all of us.”

"Jongho, do you want to come to the gym later?"

"Nah, I'm meeting YN. She gets grumpy if she doesn’t see me enough."

"Jongho, stop flexing your relationship, man—"

"I’m not flexing. I just have a girlfriend who happens to be better than yours."

“…None of us have girlfriends.”

"Exactly.”

The moment that really sealed it?

One day, some guy—clearly new to the college—had the audacity to flirt with you in the cafeteria. Nothing serious, just casual small talk.

Jongho, who had been sitting a few tables away, calmly stood up, strolled over, and without a word, took the spoon from your hand and ate your food from your spoon and even drank water from your cup.

You nearly choked.

The guy looked confused. Hanni was losing her mind in the background. Jongho? He just stared down at the poor guy, smirking slightly.

"Oh, were you saying something?" sitting down, he asked, his voice low and smooth, his arm resting on the back of your chair.

The guy got the message.

Jongho had never been the type to update his Instagram often. His feed was mostly filled with scenic shots—sunsets, cityscapes, the occasional black-and-white aesthetic post. He rarely posted selfies, let alone anything personal.

But now? Now his Instagram was practically a shrine dedicated to you.

It started subtly. A blurry candid of you sipping coffee at a café, captioned: “Not the coffee, just the person.”

Then came the next one—a picture of you reading in the library, chin resting on your palm, completely unaware of the photo being taken. “Genius girlfriend era.”

And then it became a habit.

— A mirror selfie of him at the gym… with you in the background, struggling with a dumbbell. “She’s trying.”

— A plate of food with your hands reaching for it. “I don’t get to eat in peace anymore.”

— A side-profile shot of you laughing. No caption. Just a red heart emoji.

Jongho wasn’t dumb. He knew there were girls lurking in his DMs, waiting for an opening. So he made sure they saw exactly why they had no chance.

Every post? Tagged @yn2001. Every story? Tagged @yn2001. Even in the comments, when someone asked, “Where’s this?”, he’d reply, “With @yn2001.”

Even his bio, which had previously been empty, now had:

“Taken. @yn2001.”

One day, he posted a picture of your intertwined hands, your fingers laced together on top of his lap. No faces, no explanation—just that.

And the caption?

"Mine.”

The DMs? Silent. The message? Loud and clear.

You were never the type to crave attention. Growing up, you had learned to blend into the background, to be self-sufficient. No one had ever really gone out of their way to make you feel special.

But Jongho? He changed everything.

The way he made it so obvious that you were his. How he walked beside you, making sure you were always safe. How his arm would find its way around your shoulders in crowded hallways. How he’d subtly block anyone who got too close.

The Instagram posts were one thing, but it was the little things that made you feel like a princess.

Like when he casually handed you his hoodie when you complained it was cold—without a word, just draping it over you like it was second nature. Or when he adjusted the straps of your bag because “It’s too loose, you’ll hurt your shoulder.”

Or how he always paid attention. If you so much as mentioned craving something, you’d find it mysteriously appearing in your dorm the next day. Kinder Joy? There. Your favorite drink? Waiting for you in class.

And the way he looked at you.

Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

For the first time in your life, you were someone’s priority. And you loved it.

The winter air was biting as you arrived at Jongho’s apartment for the night. He had asked you so politely—almost shyly—that you couldn’t say no.

After dinner, which you cooked while he hovered behind you like a baby bear, occasionally wrapping his arms around your waist or resting his chin on your shoulder, you both settled in for the night.

Jongho sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you went to do your skincare routine in the bathroom. You were halfway through when you felt his presence at the door.

"What are you even doing?" he asked, arms crossed as he watched you pat a serum onto your face.

"Skincare," you replied, giving him a pointed look.

He scoffed. "Looks like sorcery to me."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed an extra headband, walking over to him. "Sit."

He raised an eyebrow. "No way."

"You asked me to stay over. This is part of the deal," you said with a smirk.

With a grumble, he let you pull him onto the bathroom stool. You pushed back his hair with the headband, suppressing a giggle at how unexpectedly adorable he looked with it on.

"Don't laugh," he muttered, glaring.

"I'm not!"

You squeezed some cleanser onto your hands and started rubbing it into his face. He blinked rapidly at the sudden sensation, grabbing your wrist.

"What the hell—"

"Relax, big guy. Just let it happen."

He huffed, but let you continue. His face was surprisingly soft under your fingertips, and for a moment, you were lost in the closeness of it. Jongho, however, was glaring at his reflection.

"Feels weird," he grumbled.

You chuckled. "You’ll thank me later when your skin is glowing."

After washing off the cleanser, you moved on to toner and serum, explaining each step. Jongho just sat there, staring at you with those soft, unreadable eyes.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away.

But his ears were red.

By the time you finished with moisturizer, he was pouting. "Feels sticky."

You flicked his forehead. "Beauty is pain."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you when you applied lip balm on him, his lips parting slightly at the contact.

"All done," you declared, stepping back to admire your work.

Jongho looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his face slightly. "Huh… not bad."

"Told you."

He turned to you, a sly grin forming. "So if I have good skin now, does that mean I get more kisses?"

You gaped at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Jongho!"

But he was already pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into you.

"Thanks, princess," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

And just like that, your heart was gone.

You sighed, sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, your fingers idly playing with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. He had just finished brushing his teeth, stepping into the room with his usual confident ease. His damp hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp eyes softened when they landed on you.

He tilted his head, noticing your hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I sleep weird.”

Jongho blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “What do you mean weird?”

“I mean…” You sighed again, fidgeting with your hands. “I move a lot in my sleep. I might—” You glanced at him briefly before looking away. “I might throw my leg over you. Or shove my feet under yours. Or, you know, hug you.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

For a second, he just stared at you before a small, amused scoff left his lips. “That’s it? I thought you were about to say something serious.”

You frowned. “It is serious.”

He crossed his arms, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “What, you think I’m gonna throw you off the bed?”

“No, but—”

“You can do whatever you want. It won’t bother me.”

That was a lie. Jongho never liked being hugged in his sleep. He never liked people clinging to him or invading his space while he rested. It had always felt suffocating, and he never hesitated to shove someone off if they got too close.

But you? You were different.

So when you eventually curled up beside him, shifting in your sleep and unconsciously draping your arm over his waist, he didn’t push you away. When your leg tangled with his, searching for warmth, he let it be. And when, in your sleep, you tucked your cold feet under his, he only let out a small huff, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

What surprised him the most was the way he naturally responded. Without thinking, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles into your skin through the fabric of your sweatshirt.

You sighed in content, unconsciously burrowing into his chest. Jongho glanced down at you, his lips twitching at the sight of you so comfortably nestled against him.

If it were anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, but with you…

With you, he found himself pressing a lazy, almost absentminded kiss to your forehead before resting his chin atop your head.

Yeah. He loved this.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[fandomnerd9602]

Grim Yearning

Wednesday Addams x Wick!Reader

Part Two of the Grim Series

You never thought you would find yourself connecting with anyone let alone two people. When you met Wednesday, something just clicked for you. And through her, you met her roommate Enid Sinclair. Enid was a perky girl around your age - a werewolf who had yet to learn how to transform. Her positive energy was a direct contrast to Wednesday’s. Your attitude was more quiet with a little bit of snarkiness.

When you weren’t studying or doing homework, you found yourself at a nearby shooting range. Something about firing the 9mm Pit Viper and effortlessly reloading another magazine always cleared your head. The force behind each bullet fired was almost as thrilling as being in the presence of Wednesday and Enid.

You found yourself wandering the grounds of Nevermore, wondering about the deathly girl in black who had stopped your heart when a familiar voice spoke up in hushed tones. You recognized the perkiness in her voice.

“Oh come on! (Y/N)’s so cute!” Enid spoke up.

You snuck around and spotted Enid talking with Wednesday. Despite being a werewolf, her sense of awareness was slightly off. Neither she nor Wednesday could pick up that you were hiding behind a stone wall, intently listening in, using the hearing and stealth techniques your father taught you.

“Drop it Sinclair” Wednesday spoke up.

“Why? It’s so obvious you like Wick!”

“I said drop it.” Wednesday responded, “I am a child of woe. I feel nothing as childish as love”

“Your secret’s safe with me” Enid said with a little laugh, “I’m as sure of it as I know (Y/N) feels the same for you”

That werewolf girl was very observant, you’d give her that. A small smile made its way across your face. You had been trained to be a weapon for most of your childhood. It felt good to feel something as normal and so fulfilling as love.

You quietly snuck away, crushing a little twig on your way out. Wednesday didn’t pick it up but Enid sure did. A little smile formed on the blonde girl’s face, in truth, she had picked up your scent the moment you snuck up.

You made your way to one of the nearby graveyards on a mission. Your father told you about a certain flower that bloomed near graveyards in this area. You found it after walking past a couple rows of tombstones: the black petunia. So simple, elegant and deathly black. It matched Wednesday to a T.

You grabbed a handful of black petunias and made your way across the school campus towards Wednesday and Enid’s dorm room. From a distance you could spot Wednesday playing the cello from the balcony. It sounded so haunting and gothic. To you it was the most beautiful composition of all, played by your angel of death.

You knocked on the dorm door. Enid answered quickly. The most intense and happy grin made its way across her lips.

“I knew it!” she whispered before ushering you and your dog Dusk into the room.

Wednesday walked in from the balcony, her eyes going wide at seeing you standing there with a bouquet of black petunias.

“Hey” you gave her a small smile.

“Hello” she responded, a slight little bounce in her step as she balanced on her feet a little. Probably for the first time in her life, Wednesday was nervous.

“I-I got these for you” you tried to answer with a calm face. “I saw these black petunias and I thought of you Wednesday”

“Black petunias” she states with a little quiver on her lip, “they only grow in-”

“Graveyards. Yeah. I-I like you Wednesday. A whole lot”

“I have the same admiration for you as well, Wick” she adds, “deeply”

Wednesday walks up to you, throwing the bouquet on her bed before wrapping her arms around your shoulders and hugging you tight. This emotion felt so new to her. If she was going to experience it with anyone, she’s glad it was with you.

“Oh look at you two!!!” Enid exclaims as she observes, “it’s so adorbs!!“

You give Enid a little acknowledging nod. Deadly would be the word to describe you and Wednesday. But yes, you suppose you and her were…adorbs.

News had spread of a vicious mauling outside of the school’s grounds. Some would’ve said a wild tiger or a bear even. But you and Wednesday knew better. You had studied ancient texts in your free time. It was a Grim.

Tags @lifespectator @henkermen @blindedyogurt @supercorpdanbeau @jacenradio7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @moonlit-imagines @russianredassassin @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @iiconicsfan25 @orion-owls @marveldcfandom @scarletquake-n7

[djarins-cyare]

I thought it would be harder to pick and then I saw "Be-All And Endor pegging bonus scene" and anyway here I am. 😍

Ahaha, I hoped someone would ask about this one from my WIP folder! 🧡💚

This is set several months after the main story ends. My plan was – and still is (eventually) – to write some random scenes from Din and Reader’s future in lieu of a sequel.

Several readers commented they would’ve liked to have read the scene in the final chapter where Reader tells Din to go shower and meet her in their cabin to cross off another item on their “things that’ll happen eventually” list, which suggests some type of ass play for Din, based on an earlier comment in chapter 37 where he indicates he’d be interested in trying it.

As usual, the smut slowed me down when I started drafting it. Honestly, I don’t think I know enough about pegging to adequately describe it, so I put it on the back burner until I could do sufficient research.

That said, when I got your ask, I went back and checked how much I had already written, and I realised I actually have a decent-length scene leading up to the smut… it just fades to black (again) when they’re about to start.

So, Kate, since it’s you and you definitely deserve a reward for all your cheerleading of Be-All (for which I’m forever grateful), I’ve decided to give you not just a snippet but the whole of the 1k+ word scene that I’ve got so far. I’m not posting it on AO3 yet – I’ll do that later once I’ve written the second half of it and converted the AO3 version into a series – so for now, please enjoy this Tumblr exclusive bonus content!

⚠️ Please note the following contains heavy spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read the original story!

Be-All And Endor Bonus Chapter (excerpt): The Solace

Rating: Mature (18+) Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Word count: 1,150 Tags/warnings: References to sex, anal play, pegging (nothing explicit); brief reference to a past attempted SA; the dildo is referred to as a cock; some swearing and explicit language; one (1) Mando’a insult

You find the toy tucked away in the back of your drawer, hidden from prying eyes for weeks. Even though Din knows you acquired it before leaving Glavis, you’d insisted on keeping it a surprise until you could finally try it out.

But things had got in the way.

His painful Darksaber injury, worse than Nantoogen’s concussive blaster bolt on Endor. His discovery of that mythosaur marker in Kolzoc Alley, faded and ominous. His bitter disappointment at reaching the lowest level of the substrata and finding it empty. The thrill of uncovering hastily painted coordinates that revealed his tribe’s new location.

Just like that, your fun and games were on hold.

In the weeks since, everything that’s happened has overwhelmed you both – physically and emotionally – for better and for worse. The covert, the recognition of your union, your shiny new helmet… Din’s exile.

The Armorer’s final words and your defiant retort still ring tragically in your ears almost a day later, as if your helmet has trapped them there:

“You have not yet sworn the Creed; therefore, you are not an apostate. You may stay.”

“But I have sworn riduurok to Din Djarin and the gai bal manda to Grogu; therefore, I am a wife and mother. I am loyal to my clan and could never abandon them for a tribe that exiles one of its own despite his wish to atone. You taught me that loyalty and solidarity are the Way, and I will honour that. So, I thank you for your offer, but nariti lo’shebs’ul.”

You can still feel the sting of tears on your cheeks, still see Din’s dejected body stiffen as you told his alor to shove her offer up her ass. Amid the grief, you sensed a spike of shock – even pride – flicker within him for a fleeting moment.

Now back in hyperspace’s safe and superluminal embrace, you both need the relief of the release you’re about to partake in. But he needs it more.

He still hasn’t really talked. Not properly – not like you know he can. He’s been barely responsive, stiff, twitchy, and every subtle quiver speaks of his deep turmoil. Apostate. It’s an awful label. His inner storm has been yours to share through your connection, but you’ve resisted. You saw his need for solitude on Anantapar, so you’d granted him several hours alone in the cockpit – helmet on.

After several failed check-ins for food and comfort, it was to this suggestion alone that Din had responded. Once you’d assured him that Grogu was asleep in his cubicle, he’d immediately risen from his chair, awaiting instructions. You’d told him to shower and to meet you in the cabin without his helmet, where you’d unveil your purchase from Glavis.

Now, with a determined breath, you face the final hurdle: figuring out how to attach the damn thing.

You’d liked the look of the ‘strapless’ versions, but the vendor had advised that a strap would be best. More stability and a better experience for your husband, she’d insisted. Fewer distractions for you while it’s his turn, she’d winked. Fair point. You’re not sure you could concentrate solely on his pleasure with something nestled inside your pussy, rubbing your G-spot to distraction.

It takes a few minutes of fiddling, but you successfully secure the harness. It’s actually more comfortable than it looks.

You turn back to the drawer and run your fingers along the dildo’s length, marvelling at the silky texture. It cost a kriffing fortune, so it’d better be worth the credits. A snort escapes you at the thought that Nantoogen’s bounty reward paid for this. It’s almost poetic that the man who tried to sexually assault you has now purchased you your very own cock.

Once it’s nestled securely within the harness, you spend several minutes pacing around the cabin, watching it bob along in front of you. Kriff, you’re oscillating between nervous, curious, and aroused. It makes you feel… powerful.

You and Din have an established sexual dynamic, though, and he’s always in control, even when he’s seemingly not. He has also previously rejected the idea of using toys in the bedroom, fully confident that (for you, at least) he can do better with his own dick. But as much as he’s enjoyed taking your fingers in his ass on occasion, he’d eventually agreed that something more substantial would guarantee him a more gratifying time.

Given his general dislike of sex aids, you’d asked the vendor for a realistic dildo to match your skin tone, especially since you know he’s been attracted to men in the past. Hopefully, this will help him feel less like he’s having something plastic shoved up him and more like he’s enjoying someone’s body.

With the trusty Tatooine lube at the ready on the nightstand, you strip off everything but your bra and your new appendage, then perch on the edge of the bed and wait.

You’re so accustomed to every rattle on the Crest by now that even his bare feet can’t hide his ascent up the ladder, and your pulse quickens in readiness. You stand, wanting to present him with the full spectacle upon entry to the cabin.

Din steps through the door as it slides open, but he stops dead the second he catches sight of you. His uncovered gaze plummets straight down to your cock, eyes widening in surprise, brows rising in tandem with a sharp inhale.

He swallows, staring… staring…

You gulp, hoping… hoping…

And then you see it – the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s nothing compared to the wide grin you’re used to seeing on your husband’s face, but you reach out with your mind, trying to decipher that almost-smile. There’s still a heavy soup of grief, but there’s more now, too. Intrigue, anticipation… a hint of excitement. Sexual excitement.

“Do you like it?” you venture, gently steering him toward those positive feelings.

He swallows again and nods, still staring. “It looks… real.” Taking a careful step forward, he comes within touching distance yet still only uses his eyes. “I like how real it looks.”

A rush of relief pulses through you. Those credits were well spent.

With a grin, you comment, “Well, it doesn’t have balls, but I don’t need those to fuck you. My metaphorical ones are big enough.”

Din’s eyes finally rise to meet yours as he steps even closer, the smirk on his lips now more obvious, and you catch another spike of his pride over how you handled your exit from the covert. “I fucking love you,” he declares, pressing a hard, grateful kiss to your lips before pulling back abruptly. “Where do you want me?”

“On your knees, on the bed,” you command, knowing full well that this is an illusion of power he’s giving you. “I wanna see that tight little ass in the air.”

His smirk grows. “Yes, Sir.”

Mando’a translations, in case they aren’t obvious:

riduurok [REE-doo-rok] – marriage agreement

gai bal manda [guy bal MAN-dah] – adoption ceremony (lit. “name and soul”)

nariti lo’shebs’ul [nah-REE-tee loh-SHEBS-ool] – shove it up your ass

Notes:

“Trusty Tatooine lube” is a reference to the scene in the final chapter that I mentioned above – Reader picked some up before they left, which is why she suggested that particular activity as soon as they’d left the planet.

In case anyone’s forgotten, Din tells Reader in chapter 30 (after their shower sex) that whatever sex aids she used before he came along have no place in their relationship, indicating his general dislike of sex toys. I don’t think he’s a prude, but this version of Din has a preconceived notion that he needs to be the best lover he can be without any ‘cheating’. Reader could easily talk him into using toys on her, of course, simply by educating him a little better – just as she’s done regarding other things he’s been somewhat naive about. But here, she decides to respect his prior avoidance and give him an experience that feels as ‘real’ as possible. Perhaps this will help him realise that toys might be fun for her, too!

Reader also refers to having “seen his need for solitude on Anantapar”, which, as a reminder, refers to when he had a teensy bit of an emotional breakdown at the tail end of their honeymoon in chapter 38.

I adapted the lovely insulting Mando’a phrase from a previously existing phrase in Karen Travis’s novel ‘Order 66’ – Kovid lo’shebs’ul narit – which is supposed to mean ‘shove your head up your ass’, but the grammar is a little off. So I put the verb in the correct place and properly conjugated it, then removed the word for ‘head’ (it doesn’t need an object as she’s just said the word “offer”, so it’s clear what she’s talking about).

Holy crap, I’m scared now I’ve put this up. This is the first new Be-All content since July 2023! 😭 Fun timing, though, because I have another two Be-All bonus posts coming out in the next few days as the fic is about to hit a milestone, so stay tuned!

Permanent tag list lovelies:

@bergamote-catsandbooks @chiyo13 @cw80831 @finalgirl-96 @harriedandharassed

@howhighwepose @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @lilac-boo @lucienofthelakes

@pigeonmama @punkygreeny @roughdaysandart @sadisticheskiy @samarys

@syd-djarin @wrathkitty

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➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

[iamthesilentwriter]

In Shadows We Meet

Draco Malfoy x Weasley!Fem!Reader

Summary: You know you’re not meant to, but you do. You and Draco have been secretly dating since the summer. What happens when your secret relationship is almost exposed? Or, the one where Ginny finds out.

Warnings: slight angst, some kissing

Authors Note: Hello! Sorry, I've ghosted you all. I have started/been writing a Marauders Era High School Foster Care AU, centered around Regulus and Sirius Black, over on AO3, under 'iamthesilentwriter'. It has literally become my newest hyperfixation and I've been really enjoying writing it. That doesn't mean I've completely stopped writing over here on tumblr, it's just posts will occur (hopefully) once every month, maybe more if I have multiple ideas. Thank you all for all your patience, and please enjoy my first Draco x reader oneshot!!

Word Count: 6,878

Navigation | Masterlist

Being Ginny’s twin is like living in the world’s worst nightmare. 

Your mother only wanted one daughter, so when she found out she was having twins, she wasn’t particularly thrilled. And if she had to have two, why couldn’t they at least be the same? 

You and Ginny are complete opposites. She is funny, outgoing, charismatic, while you are the polar opposite. You’re quiet, anxious, and observant. She thrives in the spotlight, while you prefer the shadows. Where Ginny rushes into adventure with reckless excitement, you hesitate, overthink, and hold yourself back. It has always been that way.

So, it was a surprise—even to yourself—when you started developing feelings for a certain boy your family despises. 

Draco Malfoy.

He gets you in all the ways your family cannot. He understands things about you that even you don’t understand. The way silence isn’t always loneliness, how words aren’t always necessary, how there is strength in restraint. 

You weren’t sure when it started—maybe it was the stolen glances across the Great Hall or the times you found yourself unconsciously searching for him in a crowd. But if you had to pinpoint the moment you truly met, it would be in Potions.

He’s fairly good at Potions, you are absolutely not. You were barely scraping by and the end of last year, and Professor Snape—never one to waste his time on hopeless cases—paired you with Draco for tutoring. 

A Malfoy and a Weasley. The irony of it wasn’t lost on you.

"You’re quiet today."

Ginny’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she flops down beside you in the Gryffindor common room, her gaze sharp and searching.

"I’m always quiet," you mutter, staring into the flickering fire.

Ginny snorts. "Yeah, but this is different. You’re brooding. You only do that when something’s on your mind." She nudges your arm. "Spill."

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeve. Ginny knows you too well. But telling her? That’s a dangerous game.

Because if she ever found out the truth—about Draco, about everything—you’re not sure she’d ever forgive you.

You’re not sure if anyone in your family would ever forgive you. 

Sure, your eldest brothers—Bill, Charlie, and maybe even Percy—might forgive you. Considering the fact that they’ve always been more accepting, more willing to see beyond the surface. But Ron? The twins? Even your mum and dad?

You can almost picture their faces, a mix of disbelief and betrayal. Loving a Malfoy, of all people. It would be like tearing apart the very fabric of what it means to be a Weasley.

Ginny nudges you again, harder this time. “Hey, don’t go drifting off on me. What’s going on?”

You force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “It’s nothing, Ginny.”

Her eyes narrow, and you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “It’s not nothing. You’ve been weird for weeks now. Even Mum noticed.”

Your heart sinks. Of course your mum noticed. Molly Weasley has a sixth sense for when something is off with her children. It’s only a matter of time before she corners you, demanding answers you can’t give.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you finally say, the words tasting half-true. “Schoolwork, you know?”

Ginny raises an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. “You’ve never worried about schoolwork before. Even when you were failing Potions, you didn’t look this stressed.”

You wince at the mention of Potions, the memory of Draco’s steady gaze and patient explanations flooding your mind. How his fingers brushed yours when passing a vial, how his rare, soft smiles were like secrets shared only with you.

“Come on,” Ginny presses, her tone softer now, almost pleading. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your sister.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of expectation and trust. She’s your sister—your other half, your constant. But this? This is something you’re not sure you can ever share with her.

“I know, Gin,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “But some things are just… hard to explain.”

Ginny watches you for a moment, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. Finally, she sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

You nod, the guilt pressing down on your chest. “I won’t.”

But as you glance back into the fire, the flickering flames seem to mock you with their restless dance. Because deep down, you know that as long as Draco Malfoy remains your secret, there will always be a part of you that Ginny—and the rest of your family—will never truly know.

It’s not like you want to keep your relationship with Draco a secret. It’s the fact that you have to. If his father ever found out about the two of you, he most likely would be disowned… or worse.

Draco started sending you cryptic letters the second summer started. It was your way of communication. Every letter was written in a carefully crafted code, disguised as harmless, impersonal conversation. 

To anyone else, they would seem like the ramblings of two bored students discussing Potions and Quidditch. But hidden between the words were secret messages, phrases only the two of you understood.

You remember the moment you realized what he was really saying. 

The first letter had been vague, almost like a test. “The potion ingredients you mentioned… I think they have more meaning than you realize.” You had been confused at first, rereading the words over and over until something clicked. He wasn’t talking about Potions at all.

And then the flowers started arriving.

At first, you thought they were a mistake, but no one in your family ever mentioned them. They would appear outside your window at The Burrow, tied with silver ribbon. A single stem at a time—deliberate, chosen with care.

You had to buy a book on flowers just to understand what they meant.

A blue cornflower—hope and anticipation. A white camellia—you’re adorable. A red tulip—declaration of love.

That was the one that made your heart stop.

That was the one that changed everything.

You kept every single one, hidden away in an old box under your bed. Pressed between pages of books, tucked into letters you never sent back. Proof that, for the first time, someone saw you. Not just as Ginny’s twin. Not just as another Weasley. But as you.

The fire crackles beside you, but your mind is elsewhere. With him.

“I’m going for a walk,” you say suddenly, standing from the couch.

Ginny frowns, tilting her head. “Now?”

You nod, grabbing your cloak. “Yeah. I just need some air.”

She watches you for a moment, as if trying to decipher something unspoken, but eventually sighs. “Alright. Don’t stay out too late.”

You murmur a quiet “I won’t” before slipping out of the common room, your heartbeat steady but quickening.

The castle is quiet at this hour, most students tucked away in their dormitories. You keep your footsteps light, making your way through familiar corridors, down winding staircases, until you reach the spot.

A small, tucked-away alcove near the entrance to the dungeons. A place no one ever pays attention to.

And he’s already there.

Draco leans against the stone wall, arms crossed, his pale hair illuminated by the dim torchlight. The moment he sees you, his expression softens.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in his tone.

You step closer, barely suppressing a smile. “I had to be careful.”

He studies you for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out something small. When he extends his hand, your breath catches.

A flower.

A pink carnation.

I’ll never forget you.

You take it carefully, fingers brushing against his. Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence filled with everything unsaid.

And then, softly, he says, “I missed you.”

Your fingers tighten around the delicate stem of the flower, your heart beating a little too fast. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve met Draco here more times than you can count, exchanged letters all summer, deciphered secret messages meant only for you. And yet, every time, the sight of him makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

His stormy grey eyes hold yours, searching, like he’s trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. Then, before you can process what’s happening, he leans in—just slightly, just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the scent of expensive cologne and parchment and something unmistakably Draco.

And then, softly, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

It’s brief—chaste, even—but it leaves your skin burning.

You’re sure he can hear your heartbeat. It’s embarrassingly loud in your ears.

You swallow hard, staring down at the pink carnation still nestled between your fingers. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you finally say it.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Draco exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and when you dare to glance up at him, there’s something unbearably tender in his expression. Like you’re something precious. Like you matter.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The castle is silent around you, the dim torchlight flickering against the cold stone walls. The world beyond these walls doesn’t exist. Not your family, not his, not the expectations, not the war that lingers in hushed whispers in the halls.

Just this. Just him.

Draco reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, hesitant but certain.

“You know,” he murmurs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “one day, I’d like to do that properly.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face as you look away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Just fondness. Just the quiet kind of happiness you’re not sure you’ve ever had before.

You don’t say it, but you think it. I hope I’ll always be here.

It’s not some act of defiance you are trying to display. And, yes, you are aware of the fact that Draco has been nothing but horrible towards your family.

But he’s changed.

He’s stepped back. He’s stopped saying nasty things, he’s stopped bullying others, he’s stopped being… that person.

And, maybe, you had something to do with it. You don’t think Draco would ever admit it, though—however true it is.

You lean against the cold stone wall of your usual meeting spot, a quiet alcove near the entrance to the dungeons, just out of sight. It’s late, and the castle is hushed with the weight of the sleeping students inside it. You’ve just finished your prefect rounds, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but the anticipation of seeing him keeps you awake.

You think back to the first time you truly met him—not in passing in the halls, not in the context of family rivalry, but really met him.

Fourth year. Potions tutoring.

He had been annoyed at first, at Snape for forcing him to help a Weasley, at you for being so hopeless with brewing. You remember the sharp remarks, the condescending sighs. But you also remember the moment something shifted—that first time you understood something because of the way he explained it, the way his expression changed when he realized you weren’t as dull as he thought.

And now, here you are.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. You barely have time to react before Draco steps into the alcove, his familiar scent washing over you—cologne, parchment, something distinctly him.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hand finds your waist, drawing you close, and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

It’s still new, this thing between you—the kisses, the way he touches you with something close to reverence—but it’s welcome.

Your breath stutters, but you melt into him easily, your arms winding around his neck. You tangle your fingers in his hair, soft and fair between your fingers, and he hums—a sound of quiet contentment that makes your heart swell.

When you finally pull back, your face warm, you barely manage a shy, “Hi.”

Draco doesn’t let go. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing slow circles against your waist. “Hello,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, like he doesn’t want to disturb the fragile moment between you.

You stay there, pressed against him, basking in the rare peace of just being. No expectations, no secrets to keep, no families to disappoint—just the two of you.

Then, after a long silence, he speaks.

“I think my mother knows.”

You freeze. Your entire body tenses in his hold, but Draco doesn’t let go.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands still resting against his shoulders. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, “Not about us?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But… I think she knows I’ve been seeing someone.”

You swallow, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. Of course she knows. Narcissa Malfoy is no fool. If anyone would notice the changes in Draco—the way he sneaks away, the way he seems lighter somehow—it would be her.

“How?” you whisper.

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me the other day if there was ‘a girl’ I was spending time with. She was… careful with her words, but she knows me too well.” He pauses, his gaze searching yours. “I didn’t confirm anything, obviously, but she knows.”

You nod slowly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“What do you think she’ll do?”

Draco is quiet for a moment, his grip on you tightening slightly. Then, with surprising certainty, he says, “Nothing.”

Your brows furrow. “Nothing?”

“She’s not like my father,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “She’s never cared about blood status the way he does. She wouldn’t approve, not openly, but… she wouldn’t stop me either.”

You exhale, a slow, measured breath. It’s not reassurance, not entirely, but it’s enough.

Draco watches you carefully, then leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I won’t let anyone take this from me,” he whispers against your skin.

And for now, that promise is enough.

But that promise doesn’t last long.

You’ve been agitated. Studying for the O.W.L.s is no joke.

Draco has been understanding in every way that matters.

He doesn’t complain when you’re too exhausted to sneak away as often as you used to. He doesn’t sulk when your letters become shorter, your handwriting rushed. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead when you do meet, tells you to take care of yourself, and reminds you—without words—that he’s still here.

But you haven’t been as careful.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re tired, distracted, too busy to think about every step you take. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. You’ve let your guard slip, just a little.

You’re just finishing up your meeting with Draco now, his hands warm on your waist as he lingers, reluctant to let go. He presses one last kiss to your lips, slow and lingering, before murmuring, “Go. Before someone catches us.”

You nod, exhaling softly, before slipping away from him.

The castle is quiet as you make your way back, the corridors dimly lit with flickering torches. You let yourself relax, just slightly, as you turn a corner—

And walk straight into someone.

You stumble back, heart leaping to your throat, and when you look up, panic surges through your veins like ice.

Ginny.

She crosses her arms, her brows furrowed. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.”

Your mind races. Does she know?

You force yourself to stay calm, to school your features into something neutral. “Oh. Sorry, I was just—”

Ginny’s eyes narrow, scanning you, and you realize with horror that your lips are probably still a little swollen, your hair a bit mussed.

Think. Say something.

“You were just what?” she presses.

You swallow hard. “I—uh—prefect rounds. I lost track of time.”

Ginny doesn’t look convinced. “Really?”

Your stomach churns. You’ve been slipping up, you know you have. And now, with your sister standing in front of you, suspicion written all over her face, you’re not sure if you can lie your way out of this one.

“Uh-huh. Yep,” you say, nodding a little too quickly.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t have to say anything—the look on her face is enough.

“Sure you were,” she says, and then, with a tilt of her head, she adds, “but you’ve still got an hour.”

Your stomach drops. She caught me in my lie.

“Uhhh,” you stammer, scrambling for something—anything—to say. But your mind is completely blank.

Ginny watches you, her expression unreadable. Then, just as your panic reaches its peak, she does something unexpected.

She loops her arm through yours and starts walking, dragging you along toward the Gryffindor common room.

You blink, caught off guard, but let her lead you without resistance. The silence between you is thick, almost suffocating. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s from the near-disaster you just avoided or the fear that Ginny isn’t done questioning you yet.

Then, after a beat, she finally speaks.

“You have a boyfriend?”

You sigh, shoulders sagging. There’s no use denying it.

“…Kind of.”

Ginny hums. “How long?”

You hesitate. Then, quietly, you admit, “Since summer.”

She nods, as if that makes sense, then glances at you again. “Is it… Michael Corner?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Ginny nods again, almost thoughtfully. “Huh. He’s been acting weird lately too.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you keep your mouth shut, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

No such luck.

“What year is he in?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering. “…Sixth.”

Ginny hums. “Is he in Gryffindor?”

You shake your head.

She exhales, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you gonna tell me who he is?”

You swallow. “I’m… not ready for anyone to know.”

Ginny studies you for a long moment, then nods, squeezing your arm gently. “I understand.”

You reach the Fat Lady’s portrait, and Ginny mutters the password. As the portrait swings open and you step inside, you can’t shake the unease curling in your stomach.

I’ve got to be more careful.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

You didn’t mean to get upset with Draco.

But you did.

It had been a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have escalated the way it did. You can still hear the sharp edge in your own voice, the way Draco’s expression had hardened, his frustration evident as he raked a hand through his hair.

“Why are you acting like this?” he had asked, voice laced with exasperation.

You had crossed your arms, your own irritation bubbling over. “I don’t know, Draco. Maybe because I’m exhausted? Because I have a thousand things to do and I can’t afford to get caught sneaking off every night?”

His jaw had clenched. “I never asked you to.”

And that—that—had been what set you off.

“Right. Of course you didn’t. But it’s still me risking everything, isn’t it?” you had snapped.

Draco’s expression had flickered—hurt flashing across his features so quickly you almost doubted it was ever there. But then his face had gone cold, distant.

“I didn’t realize I was such a burden.”

You had opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he had already taken a step back.

“I’ll give you space,” he had said, voice quieter now. “Since I’m clearly just making things harder for you.”

And then he had left.

That was nearly two weeks ago.

You haven’t spoken since.

It’s now the Christmas holidays, and you haven’t received a single letter from him. Not even the smallest, coded note. You’ve debated whether or not to send him something, but every time you pick up a quill, doubt creeps in.

What if he doesn’t want to hear from you?

So, you don’t write. And you’re miserable.

You’re snappish with everyone, your temper shorter than usual, your patience wearing thin over the smallest things. It’s only a matter of time before someone calls you out on it.

That someone, unsurprisingly, is Ginny.

She storms into your room one evening, arms crossed, her expression set.

“Alright, enough,” she says, planting herself in front of you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You glare at her from where you sit on your bed, arms wrapped around your knees. “Nothing.”

Ginny scoffs. “Oh, please. You’ve been in a mood since we got home. Snapping at everyone, storming around like you’re about to hex the next person who breathes wrong—”

“I have not—”

“Yes, you have,” she interrupts, eyes flashing. “And I’m sick of it. You’re not telling me something, and I want to know what.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but the lump in your throat is too thick. Instead, to your absolute horror, your vision starts to blur.

Ginny’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of your tears, but she doesn’t back down. If anything, she crosses her arms tighter, her stance firm.

“Oh,” she says, her voice quieter now. But there’s still frustration beneath it, an unwillingness to let this go. “So there is something wrong.”

You shake your head quickly, blinking hard, trying to push back the sting in your eyes. “It’s— it’s nothing, Ginny.”

She scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You flinch, and Ginny exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair.

“You know, I’ve been patient with you,” she says, voice clipped, pacing at the foot of your bed. “We all have. We all thought, maybe, you just needed some space. But you’ve been awful to everyone lately. You barely talk to me, you snap at Mum every time she asks you something, you completely shut down whenever someone even tries to—”

“I said I’m fine,” you snap, but it comes out shakier than you intended.

Ginny whirls around, her brown eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. And I don’t get why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! I’m your twin, remember? The person who’s supposed to know when something’s wrong? But you won’t even let me in.”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest, and the weight of everything crashes over you all at once.

You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s like you can’t breathe. Your hands grip at your knees, your entire body going rigid as the pressure in your chest tightens, and suddenly—

The tears spill over.

You don’t mean to. You don’t want to. But once it starts, you can’t stop.

Ginny freezes. “Oh.”

Your shoulders shake, and you press the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the sobs back down.

Ginny hesitates for half a second before sitting down beside you, her voice softer now. “Hey…”

You shake your head, still unable to speak.

The bed shifts slightly as Ginny shifts closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to make you cry, I just—” She sighs. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It’s stupid.”

Ginny sits on the bed beside you. “It’s clearly not.”

You exhale shakily, willing yourself to get a grip. But your voice is small when you finally admit, “I messed things up.”

Ginny stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, carefully keeping details vague. “I got into an argument with… someone. And now, I think I’ve lost him.”

There’s a pause. Then, something shifts in Ginny’s expression. It’s like something clicks.

“…You’re in love with him.”

You freeze.

The words send a jolt through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Love.

You hadn’t— You weren’t—

Except… you are, aren’t you?

Your heart pounds, your entire body going still. You think of Draco—his sharp wit, his rare smiles, the way he looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. You think of his hands at your waist, the warmth of his touch, the quiet, careful way he had let you set the pace.

You think of how much it hurts to be apart from him.

“…Oh,” you whisper.

Ginny’s expression softens. “Yeah,” she says. “Oh.”

You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat.

Ginny nudges your shoulder gently. “You should write to him.”

You hesitate.

“Apologize,” she says. “Talk to him.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I think I will.”

Ginny smiles, standing up and stretching. “Good.” Then, with a teasing glint in her eyes, she adds, “And whoever this boy is, if he starts treating you badly, let me know, and I’ll handle it.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of you. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks. “Damn right.”

And then, with one last knowing look, she leaves you alone with your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, then pull out parchment and ink.

You hesitate only for a moment before pressing the quill to the page.

My Knight,

I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was stressed, and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.

You are not a burden. Not even close. If anything, you’re the only thing keeping me sane. I’ve missed you, more than I can put into words. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I needed to say this.

Please write back.

Love,

Your Supernova 

You stare at the letter for a long moment before folding it carefully.

Then, heart pounding, you seal it and set it aside to send in the morning.

You wake up with the same knot of anxiety in your stomach, the one that’s been twisting ever since you sent Draco the letter yesterday. Your thoughts race, each one a worst-case scenario. What if he doesn’t reply? What if he’s angry with you? What if he never wants to speak to you again? The questions swirl like a storm in your head, and despite the bright December morning outside, the world feels impossibly heavy. You try to push them away, but they cling to you, relentless.

It’s already noon when you hear the soft knock on your door. You’re not expecting anyone, but you know immediately what it is. Your heart leaps in your chest. Ginny’s standing there, holding a letter, and the panic hits you again like a wave.

"Here you go," she says, her tone light, but the knowing look in her eyes makes it clear that she senses your unease. She offers you the letter with a small smile, not hiding the fact that she knows how much this means to you.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the letter. "Ginny," you murmur, voice barely a whisper, "I can’t."

She watches you with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You’re freaking out over a letter? Relax, sis."

"I—" You try to steady your breath, but your hands are trembling too much to be still. You want to tell her that it’s more than just a letter—that this could change everything. But the words don’t come. "What if—"

She cuts you off, her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Look, if it’ll help, I can read it for you."

Your eyes widen at the idea. "No!" You grab the letter from her hand, clutching it to your chest. "I want to read it myself."

Ginny laughs softly, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Take your time.” She watches you with a mix of amusement and something more—concern, maybe. Her gaze lingers, but she doesn’t push, letting you have your moment.

With a deep breath, you rip open the envelope. The sound of it seems too loud in the quiet room. Your heart beats in your throat as you pull the letter out. The parchment is thick, the edges slightly curled from the fold. The familiar scent of ink and parchment fills your senses, but it's the feeling in your chest that’s the hardest to bear. The anxiety. The dread. The hope.

You unfold the letter, feeling the smooth paper against your fingertips, and begin to read:

Dear Supernova,

I’m sorry for not replying sooner. I’ve been thinking about everything you said, and I’ve realized that I shouldn’t have been so distant. You didn’t deserve that.

I don’t know where things are headed between us, but I want to see where it goes. I’ll do better, I promise. You’re worth more than the way I acted.

I’ve missed you.

Love,

Your Knight.

Your heart softens as you read his words, the relief flooding in with each line. It’s not as bad as you feared. In fact, it’s better than you’d hoped. The knot in your stomach begins to loosen, and you let out a shaky breath. For a brief moment, everything feels right again. He’s trying.

But then, something else catches your eye. A small, dried flower slips from the letter. You pick it up carefully, fingers brushing the lavender petals. It’s vibrant even in its pressed state, a perfect wild lavender, curled and fragrant, its purple hue still bright. The meaning of lavender strikes you instantly—devotion.

You smile softly at the gesture. It’s personal, thoughtful. Something Draco would do, if he was truly trying.

Your attention shifts again as something else falls from the letter—a piece of jewelry. You gasp softly, and Ginny leans forward as she notices it too.

You pick up the necklace gently, your fingers skimming the cool silver chain. It’s delicate yet sturdy, not too heavy but unmistakably expensive. The pendant is a small, intricate locket, polished to perfection, gleaming in the soft light of your room. You turn it over in your hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship.

It’s engraved with delicate swirls, floral patterns wrapping around the edges. When you open it, you find two tiny spaces, perfect for small photos. Your heart tightens as you wonder—did Draco have this made just for you? Or had he kept it all this time, waiting for the right moment to give it away?

A folded note slips from the locket, and you unfold it with trembling fingers.

Merry Christmas.

It’s Draco’s handwriting, neat and precise, though a little more formal than you’d expect for a casual holiday message. You smile at the simplicity of it, the warmth of the words, and yet, something unsettles you. Was he truly thinking of you when he wrote it, or was he just trying to smooth things over?

Ginny doesn’t give you much time to ponder. She snatches the necklace from your hand and inspects it, eyes wide in awe. “Ooooh, wow. This is gorgeous.” Her fingers glide over the pendant. “And… really expensive.”

You laugh nervously, your voice barely a whisper. “I—he didn’t have to—”

She holds it up to the light, her eyes glittering. "I don’t care what he had to do. This is way beyond what I’d expect from a… guy like him." She glances at you, raising an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the expensive gift.

You smile softly but it’s bittersweet. You’re not used to receiving gifts like this—not from anyone, especially not from someone like Draco. You glance back down at the letter, reading his words again, feeling the weight of them. I’ll do better, I promise. You trace the edges of the necklace absently, your chest tightening again.

Ginny stands there for a moment, watching you quietly. The room falls silent as you let the words sink in. But Ginny isn’t done yet.

She sets the necklace down carefully and gives you a sharp, knowing look. “So, is everything okay between you two?”

You freeze, unsure how to respond. The truth feels complicated, tangled in knots you don’t know how to untangle. “Yes... and no. For now, everything’s fine. But I still need to talk to him. I just need some time to figure it out.”

Ginny nods slowly, studying your face. “Alright. Just don’t let it go too long, okay? You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

You nod in return, grateful for her support. “I know.”

She stands, moving toward the door, then turns with a half-smile on her face. “Well, let me know if you need anything. And…” She glances back at you, a playful glint in her eye. “If he starts treating you badly, I swear I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You chuckle softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks, then exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sit there, the letter in your hands, the necklace resting beside you. You should feel lighter now, but something doesn’t sit right. You can’t place it, but there’s a tension in the air you can’t shake.

You try to dismiss it as nerves. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything that’s happened, or the confusion you still feel. But it lingers, like a shadow in the back of your mind.

Things slowly start to unravel the second you step foot onto Hogwarts grounds.

Christmas break had been a nightmare. All you wanted to do was apologize to Draco properly, not some half-hearted apologies in letters.

And now, as you sit in your secret meeting place, tucked away behind the old tapestry on the seventh floor, you can’t stop fidgeting. The silver locket rests in your palm, cool against your skin, the chain sliding between your fingers as you move it back and forth. It’s become a nervous habit over the last few days—something to ground you as you run through every possible way to say I’m sorry without completely breaking down.

What if he doesn’t forgive you? What if you’ve messed things up beyond repair?

The thought makes your stomach churn. You clench your jaw, trying to steady yourself. You just need to see him, to explain everything, to tell him—

The sound of footsteps approaching makes you freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, and you barely have time to compose yourself before the curtain of the tapestry shifts and Draco steps through.

The second you see him, you don’t think. You just move.

You surge forward, throwing your arms around him, clutching him tightly like he might slip through your fingers if you don’t hold on. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then his arms come around you, strong and sure, pulling you against him. The familiar scent of him—clean parchment, expensive cologne, and something unmistakably him—fills your senses, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

You feel him shift slightly, and before you can say anything else, his hands cup your face, tilting it up toward him. You barely have time to register the soft look in his silver eyes before he’s kissing you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—just firm and reassuring, as if he’s telling you it’s okay without needing words. The tension inside you unravels, and you melt into him, hands clutching the fabric of his robes as you kiss him back.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head slightly. “I do,” you insist. “I should’ve never made you feel like—like you weren’t important. You are. So much.”

Draco exhales slowly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You drive me insane sometimes, you know that?” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s no real bite to it.

You huff out a weak laugh, sniffling. “Yeah, I know.”

His arms wrap around you again, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in this moment, the weight of the last few weeks fading as you press your face into his shoulder.

He’s here. He’s yours. And this time, you won’t let your fear push him away.

The next couple of days have really taken a toll on you. You’ve barely had time to see Draco due to all the late-night studying you’ve been doing.

Today had been a particularly tough day. And in a desperate need to see Draco, you completely forgot to keep an eye out for anyone who might follow you.

You weren’t thinking straight. How could you? All you needed was to see him, and maybe, because of that need, you let your guard down.

And now, you are suffering the consequences.

You’re pressed against Draco’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you as you shake in his hold. His hand moves in soothing circles along your back, and you clutch onto his robes like a lifeline, your body wracked with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice warm and steady. “Everything is going to be okay.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, buried in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as he whispers quiet reassurances against your skin.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, voice softer now, full of something you can’t quite name. “I promise, it’s alright.”

Eventually, your tears slow, your breathing evens out, and the weight pressing against your chest lightens just enough for you to finally lift your head. Draco tilts your chin up gently, his silver eyes scanning your face as if making sure you’re truly alright.

And then, he kisses you.

It starts slow—his lips brushing against yours like a question, as if making sure you want this. And Merlin, do you want this.

You kiss him back instantly, pushing yourself closer to him, your fingers threading into his hair. The tension of the past few days melts away as he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to your waist, the other resting against the back of your neck. It’s intoxicating—the way he kisses you like you’re something precious, something to be cherished.

You’re so lost in the warmth of him, in the way he holds you, that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching.

You don’t even register the presence behind you until—

Someone coughs.

You and Draco break apart so fast it’s almost comical, your head snapping toward the sound.

And there, standing just a few feet away, is Ginny.

All the blood drains from your face.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at you, her expression unreadable, which somehow makes it worse.

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Ginny isn’t stupid. She’s piecing everything together in real time—the secret meetings, the necklace, your constant evasion when she asked who you were seeing. And now, catching you like this, wrapped up in Draco Malfoy like he’s the air you breathe—

You try to swallow the panic creeping up your throat.

“Ginny—”

But she’s already turning on her heel.

Your heart lurches. No, no, no.

“Ginny, wait!” You break away from Draco and hurry after her.

She stops, but only just, turning around sharply. “What?” she snaps, her voice cutting.

You flinch, but you force yourself to meet her eyes. Draco is right behind you, tense but silent.

“I—I’m sorry,” you start, voice uneven. “I should’ve told you sooner. There was a reason I didn’t—”

Something shifts in Ginny’s face, like a realization hitting her all at once.

“I’m not mad at you,” she says suddenly, though her voice is still tight. “Well, I am, but I’m more mad that you didn’t think you could trust me with this.” She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I get why you didn’t say anything, because, yeah, it’s Malfoy—” her gaze flickers to Draco before settling back on you “—but you’re happy. I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

Your breath catches.

Ginny sighs, her voice softer now. “I see the way you act, like you’re my shadow. And, frankly, you’re treated like one. It’s not fair.” Her eyes search yours. “You deserve to have something that’s just yours. And if that’s him—” she jerks her chin toward Draco, “—then fine. But you should’ve told me.”

You blink at her, unable to speak. She’s not furious about who you’re dating—just that you hadn’t told her. The relief that floods you is almost overwhelming.

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny studies you for a moment longer before she finally sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, shaking her head. Then, she turns to Draco, her gaze sharp as a dagger.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Draco actually chuckles—until he sees the look on Ginny’s face. He swallows, nodding. “Understood.”

Ginny hums, clearly satisfied. “I’ll see you back in the common room,” she says, glancing at you one last time before walking away.

Silence lingers in the air for a beat. Then, warm hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a familiar embrace.

You turn in Draco’s arms, looping your own around his neck.

“Well,” he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That wasn’t so bad.”

You huff out a laugh. “I guess not.”

His smirk deepens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Now we should tell Weasley about us.”

Your stomach drops. You swat his shoulder instantly. “Absolutely not.”

Draco chuckles, leaning in. “Fine, fine,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We’ll save that heart attack for another day.”

[lumdays]

WOOOO LORE DROPPP🔥🔥🔥

oooh the adler house scandal huh,, 👀 ahh i'm really curious, was it purposely a sabotage? or was the entire group taught in the adler academy? it feels like the latter would be the original belief,,, I LOVE PLOTS LIKE THISSSS

ALSO‼️‼️SIR SIYUN AND LADY ARIYAAA i can totally see them meeting in a swordsmith shop!!siyun's getting their sword fixed when they feel calculating eyes on them—they turn around and find a refined-looking lady observing them, or maybe more like observing her general surroundings? either way, consider their interest piqued.

(SORRY FOR THE ONCOMING YAP FEST)

they'd approach her without recognising her as baroness adler, but once they do, there's a suble shift in their demeanor (hehe, ariya might recognise it as pity but i think siyun would feel it more like worry, 's probably also toeing on the line of pity though). there’s a sense of familiarity—siyun knows her family's history but chooses not to bring it up directly, instead offering sincere praise for her family's past achievements. maybe that would catch ariya off-guard? XD i imagine most people would avoid mentioning the fallen adler legacy altogether

ariya running into siyun while she's investigating is such a good setup for fun interactions LMAO, siyun was likely dispatched in the area to do some patrolling but they often ditch their duties to help if they see someone in a pinch—that includes lady ariya. dw you weren’t wrong at all! lolol siyun is indeed a very persistent person, but i think they would need to know her a little better before choosing to actually support her cause. they might start helping her with little things, like directions or blending in during more covert snooping, and sometimes they show up by coincidence, offering light-hearted conversation to ease the tension. i can imagine smth like

siyun: "funny how we keep meeting like this. fate must be trying to tell us something."

ariya: "or you’re just following me around."

siyun, grinning: "i promise it’s not that. but if you ever need help, i'll be around."

ariya, sighing: "so i've seen."

THE FIGHTTTT oh siyun is thrilled, their first glimpse at the adler technique and it's from an adler herself! they'll be so giddy over it later but for now, they gotta lock in. what kind of knight kicks back while someone else fights?

since it'd be their first fight together, there's less of a chance for interesting combos and stuff—siyun's on the unpredictable side, their fighting style is sort of a mashup of every technique they've seen and mastered throughout the years. they never fight the same way twice—so they'll have to adapt to ariya's sweeping motions and take out opponents close-range

they're definitely complimenting her swordmanship as well!! their praise may not be as elegant or as structured as ariya's (and they're a little embarrassed about that💀💀) but it's as sincere as always

THEM SPARRINGGGG HSHSHSHSSH siyun would hold back a little, i feel like that would annoy ariya but they can’t help it😭😭 they’ve been on the battlefield, there’s an undeniable difference in between disciplined precision and raw instinct

ariya dropping her facade would be such a pleasant surprise for siyun, i bet they haven’t noticed how her edges softened over time LMAO

either way, i’m super glad you like siyun hehe🫶🫶 this au’s super fun and i can’t wait for the world building info!! thank you for creating this au <33

please notice me, prince!! ♡

au by @alli-ily << i've been meaning to join this au for a little while now hehehe

*click for better quality LMAO,,, sorry i have no idea why it's so fucked up but i did transcript the important stuff down here if you want

sir? dame? siyun (aka azul's worst nightmare)

"though they are very capable, they're quite unpopular with nobles as they tend to disobey even direct orders if they figure that there is a more efficient way to do things. they're also a little too honest for high society's taste."

siyun hails from far away lands, practically another world (hehe nod to them being a yuu). it is known that they have two younger siblings and that their parents are both well but it seems that they are no longer in contact.

...ashengrotto despises them (they give him SO many headaches, FREE HIM 🙏🙏)

some more stuff utc,, ARGHHH I BRAINROT OVER AUS LIKE THIS SO FAST💔💔💔 it's the evil manhwa lover in me

ALRIGHT SOOO.... the reason why i keep mentioning azul is because In My Head (please correct me if i'm wrong/you don't want me making up stuff HELPPP i didn't know what to go off aside that there's a bunch of kingdoms and nobles), he was accused/is suspected of embezzlement and siyun was dispatched to monitor him.

...they might as well be the bane of his existence honestly. embezzlement is likely the one crime he has yet to commit but with a highly competent knight keeping a close eye on him, it's gotten a lot harder for him to do anything that is remotely not outstanding-member-of-society material, which pisses him off to no end (...that's kinda just his own assumptions though LMAO, siyun does NOT care that much about the matters of some rich merchant,, unless someone gets hurt that is).

ANYWAYS. this made me think i should probably write down how they feel about lady ariya and prince shin

starting with lady ariya

siyun truly admires her resolve to clear her family's name. but they also can't help but feel something akin pity for her, the path she chose for herself will be long and arduous, especially alone—very few manage to walk out, head held high and pride intact. still, she seems like a promising young lady and siyun is a hopeful person, "i will assist you should you ever call for me."

prince shin (@liyuviq)

humble beginnings, big responsibilities. it's a bit presumptuous, but siyun sort of relates to the illegitimate prince. perhaps not fully—they never experienced Suddenly Being A Royal and sincerely hoped they never would, even in another universe. however, they can relate to the whiplash, the struggle to cram into a few months—no, weeks—everything the other nobles learned over the years, the stares, the whispers... they remember how it all felt, and when they look at their highness shin, they can only hope that they will rise through it all. "then again, i do know i am not your highness. perhaps you don't feel even a fraction of the dread that filled me back then—i would be very glad if so."

i hope i'm not overstepping 👉👈,, aghh also open for interactions for anyone interested hdhdhhdshd, i haven't checked the tag yet HELP

as for the hypothetical target of their affection,,, i fear it may be butler jade 💀💀........... I'M A SUCKER FOR BUTLER X KNIGHT ARCHETYPE 💔💔💔ALSO I BRAINROT OVER YUNDE 2MUCH💔AH AND quick lore rundown

i imagine their knighthood still stands in another empire—or kingdom,,, sorry my knowledge of the world building here is a little vague HDUAJHF. anyway the point is that they are skilled enough for the royal family themselves to take them under their heavy golden wing—until the ashengrotto accusations and they're given bits and pieces of their freedom back.

I'M REALLY SORRY MOOTS THIS IS JUST ME YAPPING ON AND ON..... but like this au's really sick‼️‼️‼️ tags - @heyhellohihowareyou @elenauaurs @distant-velleity @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @skriblee-ksk @sickle-stick @puowei @jadelover69 @tixdixl @nemisisnemi @angelwishess @theleechyskrunkly @chillygourami @bunniehunn @cheerleaderman UUUH DID I FORGET ANYONE.....

[jooyeonsvape]

— good morning love

genre; smut

w/c; 0.8k

pairings; husband!beomgyu, female!reader

warnings; morning sex, dry humping, talk of titty fucking, dirty talk, pet names.

[masterlists]

a/n; i was going to do a beomgyu fluff but then i saw that picture and changed my mind reallll quick 😮‍💨 i hope you enjoy! check out my other work!! <3

the sound you hate the most in the world is your alarm clock ringing, but you knew if you turned it off, you’d sleep all day.

with a groan, you reach over and hit snooze, then look down to see your husband beomgyu’s arms wrapped around you.

it was his day off but you completely forgot, you turn over and give his soft cheek a kiss then untangle yourself from his body, even though you wanted to stay there.

since he was off, you take a shower with all of his favorite scents and go downstairs to make a grand breakfast for him. usually you just drink tea and eat at lunchtime but he loves when you make him homemade waffles.

after an hour in the kitchen, you walk up the stairs to see beomgyu sprawled across the bed and you lean down to give his cheek another kiss.

“baaaabbbby.” you sing in a soft tone and you see his face twitching. “wake up, i made you waffles, eggs, and spam.” you say in the same sing-song voice.

beomgyu mumbles something incoherently and you huff, putting your hands on your hips. “come on, i spent like 3 hours on it.” you were being dramatic, but anything to get his eyes open.

he looks at you with one eye and opens his arms wide so you’d lay down with him. “choi beomgyu, i am not going back to bed.” you giggle at his cuteness and see his cheeky smile spread across his face.

with a groan you lay down in his arms, facing away from him so his head was burrowed in your neck. “we can stay like this for 5 minutes.” you mumble but secretly want to stay in his arms forever.

after a good 10 minutes, you were on the verge of falling asleep while you listen to his soft breathing. “okay baby let’s get u-“ your words and movements were cut off by beomgyu tightening his grip around you.

“did you take a shower?” he asks simply in your ear and you nod. beomgyu sighs in your neck and you can hear him sniffing in scents.

“i love the way you smell.” beomgyu’s whispers sent chills down your spine and he presses against your back.

your eyes shoot open when you feel his hard on rubbing against the fabric of your pajama bottoms. “are you?” you try to turn around but he had a strong grip on you still.

although he’s usually playful and sweet during your intimacy sessions, this side of him turns you on just as much.

beomgyu never wore clothes to bed so you can feel his exposed dick running up and down your ass cheeks, growing harder as he goes.

he leans down and kisses your neck weakly then lets out a shaky moan in your ear which made you instantly soaked in your shorts just by his noises.

he pulls your shorts down to your calfs and looks down at your ass as he continues rubbing against your cheeks, “this feels so good.”

beomgyu stuffed his face back in your neck and breathes heavy, knowing him, he was close. “good boy, keep going.” you encouraged and he leaves more tender kisses on the side of your neck.

“keep talking.” he begs and you blush, the two of you never had sex like this before and it was thrilling. “cum on my ass baby boy, i want to feel it drip on my pussy.”

beomgyu lets out a growl and fastens his pace, gripping both ass cheeks in his hands so he could spread them wide. “maybe next time you can do this to my titties and cum on my chest,” you continue and reach your hand down to play with your clit.

“i’m about to-“ he groans then tilts his head back before he shoots a string of cum on your ass and thighs.

beomgyu continued his movements until his high was over and he loosens his grip on you. the two of you sat in silence for a minute while his breathing evens out and you clean yourself with tissue next to the bed. he gives your butt a playful slap. “good morning love.”

you blush and turn around so you’re facing your husband, “good morning.” you smile wide at his silliness and kiss his lips. “were you serious about the titty thing?” he asks, opening one eye to look at you.

you nod and he closes his eyes, “and the waffles?” you giggle at his eye opening again and you continue to nod. “i’ll get them for you, we can eat in bed.” you stand up from the bed and pull up your shorts, “this is why i married you.” beomgyu calls out when you leave the room and you roll your eyes at his silliness.

[hazymoonlinh]

sorry if it's long lol

because your writing is so good,I'd like to request jing yuan this time *shakes idea box* so what if mc is from penacony but she is a famous chef who so happens to be invited to visit the luofu after hearing from the trailblazer about the many dishes they tried from there,they run into the general and all mc does is take one look at the general and decides "this man needs some comfort food" which next thing you know has jing yuan smitten with her

Nahhhhh, you’re too good for me. Thanks for your kind words again, lottie ～(つˆДˆ)つ｡☆

My writing is just so so.

Anyway, here's for Lottie and my first main :3

A Culinary Encounter on the Luofu

Jing Yuan x f!reader

(no warning, fluff)

The bustling markets of the Xianzhou Luofu were alive with vibrant colors and enticing aromas. Stalls displayed an array of delicacies, from steaming buns to intricate pastries, each telling a story of tradition and flavor.

Amidst the crowd, the Trailblazer walked alongside a woman whose presence turned heads. She was the celebrated chef from Penacony, known across galaxies for her culinary artistry.

“I’m thrilled you accepted the invitation,” the Trailblazer said, weaving through the throng.

“After hearing your tales of the Luofu’s cuisine, how could I resist?” she replied, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

As they approached a grand pavilion, a figure stood at its entrance, exuding an aura of calm authority. His long, silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his golden eyes held a depth that spoke of countless stories.

“General Jing Yuan,” the Trailblazer greeted with a respectful nod.

Jing Yuan offered a gentle smile. “Welcome back, Trailblazer. And who might this esteemed guest be?”

Before the Trailblazer could respond, the chef stepped forward, her gaze meeting the general’s. In that instant, she perceived a subtle weariness beneath his composed exterior.

“I’m [Chef’s Name],” she introduced herself, extending a hand. “It’s an honor to meet the renowned general of the Luofu.”

Jing Yuan clasped her hand warmly. “The honor is mine.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Forgive my forwardness, but when was the last time you had a meal that truly comforted your soul?”

The question caught him off guard. “It’s been… longer than I can recall.”

Her eyes softened with understanding. “Then allow me the privilege of preparing something special for you.”

______

In the tranquil courtyard, the ambiance was serene, with the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of Luofu’s daily life. The table before you held the remnants of the Penacony specialty you’d prepared—a dish known for its comforting and soothing qualities.

Jing Yuan set down his chopsticks, a contented expression on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a meal that resonates so deeply. Your culinary skills are truly exceptional.”

You smiled warmly. “I’m glad it brought you comfort. In Penacony, we believe that food is not just sustenance but a bridge to the soul.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Penacony—the festival planet, if I’m not mistaken? A place where dreams intertwine with reality.”

“Yes,” you replied. “It’s a realm where the lines blur, and desires manifest in the most unexpected ways. But even amidst the revelry, we hold dear the simple joys, like sharing a heartfelt meal.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened as he regarded you. “In my position, moments of genuine connection are rare. Your presence here is… refreshing.”

You met his eyes, sensing the depth behind his words. “Even a general needs respite. Sometimes, it’s the simplest pleasures that offer the greatest solace.”

He chuckled softly. “Wise words. Perhaps I’ve been neglecting the simpler joys in life.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that speaks of mutual understanding. The world seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in that shared moment.

“Would you consider staying on the Luofu a while longer?” Jing Yuan asked, his tone almost tentative. “I find myself intrigued by both your culinary talents and your perspective on life.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. “I would be honored, General. There’s much I could learn from this place… and perhaps, much I could offer.”

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt expression. “Then it’s settled. Welcome to the Luofu.”

[bartmiuscjr]

A matter of time

synopsis 𑁤.ᐟ wolfstar as fuck buddies who don’t expect to run into each other outside of the bedroom, and definitely not in regulus black’s apartment.

disclaimer: english isn’t my first language, bear with me:3 also, open ending! i can definitely do a part 2. if enough people want it.

warnings: implied nsfw, kms comments.

ᡣ𐭩 request from @walaburgasaplusparenting — hope this lives up to your expectations!

The rule was simple: no contact outside of sex.

Sirius had agreed to it, because at first it seemed like a dream. No strings, no messy emotions — just sharp gasps, hands gripping too tight, teeth on skin and shaky moans. Remus wasn’t clingy, didn’t ask for things Sirius wasn’t willing — or ready — to give. They met up, fucked like the world was about to end, and then parted ways like strangers.

Sirius wanted that, he really did. He wanted to meet Remus at night, feeling desperate and needy, knowing that he would take care of him just how he liked it. The mere thought of being in an actual relationship, with emotions and vulnerability? That scared the shit out of him. So yes, being ‘fuck buddies’ — as he graciously named it the first time, earning a scoff and a quiet “that sounds like i’m a bloody toy” from Remus — should have been enough.

And yet.

Sirius doesn’t know when it started — the wanting. Perhaps it was when he caught himself lingering after, watching the way Remus stretched, lazy and content, as if he hadn’t just ruined him. Maybe it was the mornings when he woke up alone, and foolishly thought ‘how would it feel to wake up next to him?’.

Sirius wanted more, but he couldn’t ask — because Remus had never shown a single ounce of interest, not really. For him it was just meaningless sex. When Sirius talked to James about it, he just blinked and stared at Sirius like he was dumb (which he wasn’t, thank you very much) and asked ”right… did he tell you that?” (as if Sirius wasn’t perceptive and couldn’t read the guy he’s been fucking). Lily, bless her heart, reacted the exact same way — “did you ask him, or are you assuming he doesn’t want more?”.

So, in an act of desperation, Sirius decided he would go to his baby brother for advice. This was, probably, the worst decision he had ever made — he wasn’t thrilled about whining about his sex life with Regulus. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and considering his best friends absolutely sucked at giving him actual, helpful advice, Regulus’ coldness and indifference would have to suffice.

The bell announcing the end of the lecture finally rings, forcing Sirius to stop overthinking absolutely everything — because lately it’s the only thing he does — and grab his things, leaving towards his brother’s apartment. It was inside the same college, meaning he didn’t have to walk much. He grabbed his phone and quickly texted Regulus, a simple “i’m going to yours rn”. Regulus, answered an immediate “no”, making Sirius huff.

He didn’t text him back, because he didn’t really care about what his little brother wanted. Apparently, he understood the message, because seconds later another text came: “whatever. my roommate is here, so behave.” Sirius rolled his eyes — he didn’t knew Regulus’ roommate, but it had to be someone equally annoying if he put up with his bullshit. He arrived to his apartment, knocked on the door and waited.

The annoyed face of his brother appeared in front of him, and begrudgingly he moved away so Sirius could walk in. Usually, he would’ve been smirking, ruffling Reg’s hair just to make him scoff, and throw himself on the couch. Today, he just slowly sat on a chair, motioning for his brother to sit in front of him.

Regulus rolled his eyes, closing the door and humoring Sirius. He sat in front of him, his back facing the bedrooms, and raised a single eyebrow — “Well?”. Sirius fidgeted with his hands, and taking a deep breath, started talking.

Regulus reaction was exactly what Sirius expected — “Do I look like someone who gives a fuck about your sex life, Sirius?”. But, seeing that his brother was actually conflicted about it, and hearing that James useless Potter couldn’t help, he sighed and nodded briefly, listening. The door of one of the rooms cracked open, but Regulus paid no mind. Sirius, on the other hand, lifted his gaze — and immediately closed his mouth.

“I’m killing myself” Sirius blurted out after a few seconds of silence, still without looking at his brother — because his eyes were now fixed on Remus motherfucking Lupin. Regulus, still unaware of what was happening, mumbled “Great. Can I watch?”, but frowned when he noticed that Sirius was pale as a ghost, looking behind his head as if he had seen Walburga Black herself.

Sirius and Remus made eye contact for approximately ten seconds, before Regulus turned around and noticed that he was standing there. Apparently, his little brother wasn’t as good as reading people as he thought, because instead of realizing what was going on, he just scowled.

“Great, now Lupin can help with your problem too. He probably has better advice than me” Regulus said, just wanting to leave the conversation. “My brother is apparently fucking a guy who-“

“Shut the fuck up, Regulus” Sirius practically cried, resting his head on his hands trying to hide the blush that crept up his face. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. This was the day Sirius Black killed himself, because there’s no way Remus didn’t hear him rambling about wanting to have something more, wanting to be something more.

Remus was still quiet, which honestly was terrifying. Regulus narrowed his eyes, and it clicked — Sirius knew it clicked thanks to the groan he suddenly let out, and the sound of the chair scratching the floor, meaning he stood up.

“Really, Sirius? My roommate?” Regulus said with the most annoyed voice he could muster. He turned towards Remus, looking horrified. “My brother? You are disgusting. Absolutely disgusting”. Sirius didn’t even want to look up, but then he heard Regulus locking himself in his room, and he knew he was alone with Remus, and-

“You’re overthinking”

Sirius made a little pained sound, like Remus voice alone was enough for him to have a stroke and die. “I’m perfectly fine”. He mentally slapped himself, because the way he said that was definitely not convincing at all. Oh, he was fucked, and not in the sense he liked-

“Sirius”

He lifted his head as soon as his name left Remus lips, because how could he not? He was used to hear him whisper his name between kisses, when he moaned and closed his eyes in pleasure. But now? It was soft. Soft. What was he supposed to do with that if not look? If not beg for him to say it again?

Remus sighed, walked towards the couch and sat in front of him, just where Regulus was sitting seconds before. He looked so collected, so calm — but Sirius knew better. He noticed the way his fingers drummed against his knee, the way he bit the inside of his cheek. “Let’s have a chat”.

And Sirius, for the first time, was terrified of what was going to come out of Remus’ mouth.

[andy-15-07]

Hiii! Would you write a hurt! Kraven x reader fic like... he comes home seriously injured after a hunt and she patches him up?

Injuries and Care

pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x female!reader

word count:2549 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

The day had been long and treacherous—one of those days when every instinct screamed danger, yet Sergei could not resist the call of the hunt. You’d spent the morning preparing a quiet afternoon together, unaware that the man you loved would soon return battered and bruised, both in body and spirit. When the sharp rap of the door startled you, your heart pounded with anxious anticipation. As you opened it, there he stood: Sergei Kravinoff, his dark eyes shadowed by pain, his usually immaculate attire splattered with blood and sweat. He leaned heavily against the frame, struggling to smile through clenched teeth.

“Sergei… what happened?” you managed, rushing to his side as concern immediately overwhelmed you.

His voice was low and gravelly. “I… I encountered more than I bargained for out in the wild today. There was a beast—a wild, furious creature that caught me off guard. I fought it, but… it overpowered me.” He hesitated, wincing as he tried to shift his weight. “I needed to bring it down, to prove my worth… for the thrill of the hunt… for you.”

You gently guided him inside, supporting him as he sank onto the old sofa near the entryway. “You scared me, Sergei. Your life is far too precious for any hunt. Come on, let me take care of you.” With trembling hands and a voice full of compassion, you helped him remove his jacket to reveal deep gashes along his arms and torso. His skin, marred by cuts and bruises, told the story of a battle he’d fought with every ounce of strength. One particularly jagged wound on his side seeped steadily, the dark red contrasting with his pale, sweat-slicked skin.

“Stay with me,” you murmured, retrieving the first aid kit from the shelf. “I’m not letting you face this pain alone.”

Sergei managed a wry smile despite his agony. “I’ve always prided myself on being self-sufficient… But sometimes, even the strongest warrior needs a refuge. Thank you, my love.”

You set to work, carefully cleaning each wound. As you dabbed antiseptic on his skin, he winced and murmured, “It hurts… but your touch—it makes it bearable.”

“Shh,” you soothed, wrapping a soft bandage around his arm. “I need you to stay still, Sergei. Every mark tells a story, but I’d rather see you healed than hunted down.”

He sighed, his eyes meeting yours with vulnerability rarely seen in the fierce hunter you adored. “I always believed that strength was measured by the scars you earned. Yet here I am, scarred in more ways than one.”

You paused, looking deep into his eyes. “Strength isn’t only about bearing scars—it’s about knowing when to lean on someone. Let me be your strength, Sergei. Let me help mend not just these wounds, but the parts of you that bleed unseen.”

He squeezed your hand, the grip both desperate and tender. “You have no idea how much I need you right now. I’ve spent my life chasing danger… and in the process, I forgot what it meant to feel safe.”

As you continued your careful ministrations, the room filled with soft conversation. The hum of the old house settling provided a backdrop to the honesty that flowed between you both.

“Tell me,” you asked gently as you bandaged his shoulder, “what went through your mind during the fight?”

Sergei closed his eyes for a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was so focused on the thrill—the raw, undeniable call of the chase—that I lost sight of everything else. And then, in a single moment, reality hit me: I wasn’t invincible. The pain… it reminded me of my mortality.”

You nodded, your eyes brimming with empathy. “I wish you’d never felt that fear, that pain. But maybe this is a chance—a moment to understand that no hunt is worth risking your life, or ours.”

He managed a soft chuckle despite the pain. “You always manage to ground me. Even now, as I lie here broken, I see that my fire doesn’t have to consume me. Perhaps it’s time to let someone else share the burden.”

The room grew quieter as you both settled into the gentle cadence of honesty. Outside, the light began to fade, and the only illumination came from the soft glow of a bedside lamp. You propped Sergei up with pillows and continued to check his wounds, your fingers light and deliberate. Every so often, his eyes would flutter open as if in a silent thank-you, his gaze lingering on yours with gratitude and something deeper—a silent promise of shared futures.

“Sergei, promise me something,” you said softly, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. “Promise me that from now on, you’ll let me worry for you. That you won’t face every danger alone. I love you too much to see you hurt.”

His eyes, usually so fierce and unyielding, softened as he replied, “I promise. I’ve always been a lone wolf, chasing shadows and thrills, but you… you’ve shown me that even a hunter can find solace in vulnerability. I’ll try to be more careful. For you. For us.”

The dialogue carried on into the night, as you recounted memories of earlier days—when the two of you first met, when you discovered each other’s hidden depths. “Do you remember our first adventure?” you asked one moment, a playful glint in your eye. “You were so determined to prove yourself, yet you ended up in a trap in the forest. I had to rescue you, didn’t I?”

Sergei chuckled, a sound that was both amused and self-deprecating. “How could I forget? I was stubborn enough to believe I could outsmart the wild, only to be humbled by it. And you… you saved me then, just as you’re saving me now.”

The memory made you both laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that filled the small living room with warmth. “I still don’t understand how someone as fearless as you could be taken down by a trap,” you teased lightly. “Maybe you should have let me do the saving.”

He grinned, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “I was saving my best charm for you, wasn’t I?”

Between laughter and quiet confessions, the night wore on. You meticulously applied salves and rewrapped bandages, interweaving care with conversation. “I want you to heal, Sergei—not just these wounds, but every part of you that aches from a life of constant danger,” you confided. “Your worth isn’t measured by the hunts you conquer, but by the love you share and the life we build together.”

He looked at you, his voice soft and sincere. “You’re right. I’ve spent so long trying to prove something to myself, to the world… but all I needed was you to show me that my true strength lies in the love we have. I’m tired of letting the thrill overshadow the quiet beauty of simply being alive.”

In the midst of that tender conversation, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes shone with a mixture of pride and regret—a reminder of all the battles he’d fought, both with wild beasts and his inner demons. “There’s a beauty in vulnerability, Sergei,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his knotted hand. “The scars we bear are not just marks of pain—they’re reminders that we have lived, loved, and survived.”

He exhaled slowly. “Perhaps my scars will one day be seen not as symbols of failure, but as testaments to a life lived fully. And with you by my side, I know I can face anything—even the parts of myself I’ve long denied.”

The conversation shifted seamlessly into future dreams and quiet hopes. “Once you’re well,” you proposed one evening as you both sat by a small window overlooking the garden, “why don’t we take a little vacation? Somewhere safe, where the only hunt is for sunsets and quiet moments. A place where we can truly be ourselves without the constant threat of danger.”

Sergei’s eyes lit up with cautious optimism. “That sounds… perfect. A retreat where I can relearn what it means to live without always chasing the next thrill. To just be… alive.”

There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of your synchronized heartbeats. “I want us to dream together,” you added. “Not just about adventures and battles, but about a future where every day is a gentle reminder of our love.”

He reached across, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I used to believe that my legacy would be built on conquests and trophies. But now I see that my true triumph is in the quiet moments—when I’m with you, when I can let down my guard and simply exist in your light.”

The nights blended into mornings, each sunrise a gentle reminder of a second chance. One early morning, as soft light filtered through the curtains, you found Sergei already awake, sitting by the window with a contemplative look. “Every sunrise feels like a promise,” he murmured. “A promise that even after the darkest night, there’s hope.”

You joined him, cradling warm cups of tea in your hands. “It’s the promise of a new beginning,” you said. “A reminder that no matter how harsh the world may be, love will always light our way.”

He smiled, eyes distant yet focused. “I spent so many years hunting the thrill, trying to fill a void. But now I understand that the real chase is for love, for meaning, for the moments we share that make life worth living.”

Later that day, in the quiet sanctuary of your small garden, Sergei’s tone shifted as he broached a subject that had weighed on him for some time. “Do you ever think that all these scars, all this pain, is just a mask? A way to hide from the possibility of being truly seen?” His voice wavered with vulnerability.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ve seen you, Sergei—the man behind the hunter. The fierce warrior is only part of who you are. I see your heart, your doubts, and your dreams. And I love every piece of it. It’s okay to let the mask slip now and then.”

He drew a slow breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m learning that it’s not weakness to be vulnerable. It’s… it’s human. And with you, I feel safe enough to let that side of me show.”

The intimacy of that exchange created a cocoon around you both—a safe space where neither danger nor pride could intrude. “I’ll always be here,” you promised. “Not to fix you, but to walk beside you as you heal. Your journey is ours to share.”

Over the next few days, as Sergei continued to mend physically, you both began to explore deeper parts of yourselves. Mornings were spent in quiet reflection, with Sergei often gazing out at the horizon as if searching for something beyond the endless hunt. “I used to think the wild was all there was,” he confessed one morning, voice hushed. “But now, I wonder if there’s more—a life where the only chase is for dreams and shared moments.”

You smiled softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Every day with you teaches me that love isn’t about perfection or conquest. It’s about acceptance, about the courage to face our own fears. And I promise, no matter how rough the path gets, I’ll be here to remind you of the beauty in healing.”

There were lighter moments too. One rainy afternoon found you both curled up on the sofa, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you reminisced about past misadventures. “Remember that time you got lost in the woods during a sudden storm?” you teased, laughter dancing in your voice.

Sergei’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “How could I forget? I was so determined to prove I wasn’t afraid of nature’s wrath, only to end up drenched and shivering while you navigated us home using nothing but the stars.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the soft patter of rain against the window. “I still say that night was one of the best adventures we’ve had. Not because of the danger, but because it brought us closer.”

He leaned in, his voice tender. “Every adventure, every challenge—good or bad—has led me to you. And that, above all else, is the greatest treasure I’ve ever found.”

As the weeks passed, the memory of that brutal hunt—and the wounds it left—became interwoven with a newfound understanding between you both. The scars were visible reminders of the dangers he’d faced, but they also symbolized the turning point in his life: the moment he realized that vulnerability and love were not weaknesses, but sources of true strength.

One cool evening, as twilight draped the room in gentle blue shadows, you sat beside Sergei on the worn couch, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating his thoughtful expression. “Sergei,” you said softly, “I want you to know that your past doesn’t have to dictate your future. Every scar, every painful memory, is a reminder of how far you’ve come—and how much love has helped you through.”

He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions—regret, hope, and an unspoken promise. “You’ve given me more than you could ever imagine,” he whispered. “You’ve shown me that it’s okay to heal, to be vulnerable. I was once a man who measured worth in battles and scars, but now I see that my true legacy is the love we share.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Our love is our sanctuary,” you replied, voice thick with emotion. “No matter how fierce the storm outside, here we have a haven where both of us can be truly seen.”

In that moment, as the night deepened and the quiet hum of your home enveloped you both, you understood that every whispered conversation, every shared tear and laugh, had been a stepping stone toward a future built on trust, vulnerability, and undeniable love.

As sleep eventually claimed Sergei, you stayed awake a little longer, watching over him and reflecting on the promise of each new day. “Rest well, my love,” you murmured into the quiet dark. “Tomorrow, we’ll build on this healing, this connection, and together we’ll write a new chapter—a chapter not defined by the scars of the past, but by the strength we find in each other.”

And so, in the gentle silence of the early hours, as dawn tiptoed over the horizon, you made a silent vow: no matter what challenges awaited, you and Sergei would always find your way back to this sacred space of understanding and care. The wild may call to him, and danger may lurk in the shadows, but here—in this home, in this shared heartbeat—you had found the true prize of life: a love that healed, a love that endured.

Together, you faced the promise of a new beginning, where every scar was a story of survival, every tender word a step toward a future filled with hope. And as the first light of day embraced you both, you knew that this journey, as painful as it sometimes was, was the one worth living—side by side, heart to heart, forever intertwined in the gentle art of healing and love.