#i do think they love each other in their ways

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Bathing with Ni-ki;

Pairing; fem!reader x cute boyfriend! Nishimura Riki Synopsis; In a tender moment, you and Ni-ki share an intimate bath, exchanging teasing touches, and sweet kisses. Genre; Fluff. But a bit suggestive. Warning; None (?) A bit of sexy tension because... you and him are naked.. (?)

A/N: I've had this idea for a few days and couldn't rest until it was finished, so here it is. I wanted it to be longer but whatever. It's still cute and intimate and that was the main goal! Likes and reblogs are always welcome, thank you so much!

As you stepped into the warm, soapy water, you immediately felt your body relax, loving the way it wrapped around you. You sat down in the tub, planning to wait for your boyfriend, but since he would take a while, you decided to start the bath by yourself. This way, when he arrived, you’d only need to focus on taking care of him—because knowing Ni-ki, he would ask you to wash his hair.

This wasn’t the first time you and Ni-ki had showered together, but last time it was a shower, and now it was a bath. And it seemed more intimate to you, so you felt a bit shy just thinking about it. Pushing those thoughts aside, you continued washing up. As you finished rinsing your hair, your boyfriend appeared.

Ni-ki entered the bathroom in just his underwear. His eyes immediately scanned the room, and when they met yours, he gave you a sly smile. Your eyes travelled along his body while he kept his gaze locked on you, waiting to see your reaction. You quickly turned your head away, closing your eyes and laughing.

“Come on, hurry up!” you said in a playful tone, knowing he was teasing you on purpose.

“Why are you closing your eyes? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before,” Riki joked, but you didn’t look at him. Instead, you stayed still, looking off to the side and laughing. It was true, of course, but it still made you shy.

You only looked in Ni-ki’s direction once you heard him settle into the tub, his movements causing ripples in the water. When you finally turned to face him, you noticed only half of his torso was submerged, his skin glowing in the water’s reflections. He was smiling like a kid, savoring this precious moment with just the two of you.

Sitting across from him, you admired how childlike he looked, his arms resting beneath the water shyly. Then he spread his legs, signaling you it was time to change positions. Slowly, you lifted yourself and turned around, resting your back against his chest and your head on his shoulder as you nestled between his legs. Your feet planted themselves on the tub’s bottom, and you curled your legs against your torso.

Your boyfriend’s large hands quickly wrapped around your waist, savoring the calmness and warmth of your body against his. He then moved slowly, kissing your hair sweetly before nuzzling his face into your neck, his nose brushing against your skin lovingly.

“I love this,” Riki confessed, a smile on his lips as his hand softly caressed your cheek with his thumb.

You turned to face him. “Me too,” you replied, giggling when he brushed his nose against your ear.

“But we do have limited time. Remember what Jungwon said?” you reminded him, your hand now travelling to his handsome face, his oreo hair still completely dry.

“I know,” he said in a low voice, sulking.

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, soaking in each other’s presence and warmth. His long fingers gently caressed your sides under the water while your head rested on his shoulder, your eyes closed.

“Your hair smells so nice!” Riki said near your ear, inhaling deeply. “Can you wash my hair, please?” he asked excitedly, loving the way your gentle fingers always left his hair feeling perfect.

“How can I say no to you?” you teased, nodding. You signaled for him to turn around and move back a little to give you room to wet his hair and he did obediently.

“You have to go lower,” you complained with a laugh. His head was too far from the water because of how tall he was, so he let himself nearly fall backwards onto you until his head was almost submerged.

You couldn’t resist how cute he looked—eyes closed, lips slightly pouting, and his head completely wet. Gently, your fingers moved over his scalp, ensuring his hair was fully soaked so the shampoo would work better. Without him noticing, you leaned down and gave him a soft, upside-down kiss on his plump lips.

Ni-ki opened his eyes, surprised, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. Smiling, you pulled him upright to start washing his hair.

“Use your shampoo, please…” Ni-ki asked, pouting. He loved smelling like you—it made him feel close to you at all times.

“Of course, baby boy,” you teased him, knowing he hated the nickname. But he let it slide, enjoying the moment. Carefully, you lathered his hair with your shampoo, the scent of fresh fruit filling the bathroom. Your skilled fingers gently massaged and cleaned his hair, bringing a sense of calmness and safety to him. You gently gather his front hair and massage it a bit more, noticing his bleached hair is starting to feel stronger.

“You’re so good at this…” Ni-ki said in a low voice, his deep tone sending shivers through you. Flustered, you felt your cheeks warm as you continued. Once his hair was fully washed, he dunked his head under the water to rinse, your hands still massaging his scalp.

The sight before you was breathtaking: his muscular body covered in bubbles, water drops rolling down his abs before disappearing under the water. Your mind wandered, and your cheeks burned even redder.

Ni-ki opened his eyes to find you staring, your mouth slightly open. Smirking, he teased, “You okay, baby?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, laughing lightly. “You just look so good, I was—”

“I know what you were thinking…” Riki interrupted, his tone teasing as he turned to face you. For the first time, he allowed himself to fully take in your beauty.

The water rested just below your chest, exposing your neck and shoulders your skin getting goosebumps under his intense gaze. Your wet hair was pushed back, making you look even more stunning. Slowly, Ni-ki’s hands reached for your waist, pulling you closer so he could seal your lips with a kiss.

You can feel his bare skin against yours, his lean abdomen against yours, your chest firmly pressed against his. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to share his skin with you so you can be impossibly closer. His lips are slow but hungry against yours, devouring you with eagerness you have never seen before, his tongue carefully fighting yours to gain dominance.

Pulling back for air, Ni-ki admired you—head tilted back, eyes closed, and lips swollen. He could feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest.

“Y’all better hurry up!” Heesung yelled from outside, startling both of you. “I NEED TO USE THE TOILET!”

The urgency in his voice made you and Ni-ki laugh, breaking the mood. You stood up, stepping out of the tub to wrap yourself in a towel.

Your legs felt like jelly, and your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. Your hands trembled slightly, the intimate moment with Ni-ki still vivid in your mind as you shyly dried yourself.

Ni-ki stayed behind, finishing his bath while regaining his composure. After a few minutes, as you slipped on one of his t-shirts, he appeared behind you, his tall frame looming over you. You turned around, only to be met with the sight of a wet Riki, a towel wrapped low on his hips. You gulped, your eyes instinctively traveling up and down his body, your breath caught in your throat.

“We… huh…” you stammered. “We have to go… Heesung needs…” Your eyes locked with Riki’s, his gaze so intense that it robbed you of the ability to form coherent words. “Heesung needs to come here,” you finally managed to say, your voice quivering as you bit your bottom lip.

Riki leaned forward, his tender lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Give me five minutes to dress, princess.”

Turning away, flustered, you tried to compose yourself, but the mirror in front of you betrayed you, reflecting every moment. Quietly, you watched as he dressed, unable to tear your eyes away. Speechless, you absorbed every movement until, within a few minutes, he was fully dressed.

As the both of you leave the bathroom, Heesung is waiting by the door.

“What happened in there?” Heesung asked with a smirk, noticing how you avoided Ni-ki’s gaze.

Looking at Heesung, Ni-ki smirked back, his hand resting on your lower back. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, comment below!

[cuteandhughesy]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Nico Hischier

summary: nico hischier acting as your fake boyfriend to try and get your family off your back this holiday season seems like the perfect solution - or so you thought.

14.9k

warnings: SFW! fake dating | friends to lovers | suggestive themes and dialogue | kissing | jealousy | angst | fluff | mentions of anxiety |

a/n: based off this request! is this a plot i’ve seen before? absolutely! do i eat it up every time? ABSOLUTELY! hope you guys enjoy my third fic of my christmas special—I cant believe it’s almost christmas 🎄 this was originally supposed to go up on Christmas eve, but i finished it early 😘

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"I think the only way to solve this is if I jump off the highest mountain in jersey."

bree pauses her stirring hand, glancing at you sternly over her shoulder. "don't jump off anything, y/n/n."

you let out another unsatisfied grunt, a disgruntled noise that has come out your mouth many times since you arrived at your best friend's apartment - and you've only been here an hour.

the sound of the wooden spoon scraping along the metal soup pot starts up again, bree continuing to mix her homemade chicken vegetable soup she coerced you over with.

you watch the blonde with a pout on your slightly chapped lips - but it matches the rest of your appearance, so you're not even bothered that they are dry. resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you can't help but zone out and drown in your own dreadful bubble.

you've been feeling overwhelmed and stressed since last night. it started as you'd just finished eating your sad excuse of a frozen meal dinner, beginning to queue up the next episode of stranger things - when your evening was interrupted with your mom’s call.

"mom? is anything okay?" you answer quickly, brows pulled together in a curious manner.

you can hear her gentle laughter through the grainy line. "don't sound so scared to speak to me, honey. everything is fine."

you sigh. "just wasn't expecting a late night call is all....what's up?"

"well," she singsongs, and you can practically hear her wide smile through the phone. "you remember my friend susan, right? from work?" you hum once, so your mom continues. "well she has a son named scott, and he's around your age."

"why are you telling me this?"

she tuts her tongue like it should be obvious. "they are staying at same same skii cabin resort as us this christmas! and you're still single so I want you to meet each other - get to know one another."

that has you sitting up in a hurry, she's blown wide as you take in your moms words. "mom, no i'm not going to entertain this."

"why not? he's nice and cute-" your moms familiar voice fades into the background, as you can't focus on anything but the swirl of panicked thoughts in your head.

you've been single for three years - three years since your last boyfriend cheated on you with his macdonald's co-worker. honestly his first red flag should've been working at macdonald's at his big age of 28 - you should've broke up with him right then and there.

since then, your mom has been wanting you to get back out there, and 'give her grand babies' - you try to not shutter just thinking about it. she's been trying to get you to meet a million different young men, changing between her friends kids and even random baristas she meets at her local starbucks. and honestly you're just tired of it.

you won't find the love of your life through your mom - and it seems that only you can see the logic behind that.

you'd been looking forward to the few days away from the city for christmas, especially with your boss really coming down on you about upcoming new year business proposals that were honestly out of your job description. now your extended weekend that was supposed to relaxing and festive was tainted by your mom and this mysterious scott dude.

you come back to, your mom still lengthly explaining the christmas plans and scott and everything else in between. you huff anxiously, and before your brain can stop the word vomit that is festering on your tongue, you interrupt her.

"i'm bringing someone to christmas."

the blabbering in your ear comes to a quick stop, your mom going completely silent on the line.  "who?"

you swallow, "my boyfriend."

the conversation went on for a bit longer, and you had blabbed about your fake boyfriend without giving away any type of physical details- heck you even avoided giving him a name. when your mom had asked, you told her that you didn't want to give anything away - the element of surprise much more enjoyable.

you cringe thinking back on it, closing your eyes tightly. you are so screwed.

the front door opens quickly, alerting you and bree to her boyfriends arrival. it's only a few seconds following the thud of his hockey bag hitting the hardwood floor that dougie saunters into the kitchen, hair still damp from his post-practice shower.

he looks up from his phone, finding you sitting with a frown at his kitchen island. "what's up with you?"

this time it's bree who groans out. she takes the spoon out of the soup and sets in on the countertop, spinning on her heels to look at you and her boyfriend properly—without straining her neck. "don't get her started."

you squawk. "bree! you're supposed to be consoling me."

she pouts at you, "I know - i'm sorry." bree swiftly moves towards you, wrapping her small arms over your shoulders sweetly. she smells like broth and caramel perfume, which is an oddly comforting scent. "I just don't like seeing you so stressed."

dougie peeks in the soup pot, humming softly at the sight of the various vegetables swimming among perfectly shredded meat. he turns back to you both, leaning back against the counter as he stares you down. "so are you going to tell me? or do I have to wait for you to leave, which inevitably will have bree spilling her guts."

"dougie!" your best friend screeches, eyeing her boyfriend wildly.

you all but whine, letting your eyes fall closed in pure embarrassment. "I'm screwed." you manage to mumble, one eye peeking open to look over at dougie.

he looks rather amused at your dramatics, and you kind of want to get swallowed up and never be let go. "why?"

you take a deep breath. "because....because I told my mom that I had a boyfriend and was bringing him to christmas."

dougie snorts and bree sends him a warning glare. immediately he stops, playing off the laugh with a small cough. "you don't have a boyfriend."

you eye him irritatedly. "you think I don't know that?" bree, like the most amazing and supportive friend she is, begins gently rubbing your shoulder, grounding you. you take another shaky breath, your earlier pout returning. "I just...my mom was all pushy and wanted me to meet her co-workers son and I just panicked."

bree gently pipes up. "you didn't give him a name or talk about his appearance, y/n/n - it gives you some freedom in trying to find someone. maybe you should re-download hinge and make it known in your bio that you're needing a christmas date."

you pull a face, the thought of scrolling through medacore men who don't meet your ethical standards and are most likely teetering on borderline homophobic doesn't sound appealing - like, at all. "i'm going to pretend I can't go - i'll just tell my mom something came up."

"hold on," dougie steps forward, resting his palms on the island. he looks between you and bree, his brows pulled together as he gathers his thoughts. "you didn't give your mom a name?"

you hum. "or any physical attributes."

a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, and he looks rather pleased with what we thought he's conjured up in his mind. "hear me out here...what If you take nico?"

you blink once. and then you blink again.

behind you, bree gasps. "that's a good idea!"

you shake your head, clearly confused. "he's not going home for christmas?"

dougie shakes his head. "no, the schedule didn't work in his favour, and his parents can't come out for a four day break. he was telling me today he was just going to be alone at his apartment....but maybe he could go with you."

it's....its actually not a bad idea. you like nico, he's always been so kind and sweet anytime you two have been together - which, granted, was quite often. surprisingly enough, nico and dougie were really good friends, and anytime you, bree and him wanted to go out, dougie would have nico join along. it's been like that for a few years, and the dynamic between you and nico was easy.

but...."no, I can't put him through that. you know how my mom is, and she's going to be all over him! and my sister and her husband, and god I can't have my niece getting attached....I just can't."

"you can." dougie hums, pulling out his phone from his sweatpant pocket. "you're just making excuses - nico won't care if your family asks questions. he's a team player who will easily help you with all your problems." he's busy swiping on his phone, barley glancing at you as he talks. "plus, it's not like he'll be out of your life after this - I already know he will be your fake boyfriend as long as you need him to be."

"dougie, no." you sigh.

"yes."

"no."

"too late," dougie hums, "i'm face timing him right now."

you left watching in horror, dougie coming around to your and bree's side of the kitchen island. you squawk, "absolutely no - dougie don't." 

he's setting his phone up against the vase of flowers in the middle of the counter, displaying all three of you on the ringing face time screen. dougie looks at you, and grimaces. "try and look pretty. you look like a mess - c'mon."

bree smacks his arm. "dougie!"

you're not even going to disagree with him, because you do look like a mess. your hair is slicked back with your own oil - too lazy to get into the shower before coming over. your face is bare and you're in the middle of your period, with lingering hormonal pimples littering along your chin and jawbone. all that combined with your anxious eye bags, dry skin and ice cream stained pyjama shirt - well let's just say you've looked better.

your eyes widen as the sound of the call changes, indicating that nico is picking up the phone. "seriously I don't - heyyy nico." your hushed and panicked whisper towards your best friend's boyfriend quickly changes as nico hischier’s face takes over dougie’s phone screen.

"....hey?" he looks confused, and rightfully so. you're sure the last thing he expected with a call from his assistant captain was to be met with not only him, but his sheepish looking girlfriend and her hot mess best friend as well. his eyes move between the three of you, brows pulled tightly. "you guys okay?"

his accent sounds thicker through the phone, voice deeper....it's kind of comforting and as soon as your brain registers that calm feeling, it lets you spew. you begin telling nico all about your situation, but it seems that dougie and bree has the same idea, and all nico can hear is a jumbled sentence.

"y/n needs your help." dougie says, the words barley reaching nico's ears over bree's - "and she's just really stressed." that combined with your pouty lips as you tell him, "and his name is scott - like what kind of name is scott?"

you all come to a stop, eyeing nico through the phone screen. he adjusts the angle of his phone, giving you a glimpse of his location, which seems to be on his couch. "you're going to have to say that again, y/n. couldn't hear you over dougie's loud mouth."

so you tell nico everything - just you this time - starting with getting the phone call, your mom trying to set you up, your fake boyfriend lie and dougie's reason for the facetime. the entire time nico listens, not even interrupting you once as he digests the spoonfuls of information.

you sigh gently, "and dougie shouldn't of called you, nico. I really don't want to ruin your christmas by dragging you into my mess and-"

"i'll help you out." this time, nico does interrupt you, his soothing voice agreeing to the whole fake boyfriend story you'd thrown at him, cutting off the end of your lengthy ramble.

"really? why?"

he shrugs through the screen, a gentle smile beginning to pull on his face. "i'm not doing anything else. you're my friend, y/n, I want to help you out."

the relief that floods through you is ethereal, and you can already feel some of the stress leave your body. "nico, thank you...thank you, oh my god, okay I'll text you the details."

he grins. "looking forward to it."

the phone call ends just as the soup starts to bubble loudly on the stove, which has bree cursing, skipping back towards her food and turning down the burner. as she returns to stirring the mixture, she shrieks happily, glancing back at you. "no hinge needed!"

"you're welcome." dougie chimes playfully, pocketing his phone before he moves to grab three bowls from the cupboard, ready to serve some of bree’s delicious chicken vegetable soup.

although you're feeling stress free about the actual boyfriend part of finding a fake boyfriend— thanks to the devils captain— there is still the matter of having to prep nico for your family, as well as playing pretend with one another in hopes of convincing your family that you and nico are in love.

....and the stress is back, prickling under your skin in a way that has you jittery. you can only just pray nico doesn't get overwhelmed and ditch you on the side of the road on the way up to the lodge, leaving you to fend for yourself while he speeds back to the city.

bree slides the hot bowl full of soup in your direction, plopping the gold spoon into the liquid before she leaves. you thank her gently, and as you dig in into the meaty broth, you begin to create somewhat of a plan for you and your fake boyfriend.

DAY 1

you text nico after leaving bree and dougie's apartment once you had settled back at your place, assuming your usual lounging position on the living room couch. you send him the main details of your family christmas getaway like the name of the resort and it's location, as well as when you'll be leaving and how long you'll be staying.

thankfully, the devils schedule almost perfectly aligned with your families getaway, meaning that nico would be able to spend the entire holiday season with you and your family—he just has those leave early on the 25th for the boxing day game—which you can't yet decide if you're relieved about or stressed about.

regardless, three days after your impromptu facetime call on dougie's phone, you and nico are packed up in his car, backseat full luggage and various wrapped presents— all ready to head up to the ski lodge.

it’s been 5 minutes since nico pulled out of your driveway, and you still haven't said anything other than your initial greeting. the pressure of the day ahead is knawing away at you, turning your stomach into a wave pool of nerves.

the christmas music flows quietly through the speakers, providing a comforting hum in the background. nico keeps switching his gaze from the road to the side of your face, analyzing your anxious eyes as you zone out, nibbling the skin around your thumb nail.

he sighs gently and with a free hand turns the already quiet music completely off. the lack of the original taylor swift christmas song in your ears snaps you out of your daydreaming, looking over at nico with a tight pull to your eyebrows.

"why does your face look like that?"

you frown, "like what?"

"like you've just shoved your nose full of expired smelling salts," nico smirks at his own joke, glancing over at you once again. "seriously what's going on that head?"

you take a deep breath, your mouth opening and closing like a tiny fish—unsure what you want to admit. you don't want to seem ungrateful for nico‘s help by complaining, and you don't want to look stupid and embarrass yourself for being so nervous about spending christmas with your family. after a moment, you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at nico.

his flickering gaze is soft—comforting—and it has you faltering, head falling back against the head rest with a thud. "I can't lie." nico huffs a laugh, and you almost scoff at the sound. "i'm serious - I can't lie."

"technically, you're not lying."

you eyes widen comically, looking over at him wildly. "what part of this trip isn't based on a lie."

he sighs gently, fingers flicking on the cars turn signal as he approaches the highway lane. nico has always been so nonchalant in your presence, the complete opposite of you at any give moment, and honestly you're envious of that. he glances at you quickly, pulling onto the highway. "I mean, it's not like we are strangers—we're friends."

you don't say anything, too busy trying to understand what he actually means by that. nico smirks easily at you, "so we only have to pretend that we kiss and well....fuck."

you blush. "nico!"

“it’s true.” amused, he looks at you. "and, well, you can't turn ted anytime makes a suggestive comment.”

groaning, you pull your knees to your chest, creating a spot for you to hide your burning face, tucking your head between your kneecaps. "can't help it." you say, but all nico can hear is your muffled voice making no sense as you talk into your legs.

"it's okay." he reassures you lightly. "so, what's your family like? what do I need to know?" he changes the flow of topic easily, which successfully has you pulling your head up.

"well." you start, voice a pitch higher than normal—contemplating what to say. “my mom she's very.....out there. she's not shy, and her social awareness isn't very high, meaning she doesn't care about strangers or what they think of her." your eyes flicker away from the busy highway infront of you, looking over at nico to gauge his reaction.

he hums, "what else?"

you sigh, eyes finding the road once again. "she also loves me...too much I think. and she always wants what's best for me — even if she thinks that's scott."

"she sounds fun." nico's words take you by surprise, because fun usually isn't the first word that comes to mind after describing your dear mother. you quickly turn your head, but much to your surprise, nico isn't joking. he's being sincere—smiling softly. "honestly she sounds like my mom."

the mention of nico's family has you feeling a bit hallow, and you remember the only reason he's able to help you out is because he couldn't fly out to be with his family. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling the skin until it feels sore. "i'm sorry about your family, nico. I really wish it would've worked out for christmas."

he shrugs once, glancing back over at you. "it's not your fault. besides, i'm here with you, right? so my christmas is coming together." you deflate slightly, nico's sweet and almost vulnerable words leaving you feeling rather soft. "so who else will be there? besides your mom and this scott guy?"

you huff a laugh, "well I don't know how much of scott we will be seeing now that i'm bringing you, but I do know that my older sister, tammy and her husband brody will be there. along with my niece, taylor - hence the disney princess wrapping paper." you thumb over your shoulder where there are multiple oddly shaped presents, all wrapped in disney paper.

nico snickers, sending you a teasing look. "thought you were just wrapping your own gifts."

"nico!" you laugh sweetly, "you’re ridiculous."

he smiles. "okay, okay. how old is your niece?"

"she just turned 6, back in november." you hum, leaning over slightly to turn the radio back up—only at volume 2—letting the familiar jingles add to the ambiance of the snowy jersey weather.

one of nico's brows raise. "so you've got a birthday twin?"

"wha-how do you know my birthday is in november?" you're clearly baffled, looking at nico like he just told you he met your long lost twin.

he glances at you wildly. "I don't have a brick for a brain! c'mon y/n/n, just because dougie is a stupid hockey player doesn't mean I am."

a dig at your best friends boyfriend never fails to make you chuckle, and you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, keeping yourself warm. although nico was joking around, you still aren't sure how he knew the month you were born in—how he remembered when your birthday was. it's just not something you thought nico would take note of. you don't do big parties for yourself, and you don't even post to social media—bree being one of the only people to celebrate you online.

your laughter dies down gently. "i'm just suprised that you'd remember."

his lips tug downwards in the beginning of a frown. "why would I forget?" nico's eyes flicker to yours once again, holding your gaze with a soft and warm expression. you take in a shaky breath, unable to find yourself wanting to look away from nico. his words, although nothing that deep, feel like the bottom of a warm lake, heating your chest with his question. it's a bare minimum that you've yet to experience with any boyfriend, real or fake.

he clears his throat quickly, eyes flickering away from your face and back through the snowflake covered windshield. "okay, what are our rules here? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with any of this fake dating stuff."

"oh. right, ummmm-" you blink, trying to recover from the abrupt shift in conversation and shift in your heart. "well to start, any question that my family asks about us and how we met, just tell them the truth. no need to fabricate some elaborate story—especially considering i've brought you up before...god my mom is going to die when she sees you." you mumble the last part to yourself, already picturing your moms face when you tell her the nico you're dating is also your friend nico.

he doesn't hear the end of your scentence, and only nods understandably, switching lanes. "got it."

you continue, "and this relationship between us is a new thing-- i'm talking’s within the last two months new. if they ask we say that we were just testing the waters of our relationship. and that gives me an excuse of why I hadn't told my mom about us before tuesday."

"that's good" nico hums appreciatively, clearly impressed with the little plan you'd made for you both. "plus it will make us look less insane when we are all over other and acting lovey dovey. that it’s just the honey moon phase."

your belly swoops, and your eyes widen in a slight panic. "why would we be all over each other?"

nico looks almost dumbfounded at your rushed question, his brows practically touching the edge of the hockey branded beanie sitting across his forehead. "because we are supposed to be dating."

you feel a little stupid in that moment, and when the end of nico's reminder is accompanied by a teasing smile you begin to feel very embarrassed. you try not to face palm, clearing your throat. "right, duh! that makes sense then." nico nods in amusement, which really has you wanting to face palm.

wanting to get back to the earlier discussion of rules, you hum in continuation. "I think cuddling and stuff is fine, right? like we can cuddle on the couch and hold hands in town."

"if you're comfortable with that." nico says, shooting you a glance, taking in your face to try and dissect your expression—trying to find an answer on your face before you say anything.

you laugh once, and even that sounds weird—no wonder nico keeps looking at you. "why wouldn't I be?"

"you're turning red just talking about it."

you face falls. "i'm going to throw myself out of this car."

"no, no." nico chuckles. "any other rules you want to lay down?" his eyes twinkle with playfulness as he shoots you another glance. "like what about kissing?"

obviously you blush because what. you don't let yourself react in the way your body desperately wants to, instead you keep your posture the same, humming in thought. "we don't need to kiss unless absolutely necessary."

once again, your eyes fall back to the driver's side, looking at nico as you wait for his response. you watch him smirk softly, eyes still on the busy roadways as he answers. "sure."

the rest of the car ride is filled with easy conversation and multiple impromptu karaoke sessions— nico laughing anytime you turn the music up and claim that it's impossible to not sing along to a justin bieber christmas song. the easiness of the whole dynamic between you and nico has you feeling much more at ease than you'd been when he first picked you up, and the idea of bringing nico to meet your family is becoming increasingly less stressful.

that is until your mom open the door, squealing in excitement at the sight of you and nico parking in the un-shovelled driveway of the rented ski cabin—waving at you both—your stress levels start to rise back up.

you swallow nervously, the sound of the car engine shutting off setting in your ears - there's no escape now.

"hey," nico mumbles, gathering your attention. he gently reaches towards you and gives your shoulder a reassuring and grounding squeeze. "don't worry too bad. it'll be okay."

all you can muster is a nod, watching through the front windshield as you sister peeks over your moms shoulder, her perfectly styled hair blowing in the wind.

"wanna get the bags now?"

"no," you finally speak, shaking your head. "save them for later just incase we need an escape route."

he chuckles. "okay dramatic - let's go."

with another encouraging nod from the devils captain, you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting out the car along with nico. at the sight of your face, your mom screams, waving at you like a crazy woman from the porch—the woman didn't even put on a coat before coming outside, leaving the door wide open behind her. "y/n, honey! you're here!"

"i'm here." you make your way up the pathway, nico's hand providing a ghostly pressure on your lower back as he trails behind you. "merry christmas momma."

she scoops you into a tight hug, kissing the side of your head repeatedly until it feels like all her lipgloss has transferred to your hairline. "merry christmas! and oh, honey don't be rude—introduce us to this handsome man." over your shoulder, your mom catches sight of nico and his ridiculously charming smile.

he looks so relaxed and happy that you're jealous. you're also jealous that nico manages to look that good after spending 2 hours in a car—but that's not important.

you quickly wrap your arm around nico's torso, bringing yourself into his warm side. nico easily follows suit, wrapping his hoodie covered arm around your shoulders, giving you another comforting squeeze. you smile—extra big—at your mom, rubbing your free hand over nico's covered stomach. "right of course, this is nico. my boyfriend."

recognition flashes across her face, eyes darting between you and your fake boyfriend—who you are currently cuddling with on the cold porch in front of your mom, an action that is very out of the ordinary for you. you can only pray she doesn't think too hard about everything. suddenly, she gasps. "nico?! like your friend nico?"

you scrunch your nose through a faux smile, "that's the one!"

she laughs, "is that why you were so secretive over the phone? so it would be a suprise?"

"yes." you say through gritted teeth, arm tightening around nico's muscular torso, grounding yourself through your white lies.

your mom beams again, hands clutched to her chest as she admires you both - granted your shivering and your toes are borderline frozen.

"it's nice to finally meet you, ms. y/l/n. i've heard so much about you." nico says easily, his accent perfectly complimenting his relaxed tone and demeanour. he removes his arm from your shoulders, and you fight the urge to pout from the lack of warmth, watching as nico puts his hand out for your mom.

she dismisses the formality, moving towards him with her arms wide open. "oh, honey, please call me ella - and i've heard so much about you, I can't believe you're finally here."

your eyes close in embarrassment, face flushing a deep pink as your mom embraces nico.

"mom, let them come in! it's freezing." your sisters honey laced voiced calls out from inside the house, and you can see her making her way back towards the front door, taylor on her hip as she easily saunters over.

your niece happily shouts as she catches sight of you, begging to be put down. tammy obliges, but tells her to wait until you get inside, not wanting a coat and shoeless toddler to walk onto the wintertime porch. behind her, your brother-in-law joins you, smiling and waving at you through the open door before pressing a kiss to your sisters head.

"yes, of course." you mom smiles, turning on her heels and walking through the door. "c'mon in you two, before you turn into ice."

too late—you think.

right before you and nico can pass the threshold into the log cabin, you mom puts her hand out, stopping you with a playful smile ghosting her face. you sister looks borderline fed up, closing her eyes at your moms actions, and brody just looks excited.

confused, you quirk a brow. "what's happening right now? you all look very weird."

you mom points up, "honey, you're under the mistletoe!" you smile falters, your eyes slowly moving up until you catch sight of the array of green mistletoe leaves dangling above you and nico. "it means you have to kiss - house and mistletoe rules."

nico laughs awkwardly beside you, warm eyes also on the festive plant.

"mom, no." you follow suit, chuckling through your discomfort as you set your sights back on your mom.

her brows pull together, a frown overtaking her face. "what, why not? just a little smooch?"

"they just got here, mom. at least let them take off their boots before you make them get to business." you sister—ever the saving grace—tries to move on from the discussion, sending you a wide eyed look behind your moms back.

you nod in thanks, "yeah. don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"

"why would that be inappropriate?" she gawks. "nico doesn't mind, do you?"

"I mean-"

"i'm your child, and you just met him." you interrupt whatever people-pleasing answer nico was about to spew, looking at your mom with an expression mixed up of amusement and bewilderment.

"c'mon, y/n," brody chimes in playfully. "it's not like we are asking you to suck his-" tammy smacks her husbands chest, a warning for him to not finish that scentence. "ouch, babe!"

"little ears." your sister reminds, gesturing to your six year old niece, who is still bouncing on her heels, desperate for you to get inside so she can steal you away. "don't egg her on." tammy is talking about your mom, who is still clueless on why making you kiss your supposed boyfriend when they just meet him is a bit weird.

the whole situation is stressful and overwhelming, and you kind of just want to turn around and make a run for the car. as if nico can sense your anxiety, his grip around you—now with his arm around your waist—tightens ever so slightly, reminding you that you're okay.

you swallow nervously. "let's not make nico-"

you're interrupted by the firm press of nico's lips on your cold cheek, kissing your face gently. the action seems to momentarily silence your family, but soon you can hear your mom cheer happily, mumbling something about how she 'should've taken a picture to send to your aunt shirley'

but you’re too distracted to register anything other than the lingering kiss against your cheek, and there's no doubt that your flesh is warming right under nico's lips. he pulls away, an easy smile taking over his face—like he's not even affected.

brody snickers, "see, y/n? wasn't so hard."

it seems that everyone is satisfied after that, your mom too busy texting on her phone to stop either of you from coming inside—thank god because you're pretty sure the inside temperature has dropped 10 degrees from the door being open.

as soon as you shut the door, taylor comes skipping over, her gapped tooth smile wide as she looks up at you. surprisingly, she doesn't attack you with hugs, but instead stops in front of nico. she looks up at him curiously, her hands resting on her tiny hips. "who are you?"

her bluntness has you laughing, even more so as you take in nico's amused expression, looking down at your niece softly. he bends down to meet her level, placing his hand out infront of her. "I'm nico, i'm your aunties boyfriend. what's your name?"

he already knows her name, but the formality of it all has you melting slightly, watching the interaction with an amused look. her tiny fingers splay over his palm, doing her best at shaking nico's large hand. "i'm taylor. you’re my auntie y/n's boyfriend?" her bright eyes flicker between you and nico curiously.

"I am."

she hums. "but you're too pretty for her."

you gasp, hiding your laughter. joining nico in his crouched position, you drag your giggling niece into your chest, lightly tickling her torso. "excuse you missy!"

"I don't know, taylor. I think your auntie is actually too pretty for me."

"yeah." she shrugs lightly, finally breaking free of your tickling. taylor shuffles back towards nico, "do you want to see my stuffies?"

"you have stuffies?" nico beams, "of course I want to see them." it's instantly that taylor grabs nicos fingers, leading him through the log cabin and presumably towards whichever room she's loaded off her stuffed animals in. you can hear taylor's excited babbling all the way down the hall, accompanied by nico’s enthusiastic responses as they disappear out of sight.

"honey can you go make sure she doesn't bore him to death. I can picture the tea party now." your sister sighs, looking at her husband expectantly.

"yeah," brody then looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his expression that you have grown to recognize. already, you're rolling your eyes. "I can't believe you're fucking an nhl captain y/n. good for you."

"go!" tammy hides her laugh behind her hand, but you can still hear her amusement through the muffled sound. brody waggles his eyebrows in your direction, further teasing you as he leaves.

thankfully your mom had slipped into the kitchen in the time you and nico had been talking with your niece—saving you from facing her after your brother-in-laws ludicrous comment. you can hear brody mutter something along the lines of 'course i'll go talk to the professional athlete, fuck kinda question is that?' — but you can't be so sure.

tammy grabs onto your arms, guiding you into the large, high ceiling living room. from what you've seen of the ski lodge so far, you're very impressed. it's got that rustic christmas feel that reminds you of your childhood, with grand windows and entry ways that overlook the winter scenery. with only a 5 minute drive to the hills, the resort was practically perfect.

you let your sister plop you onto the worn leather couch, the plaid throws scrunching behind your back as they slip around. tammy immediately sits down beside you—close enough that you're touching knees—facing you with wide eyes. "what the hell."

you make a face. "what?"

she scoffs a gentle laugh, eyes darting all over your warm face. "how long have you been crushing on nico?"

"what-what do you mean?" you blush timidly. you're unsure why the question has you feeling nervous—feeling caught—because nico is just a friend. a ridiculously generous friend who immediately agreed to spend christmas with your family to help you out, and is currently playing with your niece just because she wanted him to....its fine, really.

"well you've told me and mom that he was just a friend—you've been saying that for years and now you're dating? what's that about."

"oh, right." you really need to get a hang of the whole fake boyfriend thing, because the amount of times just today you've already forgotten is just criminal, and you're practically begging to get called out. you huff a gentle laugh, tucking your loose hair behind your ear shyly. "I don't know something just....changed."

"clearly." tammy laughs brightly. "how long have you been together?"

you swallow nervously, thinking back to the discussion with nico in the car about this very question. "only a few months. we kept it secret just in case...you know—bree and dougie are the only ones who knew."

tammy nods understandably, but a disgruntled expression quickly forms on her perfectly blushed face. "i'm kind of offended you told dougie before me."

"if it makes you feel any better, dougie was the one who set us up - so I didn't technically tell him anything." the twisted truth comes easily, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for that one.

"fine. I feel a little better." tammy smiles, shifting her body so that she's tucked against your side, loungewear covered legs bent towards her chest as she relaxes into you. her blonde hair tickles your neck as she tilts her head up towards you, eyeing you with a playful undertone. "he's cute."

"hey! hit on your own man." you try and push her off of you gently, but tammy doesn't allow it, wrapping her arms around you tighter as she laughs.

"i'm just stating the obvious, y/n/n." her nickname for you has you feeling warm and fuzzy, settling back into your cuddly position. you and tammy have always been close, even with your 6 year age gap. you've always done everything together, and told one another all your secrets—so you feel guilty for not telling her about nico, even though it's not real.

"you really like him?" tammy's question is a gentle and sweet whisper, looking up at you like she just knows.

you nod, probably too fast and too enthusiastically—but thankfully tammy isn't paying attention to that, only listening to your words and watching the way your eyes change into a more relaxed and emotional state. "of course," you breathe, smiling. "I mean...he's always been really sweet and kind. always making sure I feel comfortable in a crowded room, checking in on me when he hasn't seen me in a couple days. and well, just today he's made me the most relaxed i've felt in a long time...." you trail off, clearing your throat gently. "sorry, god i'm blabbering."

tammy shakes her head softly, gently grabbing a hold of your hand. "it's okay. it's sweet."

"auntie y/n! look at nico!" the tiny and shrill voice of taylor interrupts the rather tender moment, but thankfully it allows you take take a calming breathe and let your heart rate turn back to normal. your niece skips down the hall, dragging nico behind her as they round into the living room.

the sight of nico has you stifling laughter. "oh...wow."

nico smirks, hands held out as if he was showing himself off. the princess aurora tiara nestled in his brown hair catches the setting sun, sparkling in the dimming light. that combined with the bright pink lipstick smeared around his mouth and the lime green tutu that is 5 sizes too small for a professional athlete around his hips is just too much. "handsome right?"

you hum, nodding sarcastically as he gives you and tammy a spin—showing off taylor's work. "oh yeah."

when nico faces you again, he winks—so quickly you're not even sure if it happened. it has your face warming once again, your sister nudging her pointed elbow into your side as she wordlessly teases you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

after a very amusing hour of dress up—which of course you got dragged into—you all had dinner, thanks to your mom and her random bursts of energy that allow her to cook up roast dinners every other day.

dinner went surprisingly well, and nico seemed to fit into the family dynamic nicely. it was a weight lifted off your chest as you watched him easily discuss sports with your brother in-law and excitingly answer all of your moms borderline intrusive questions. it's full of laughter and honestly you're surprised at how well everything seemingly is going—it's a relief you didn't think you'd get to experience this christmas.

after a long travel day for you and nico, you both decide to retire to bed early, leaving your sister and your mom in the living room— your mother shouting out a general explanation of which bedroom is yours as you go.

you're not sure what you were thinking, but the sight of the large bed in the middle of the room has you feeling nervous, stomach swooping at the thought of having to share a bed with nico. you suppose you believed that some part of your mom still pictured you in highschool with a boyfriend and would make you and nico sleep in separate rooms or beds.

clearly not.

the bed looks absolutely heavenly though, with lots of fluffy pillows and a nice duvet with complimenting throw blankets draped over the corner—you can't wait to sink in and pass out.

nico, who had gone and got your luggage right after dinner, drags both of your suitcases towards the dresser, the gentle click of the handle sliding back into place echoing throughout the room. he turns back to you, "I can sleep on the floor if you're uncomfortable."

your eyes snap away from the luscious bedding and over to nico—he must’ve seen your blank stare. you shake your head quickly, "no - no, we are adults. i'm not going to make you sleep on the floor."

you can practically see the relief on his face and in that moment you're completely convinced that nico would've set up camp on the rug if you asked him to.

you continue, ignoring the weird flutter in your stomach. "plus my mom will probably burst in here every morning to wake us up and I don't want to make up some lie about why my boyfriend is sleeping on the floor instead of in the bed."

"of course." he chuckles, the quiet sound settling through the warmly lit bedroom comfortably. "what side do you want?"

you snicker, waving your hand as if you're trying to appear nonchalant. "oh, i'm not picky."

nico eyes you, one brows raised in question as if he can see right through your attempt at coming across easy-going—you've never even been close to that. "are you lying?"

your shoulders deflate. "yes."

he laughs again, watching as you make your way over to the left side of the bed, tossing your phone in front of the pillows as if you were marking your territory. "it's furthest from the door." you hum like it's obvious, looking at nico with timid eyes.

"sure." he hums softly, eyes lingering one yours for a moment longer before turning away.

nico has his back turned to you, digging through his carry-on in search of his toiletry bag. you watch the way his muscles move, his compression shirt giving you the perfect view of the ripples and hard work he's put into his body. you've never really noticed how in shape nico is—I mean sure you've like noticed he's got muscles because he's a professional hockey player...but you've never appreciated them like you are right now.

"y/n?"

you blink. "huh?"

nico smirks, and you instantly realize he's caught you checking him out. you blush wildly, trying your best not to collapse into an awkward puddle. "I asked if you want to use the bathroom first."

you clear your throat, "no go ahead."

he gives you another knowing smirk before disappearing into the on suite bathroom (which, holy, how nice is this place), travel toiletry bag and a new pair of sweatpants tucked under his arm. as soon as the door clicks shut, you let out a deep breath—one you hadn't realized you'd been harbouring.

thankfully you hadn't worn makeup today, knowing that you’d be travelling—the feeling of being stuck with makeup on your face during the couple hour drive here sounded like a living nightmare. so while nico is busy in the bathroom you quickly change into your christmas red striped pyjamas, shoving your dirty clothes back in your suitcase before nico can see.

the door opens again just as you locate your toothbrush, revealing nico is his team branded sweatpants and...oh he's not wearing a shirt. you swallow heavily, eyes quickly flicking over the expanse of his muscular torso. "bathrooms free." he says, easily moving towards the bed.

you nod. "yeah, thanks."

right before you can shut the door, he calls your name, stopping you in your rather frantic pursuit into the bathroom—which is lingering with the scent of nico's cologne. he smiles at you playfully. "i'll keep the bed warm."

that's it - you're going to drown yourself in the toilet.

DAY 2

you managed to not drown yourself last night—shockingly enough. after nico's fluttering eyes and stomach swooping tease last night, you'd made some stupid joke, one that you can't even remember—you're pretty sure you blacked out. you shut the bathroom door quickly, taking as many deep breathes as you felt applicable.

the entire time you'd been brushing your teeth, you just kept going through calming mantras in your head, desperately trying to grasp ahold of the shit show inside your head. thankfully the rest of the night was easy—easy because as soon as your head hit those inanely comfortable pillows you were out.

the reason for waking up this morning—like expected—was because of your mother, who loudly entered your and nico's room with a tinsel covered sweater and bright smile. "wake up love bugs. taylor wants us all to go into town and look at the trees together!"

you're then hyperaware that nico is obviously still without a shirt, and you happen to be tucked against his bare chest like your life depended on it. his peck, although it doesn't look it, is a surprisingly comfortable pillow. your body stiffen's against him, but before you can roll away, nico tightens his grip around you, keeping you in place.

"give us a few minutes." you manage to tell her, practically rigid against the devils captain. "nico isn't wearing pants." you can hear him make a noise of protest beside you, pinching your hip between his fingers.

"take your time you two!" she sing songs, leaving the room with as much pep in her step as usual. as soon as the door clicks closed, you push off nico, but he doesn't let you get too far, fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

"why'd you tell your mom i'm don't wearing pants?"

"I panicked."

"you're ridiculous—you know she's going to think we had sex now." his amusement is clear, and although it's at the expense of his dignity, nico is enjoying the humor of it all.

you shrug, slipping out of the bed. "hate to break it to you but they already think that."

through the mirror you left your bag in front of, you watch nico eye you from the back, his brows pulled curiously. "and why's that?"

"didn't you know? i'm secretly this like crazy minx who brings different boys to family trips and-" you're interrupted when nico tosses a pillow towards you, his laughter echoing throughout the room.

"get dressed freak."

—

you think one of your favourite things about being around nico is that no matter how his comments make your stomach swoop and how his gentle lingering eyes leaves your heart pounding, it's always easy to speak with him and just...be his friend.

which you suppose is normal with friends—you think?—its kind of hard to tell. you've only been close with your sister growing up, and then when you met bree in college she became your only other companion. when bree met dougie and inevitably started dating him, it opened up this new world to you; going to events and games, meeting so many people all with different personalities and backgrounds.

meeting nico was different though, because unlike the catalog of people that had come in and out of your life, nico was a constant. in the four years of knowing him, he's always managed to be that person—that friend—you felt you'd been missing. despite always playing nonchalant about your relationship with nico, dismissing him to be just a casual friend, you did really like him and cherish that friendship...and it kind of scares you.

after you moms abrupt wake up call, you and nico quickly got ready for the day, bundling in your warmest clothes to bare the chilly downtown weather—granting your nieces christmas tree browsing wishes.

the town is decorated beautifully, with stunning icicle lights dripping from every building, red ribbon wrapped around poles and pulled into bows at every corner, and the trees—filled with various sized and shaped ornaments that perfectly encapsulate the christmas season.

it feels like something out of a hallmark movie with the gentle pressure of nico's hand in yours, guiding you both behind taylor as she excitedly makes you look at everything. your sister and brody watch in amusement, very used to their daughters excitable personality. and of course your mom makes you and nico pose for hundreds of photos, because she has to 'capture the beautiful moment and the beautiful couple.'

she evens asks for you and nico to kiss—again—but just before you have to make up another excuse, brody chucks a snowball right at your chest. you immediately start hurling them back at your brother-in-law, distracting everyone from another non-kiss moment between you and nico.

after a few hours in town you all head back to the lodge, stomachs ready for some warm food to heat up that achy cold emptiness.

you place the serving tray full of freshly buttered buns in the middle of the table, next to the sour cream and shredded colby jack cheese—both necessities with your moms homemade chilli.

on the other side of the table, nico places one of the last bowls, the ceramic dishes clanking together—it's a peaceful noise, one that's often heard in kitchens. his eyes suddenly flicker towards you, and when he catches your stare a slinky smile curves at his lips. "are you judging my placement right now?"

the tease—so mundane and playful—has your smile growing, butterflies tickling the lining of your growling stomach. "never."

his gaze narrows, "well i'm definitely judging your butter abilities—that spread is so uneven."

you gasp, "think you could do better, hischier?"

"oh," he laughs, "I know I could."

you smirk, picking up one of the grapes sitting loose in the fruit bowl at the end of the counter, tossing it in nico's direction. but like the coordinated athlete he is, catches it in his mouth, chewing the crunchy grape slowly—winking at you while he chews.

"y/n," your mom looks at you over her shoulder, "do you mind just finishing adding the herbs? I gotta run upstairs quick."

"sure." you hum, making your way over to the stovetop, taking the long handled wooden stirring spoon from your mom. she thanks you with a squeeze on your arm before waltzing out of the kitchen, disappearing up the stairs.

as you begin twirling the utensil through the thick chilli, you feel nico come up next to you, his chest brushing against your arm. "why are you stirring it like that?"

you look up at him with wide eyes, your amusement clear. "you are just tearing my cooking apart today."

he laughs, "you're not cooking anything. you're simply just spreading and stirring."

a noise similar to a scoff falls from your mouth, and you tear your gaze away from nico quickly. "i'll spread something all right." you mutter with faux irritation, turning your shoulder away from him.

nico laughs again, chest rumbling against your skin. "that sounded dirty." his forearm wraps around your torso, holding you against his chest.

you're momentarily speechless with the feeling of nico touching you so intimately. your slow stirring comes to a stop, the end of the wooden spoon almost falling into the pot—but you don't notice. your head slowly falls backwards, resting just under nico's collarbone. "what are you doing?" you ask quietly, looking up at him.

nico leans down, his lips brushing against your ears. "what does it feel like i'm doing?" his breath is warm on you and you feel a static travel over your body—from your ears, down to your neck and shoulders, even reaching your toes.

"it feels like you're trying to hit on me." your words comes out breathily, barley reaching your own ears.

"maybe I am," he shrugs, and like he didn't just send your heart plummeting to your stomach, nico says, "your sister is watching us."

discreetly your eyes dance towards the large living room where you catch a glance at tammy—who is trying to not make it look obvious as she stares at you both lovingly, a cheesy smile on her face.

"so the only reason you're touching me is because of the audience?—that's a bit freaky, even for you nico."

he pinches your side lightly, which sends you squirming backwards, further into his embrace—chilli and herbs long forgotten. "i'll take any excuse to touch you, y/n."

nico looks down at you warmly, that boyish grin on his face that makes him look so warm and cuddly. you feel your face heat up at his insinuation, and you look away from his playful expression, bowing your head so you're looking back to the chilli.

"you're so pretty when you blush," nico mummers against your skin, pulling you back to his chest.

your blush deepens, a light laughter bubbling through your chest as you playfully push him away. "you're distracting me."

before nico can say anything else, the distant voice of your mother approaches. "and this is the kitchen! isn't it just so beautiful susan? I mean not just the lodge but the whole resort."

susan? who the hell is—oh my god.

nico watches your face drop, your eyes darting towards the kitchens entryway as the voices grow closer, this susan lady answering your mother just as enthusiastically.

he's quickly back at your side, a gentle hand brushing against your lower back. "what's wrong?" nico's question is hushed—determined.

you're honestly surprised that you can hear his whisper over the blood rushing in your ears. the rush of anxiety that pumps through your blood is overwhelming, and the reason you'd brought nico to your families christmas vacation comes trampling back. you swallow roughly, "susan...she's my moms friend and-"

"guys, this is my friend susan and her son scott!" your moms chipper tone halts your scentence, you and nico watching silently as your mom gestures to the unexpected company.

scott is...actually not that bad to look at—which is a gold star on your moms part. the dark haired man is standing merely few feet away from you as he moves to greet tammy. he's got that finance bro look to him, with a crisp button up shirt underneath his puffer vest—why men insist to wear vests inside is something you'll never understand.

he greets brody like a typical male would, bringing him in for a quick slap on the back—a smile on his face that shows his perfectly white teeth.

"y/n, honey this is scott." you mom singles you out, which of course she does, pointing towards scott with a wink in your direction.

you can feel nico stiffen against your back, his forearm snaking back around your waist. before you can think, you let your hand rest over nico's, interlocking your fingers between his resting against your torso.

"nice to meet you, y/n." he greets with a grin. "i'm scott. i've heard so much about you."

"you too, scott." you smile politely. "this is nico-"

"her boyfriend." nico finishes your scentence firmly, the hand that wasn't around your body jutting out on the other side of your body for a handshake. 

scott breathes a laugh, shaking his hand. "boyfriend, huh? lucky guy." briefly scott's eyes flicker back towards you, eyeing you with a look you can't decipher. you feel yourself shrinking further back into nico, seeking that comforting aura that is the devil's captain.

"very much so." he agrees firmly, squeezing the flesh of your hip. there's a tense moment of eye contact between the two men, almost like a wordless battle of alpha male energy—which isn't very like nico.

scott hums curiously. "you look really familiar. do I know you from somewhere?"

"must have one of those faces." nico answers modestly, shrugging his shoulders once.

tammy waltzes into the kitchen, followed by her husband who is holding taylor in his arms. hearing the tail end of the conversation, brody pipes in with a quick laugh. "he looks familiar cause he's the devils captain dude—we are in the presence of jersey royalty."

"a professional athlete?" scott questions, that curious but condescending tone still laced in his voice. "bit unstable, no? unpredictable with trades and that?"

"can be. thankfully i've been lucky enough to have been with the devils since 2017."

"lucky indeed." once again, scott's eyes flicker back to you—giving you that awkward and uncertain feeling.

sensing the tension, tammy quickly intervenes. "taylor did you want to show scott and susan your stuffies before dinner is plated?"

taylor glances towards the two guests. "no." then her tiny brown eyes move towards you and nico, and instantly she's skipping towards you both. "nico can you sit beside me at dinner?"

something prideful blooms in your chest at taylor's request and dismissal of scott and his rather uncomfortable presence. "I don't know taylor," you begin teasingly, "I wanted to sit beside nico first."

she laughs, her adorable toddler giggle like music to your ears. "how about we both sit with nico."

you hum in faux thought. "should we ask him? see what he thinks?"

"yes." she giggles.

nico, who has obviously heard the entire interaction, pretends like he was unaware of the conversation happening quite literally in front of him—he ponders the question playfully, index finger tapping against his chin. when he tells taylor that he will sit with both of you, her tiny face lights up, and you can't help the way yours does as well.

dinner is served very quickly after, brody on serving duty as he fills every bowl with a hefty amount of chilli. the dinner runs relatively smoothly, saved for a few condescending questions from scott asking about only nico. for somebody who was seemingly trying to get to know you—despite having a boyfriend—scott seems to be really interested with the man beside you rather than you yourself.

thankfully only an hour after dinner and enduring painfully boring conversation with susan and scott, they end up leaving to go back to their lodge, and that god because you desperately are ready for sleep by that point—excusing yourself and nico as you head towards the bedrooms for another much needed nights rest.

you pull the duvet back, creating enough space for you to climb in.

nico follows suit, slipping under the cool flannel sheets. "scott seems..."

you interrupt his trailing thought. "like an asshole?"

"yeah." he breathes. "truly what is that guys deal?"

"I don't know." you roll onto your side, facing nico with a huff. "I can't believe my mom still invited them to dinner. even though susan is supposedly her friends—who, by the way i've never heard of before tuesday. I thought she would've at least...I don't know, respected my boundaries? i'd that fucked up to say?"

nico shakes his head against the pillow. "no, it's not."

you groan, your irritation clear. "and then when she first introduced us and she winked at me? like hello what is that about? because as far as she's concerned i'm clearly not looking for a relationship. I brought you here for this exact reason and-"

"hey," nico breathes gently, gathering your attention by running his hand over your pyjamas sleeve covered arm. "it's okay, you're okay. I understand that you're feeling stressed and frustrated but don't get in your head about this."

you take a deep breath, nodding.

nico continues, "I don't think she had any malicious intentions with inviting them to dinner. I think she was pleasing people—like you would."

"I just wish her people pleasing didn't involve a literal walking bag of crap."

nico breathes a quiet laugh at your insult. "she just wants what's best for you, y/n—like you said. she doesn't realize that it's making you uncomfortable and she's too distracted by it all to notice that scott is 'a literal walking bag of crap.'"

your lip tugs upwards slightly.

"you should talk to her about it."

you groan, face rolling into the fluffiest part of your pillow. "I think as my boyfriend you should tell her for me."

"i'm not actually your boyfriend." he laughs.

you scoff. "way to ruin the mood."

nico's smile is barley visible through the dark bedroom, but you can still see it and the sight had you following suit, a grin taking over your face. he rest his head on his bicep, facing you. it all feels so intimate and precious that you never woke to forget it.

your heart beat feels like it's dangerously fast, making you feel the best kind of nervous. you're glad the room is dark because you blush, clearing your throat. "i'm so happy that you're here nico. I don't know what I would've done today if you weren't here."

his smile falters slightly as he swallows thickening salvia, eyes trained on your face softly through the moonlit room. "i'm happy i'm here too..with you."

DAY 3

you peer down the snow covered hill, gnawing on your lip in an unsure manner. "does it seem bigger from up here?" your hands wrap around the ski poles tightly, desperately trying to keep yourself from moving forward.

nico expertly slides in front of you, his skis bumping yours. "do you want to go back down? we can just walk back to the lodge if you're feeling scared."

you shake your head quickly. "i'm not scared...im just worried about falling on my face." truth of the matter is that you are feeling scared—scared because you actually hadn't skied since you were 10, and you'd actively avoided the actual ski part of your holiday trips by sitting in the lodge and reading whatever book you'd been into since then—but not this year.

nico wanted to get out on the hills, and even though he said that he didn't mind if you wanted to stay at the house or even in the holiday themed ski lodge, you didn't want him to feel alone out there, especially because he's doing you a favour in just being apart of your families christmas—so here you are on top of the ski hill. plus, any excuse to get away from scott, which of course your mom invited him and susan to spend the day with you all, you'd take.

"you're not going to fall on your face." nico tells you, his tone gentle as he looks down at you.

"you don't know that." you say. "what happens if my ski catches a divet in the ice and I go head over heels into the snow?"

he laughs gently. "the only reason you'll fall is because your hairs in your face—here." nico ditches his poles in the snow, and with glove covered hands he reaches towards your face. gently he tucks your hair underneath your hat, pushing away any hairs that have fallen out from your braid.

you swallow, eyes flickering over his face. "i'm a little nervous." you finally admit.

"it's okay to be nervous." nico adjusts the strap of your goggles over your pink helmet, moving it into a proper position. "it's also okay to back out."

"I don't want to back out." you huff. "I want to do it."

his lip tugs upwards in a half smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." you nod. "but you have to do it with me." you both make your way—you very cautiously—towards the edge of the slope. "i'm serious nico."

"I won't leave your side, okay? fix your knees like I showed you earlier...yup, just like that." he watches you intently, making sure you're in a proper position. nico finds your face again, an apprehensive look in his eyes. "you sure?"

"think so." you hum. "it’ll be fine." before you can decide to back out, you manually push forward until your skis take over, sliding down the first dip of the hill, sending your downward.

the sound of your skis slicing through the icy snow is a rather relaxing sound, one that has a smile breaking out on your face. the feeling of quickly moving through time, with the cool air kissing your exposed cheeks is rather freeing, and for a moment you're not thinking about anything other than yourself and nico.

you can hear nico follow suit, following your tracks within a safe distance. "good! keep your blades a little bent! like pizza." he calls to you, voice travelling through the wind whipping past your ears.

"am I doing it?!" you question loudly, eyes still casted forward as you reach the middle area of the slope, continuing the rather speedy descent down the snowy hill.

"you're doing it." nico answers proudly—a boyish chuckle following.

"oh my god!" you scream happily, "i'm doing it." you slide over a small lip on the hill, propelling slightly into the air. miraculously, you land with only a small teeter in your legs, continuing to ski downwards.

in a moment of excitement, you turn to look over your shoulder, eyes wide and full of disbelief as you find nico. "did you see that?"

his face falls. "y/n, watch out!"

as soon as nico's warnings finishes, you feel somebody slam into you, affectively sending you off balance and smacking towards the ground. you feel the snow cover your face as you land, and you groan out, eyes closing as a quick wave of pain washes over you.

"holy fuck—y/n are you okay?" the voice sounds a little distant to your ears, like they are muffled. they help you sit up, gently cradling your biceps with their hands as they pull you into a sitting position.

you squint in attempt to focus your vision, blinking quickly to clear the blur. "what?"

nico's concerned face slowly appears in your eyesight. "are you okay?"

you groan again. "I think so."

he breaths loudly—a sound of relief. his hands move from your arms and towards your face, un-clipping the helmet strap from under your chin. nico pulls the hot pink protective gear off your head, leaving you with your damp beanie and snow coated braid. "you scared me for a second there. does anything hurt?"

"not really, maybe just a little sore and bruised." you swallow gently as you watch nico as he gently moves your head from side to side, checking for external injuries. his gaze is so intense—so focused. the embarrassment and lingering pain in your limbs has you feeling emotional, and your lip trembles. "i'm sorry."

instantly, nico's eyes snap back to yours. "don't apologize." he watches the way your eyes begin to well up with tears, quickly looking around as if you're seeing how many people are watching you. immediately he knows you're feeling embarrassed on top of everything else, and he pulls you into his chest, pressing a quick kiss against your hairline over your knitted hat.

you can barley feel the kiss, but it's enough to where the gesture has you melting—melting because he wasn't doing it because somebody in your family is watching or making him…nico simply just wanted to.

"you're okay." he mumbles against your hat.

"I think I wanna walk the rest of the way." you mumble waterly, attempting to joke.

he smiles against you, "you think so?" pulling back, he meets your eyes, a boyish grin on his face. the sight instantly has you feeling better, and with a small grin you nod.

nico helps you remove your boots from the ski blades, popping open every latch and button so you're easily able to slip out of the boot slot. he follows suit with his own ski's, freeing himself of the blades hold so he's left in only the chunky boots.

a familiar voice calls your name, approaching you and nico. "shit i'm sorry." scott says, stopping in front of you with his ski's tucked under his arm. "I didn't realize it was you."

nico stiffens. "you hit her? seriously?"

"I just said sorry man." scott huffs. "no need to get all annoyed."

his brows raise is pure shock, eyes squinting accusingly in the shorter man's direction. "sorry doesn't help. what if she got seriously hurt?"

"she didn't though."

nico breathes in disbelief. "that's not the point."

scott takes a step back, "relax, dude."

"she's my girlfriend. I can't relax."

"whatever." scott looks back towards your shy face, offering you a sympathetic shrug. "sorry again y/n."

you nod once. "thanks."

that's all it takes for scott to leave again, practically jogging away from the both of you, back down the hill. he disappears behind the slope of the hill, and immediately nico is turning back to you, his expression that was only moments ago hard and strong, now soft. "he doesn't deserve your apology."

"I know." you breathe. "but I was done listening to him."

nico nods understandably, but he looks slightly worried—guilty maybe? "are you upset with me about that?"

"no. i'm glad you were here to defend me honestly. I would've crumbled under the pressure of my own need to be a people pleaser." you laugh lightly.

the ghost of a smile takes over his face. "promise?"

you nod. "help me down the hill? I need you right now—my hips a little sore."

in an instant nico is grabbing you, careful of your sore hip as he wraps an arm around your torso. "let me know if you need to stop at all, okay?"

you both begin to slowly walk down the hill, nico dragging the ski stuff behind you. "you worry too much." you tease him, gaze flickering to his face.

he breathes a laugh, not looking away from the hills. "yeah I worry cause I—" he pauses briefly, a gentle gulp following. "cause you're my friend, y/n."

"your friend?" you question his choice of words quietly—timidly.

finally, he meets your eyes. "yeah."

there's a moment then, where you're looking at one another with eyes that say a million things your mouths can't yet. you're unsure whether or not nico was about to admit to something—deeper feelings—before correcting himself, and you're not sure if you'll ever know.

but you're too scared—to anxious—to find out. because if it's not the answer you're hoping for, your christmas eve will be ruined, and your heart will be broken.

you laugh, breaking the tension. "that's not very fake boyfriend of you to say."

nico blinks once, but soon his expression changes into a more playful one, eyes twinkling with amusement. "c'mon y/n/n."

—

the warm bubbles are slightly ticklish against your skin, but it's a pleasant feeling. you sink further into the hot tub, letting the jets and heat do their job on your sore body.

as the sun started setting through the kitchen window, the pain of your earlier incident was only getting worse, and you could barley move without hissing in pain.

after the 8th groan of discomfort during jim carey's grinch, your mom suggested the hot tub. aftet all what good were you trying to put presents under the tree if you couldn't even bend over to pick them up.

the almost instant relief from the hot tub was enough to have you moaning out, submerging up to your shoulders and letting the water splash up your neck.

a beat passes and the sliding door sounds, opening into the cool night. "hey, got the presents from my car." nico stands by the entrance, peering through the dimly lit deck over in your direction.

"did you give them to tammy?" you question gently.

"I did." nico hums, gently shutting the door behind him. "you okay in there?"

"getting there." you sigh, eyes carefully watching as nico makes his way through the covered deck—no doubt the cold snow covered his feet in the slides he’d slipped on before getting the presents.

"anything you need from me?"

the nighttime pain reliever you’ve been popping since getting back from the lodge has you feeling a bit sleepy and loopy—completely erasing any kind of filter you have. you raise a brow, squinting at him through the mist coming off the water. "I want you to get in."

he laughs gently, resting his hands against the edge of the tub as he looks over at you. nico takes his lip between his teeth briefly, eyes flickering over your submerged figure. "didn't bring a bathing suit."

"nico." you whine, dragging his name out.

"you can't get upset with me," he smirks, "you didn't tell me there'd be a hot tub."

"okay, well just strip down into your underwear and get in." you breathe, "promise I won't look." you hold your hand up like your in scouts, looking up at him with most puppy-dog expression you can manage.

"y/n..." he trails off, almost like a gentle warning.

you continue. "i'll even let you have one of my three towels afterwards so you don't have walk back inside in just your underwear.”

his brows pull together. "why did you bring three towels?"

"I like to be extra warm—just get in."

a moment passes—practically watching the gears turn in nico’s head as he debates your ask. just when you think you’ll have to beg again, desperate to have nico close to you, he sighs, pushing off the edge of the hot tub. in one swift motion he pulls his hoodie off, his muscles flexing beneath his rising t-shirt, exposing nico’s hard v-line and happy trail.

you smile in satisfaction, watching as he continues to shed his clothes until he's left in just his black boxer shorts. you try your best to not stare—you really do—but when your fake boyfriend happens to be that muscular and hot, it's hard to keep your eyes away.

he quickly steps into the steaming hot tub, joining you under the water. "happy?"

you smile triumphantly. "very much. I feel better already."

"I bet you do."

a beat passes, only the sound of the running jets to be heard through the night. it's very relaxing, and with nico with you it now feels 10 times better. under the water you extend your leg until your foot gently nudges his leg—grabbing his attention. "thank you again for today. for everything, I just...i'm really happy that dougie called you for me. because I would've been too nervous to ask you myself."

his brows raise. "why would you have been nervous?”

shyly, you shrug. "I don't know, I just didn't want you to think I was...taking advantage of you or something."

"I wouldn't have thought that—I don't think that." nico moves closer to you, the warm water sloshing around slightly as he comes to a stop in the seat beside you. instinctively you turn your body towards him, eyes curious and knowing all at once.

a beat passes.

"did you know when I was a kid on christmas eve I used to convince my sister that if she didn't let me have her last advent chocolate santa wouldn't come."

you grin. "you didn't."

he laughs. "I so did. and I remember feeling like such a badass about it to. then when she found out that santa wasn't real and I was simply just conning her into an extra chocolate she lost it—and I mean lost it."

"what did she do?"

"obviously she told my parents, which was expected." nico hums. "but she also smashed my game system—like completely destroyed it with our dads hammer."

you gasp, "no."

"yeah and I cried like a baby."

you laugh gently.

nico continues. "looking back now I definitely shouldn't of been so sneaky. and now every christmas I always buy her an advent calendar as an apology."

"that's kind of cute." you coo sweetly.

his eyes soften at the sound, watching your head tilt in admiration. "you would really like her. you two are kind of similar."

you stifle a knowing laugh. "after hearing how she smashed your gaming stuff I think I have to agree—one year I sent taylor's favourite scarf for a trip in the fireplace."

nico snickers, "you little rebel."

"don't laugh," you smile. "she had taken my favourite babydoll I'd opened that christmas and covered the entire face in marker. so instead of going to my parents like I should have, I just threw her scarf right in the fire."

"damn," he breathes. "remind me not to steal your baby dolls."

"oh since then i've kept them all locked away, so you'll never find them." your eyes glisten with a playful shimmer, looking at nico teasingly. he mimics your lighthearted expression, a warm smile pulling on his lips.

your eyes wander to his exposed arm, catching sight of the familiar pattern of ink on his inner arm. "i've always like this one." slowly you reach out, tracing the tattoo with a wet finger.

"yeah?" he watches the way your touch moves over the artwork, your fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps on his skin—despite the heat from the hot tub, chills run over his body.

"yeah." you nod. "does it mean anything?"

"it's my families star signs," he points to the first one, tracing the greek symbol. "they all bleed into one another, almost like it's representing a family line."

“nico that’s…really cool.” you smile gently. "when did you get it?"

he laughs gently, a blush coating his cheekbones. "long time ago."

you snicker, eyes flickering back towards his face and away from the sentimental tattoo on his string bicep. “alright old man.”

he quirks a brows at you, amused. "we're the same age."

playfully you shush him, bringing your finger towards his plump lips in a silencing motion.

quickly, nico grabs your wrist, pulling your tiny hand away from his face. his firm yet teasing grasp around your hand sends your skin into a flurry of flames, igniting under his warm palm.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your pouty lips as if he can't decide where to look—what to do.

you lean in ever so slightly, scared that if you move too suddenly you'll wake up from a dream. nico's hold on your hand changes, fingers trailing down your wrist and off your arm.

his hand finds your slick thigh under the bubbly water, and your heart feels like it's going to jump out from your ribcage with how hard and intensely its beating. as nico's thumb begins to rub along your skin, pleasantly tickling your thigh, you think you may just die.

your hand inches towards his torso under the water, your fingernails just scraping softly against his abs—

"I should get out." nico mumbles. "I haven't packed yet and I gotta leave before 9."

you swallow the disappointment you're feeling, blinking away your emotions as you pull your hand away. "yeah. sure."

he gets out of the hot tub, and you can't even watch him as he does. nico wraps himself in one of your towels before gently looking back towards you. "i'll see you inside, okay?"

you hum in acknowledgment.

and then he leaves.

you mope in the hot tub a little bit longer than expected, and by the time you finally drag yourself back inside the only person awake is your mom.

she sits on the couch silently, finishing up some last minute wrapping of what seems like a gift for brody—some football jersey for a team you don't recognize. "feel better honey?" she asks.

you nod once. "yeah, thanks." you start to walk further into the home, towards the stairs, but your mom stops you, calling out your name quietly.

"before you go upstairs," she sighs, "I just wanted to say i'm sorry about scott. I shouldn't have even put that idea in your head when I called you and I shouldn't have invited him and susan around the that times I did. he was not only disrespectful towards you, but he was disrespectful towards nico and your relationship."

your chest warms. "thanks mom. it's okay."

"but I already invited them for breakfast after presents tomorrow—honestly susan is kind of a bitch and the last thing I need is for her to fuck me over to corporate because I didn't have her and her asshole son over for breakfast."

you snort, which has your mom joining in on the hughes laughter. you're truly not upset about that, and if anything the whole thing is so authentically your mom that you're almost glad she invited them.

just when you think she's done, your mom continues with a twinkle in her eyes. "I must say y/n, I've never seen you happier or more comfortable in a relationship that what i'm seeing when you're with nico. honey I don't know why it took you so long to realize there was something more between you because nico is special."

you feel tears well up in your eyes, a million unsure emotions coming to a tilt in your throat. you nod. "yeah. he is."

DAY 4

"do you really have to go?" taylor's tiny voice wobbles with emotion slightly, looking up at nico with her wide animated eyes.

he crouches down to her level, soft gaze unwavering. "unfortunately. I have to work tomorrow.”

"okayyyy." she pouts. "maybe next time you can bring your stuffies for the tea party."

"that's a great idea." he grins at the way your jives face lights up, already giddy at the thought of the next party.

your mom suddenly cooes, moving towards the front door where nico stands with his suitcase. she frowns at him, "honey thank you so much for coming, you've been wonderful."

he stands to his full height, embracing your mom as he wraps her arms around him in a familiar hug. "thank you for having me."

you watch silently, gnawing the skin around your thumb anxiously. you'd been dreading this since you were awoken at 7 by your niece for presents, and saying goodbye to nico today was weighing on you heavily—even with the lingering unspoken words from last nights abrupt departure.

"safe driving, nico." tammy smiles towards him kindly.

brody chimes in, "yeah man, can't have you going down. the devils need you."

your fake boyfriend laughs gently, nodding. "i'll try my best to get home in one piece." then nico's eyes flicker towards you, a soft yet sad expression pulling at his face. he takes a deep breathe, plastering on a bigger smile. "i'll see you when you're home."

you nod, your own forced smile on. "i'll see you then, nico." there’s an unspoken meaning with the goodbye—one that feels permanent and you hate it. with one more emotional glance in your direction nico waves goodbye to your family….and then he leaves.

the hallow feeling that runs through your bones is almost painful, your eyes trained on the spot he was just standing. a million feelings run through you at once—hurt, anger, confusion, warmth, guilt. it's all one big stressful ball, but yet somehow through all that you know there's real feelings for your friend there, ones that have been making your heart run ramped and your stomach flip around with butterflies for years.

"hey," scott's quiet voice interrupts your thoughts, looking over at you with flirtatious eyes. "if things with lover boy don't work out, ill be here." you’d honestly forgot him and susan were here, arriving just after taylor had tore through all her presents for breakfast.

it had you rushing to open your present from nico—because of course he bought you a present—his jersey and a handbag you’d been wanting for years. a handbag that only taylor knew you loved, meaning that he talked to your best friend to get you the perfect christmas gift.

and yeah…you really like nico hischier.

blinking out of your thoughts, you properly turn and face scott. "that will never happen."

you look around the room at your family, who have now all resumed their normal routine throughout the home. taylor’s making your brother-in-law open every new toy so she could play with them, while your mom and susan busy themselves in the kitchen, talking while the kettle boils for another round of coffee.

you catch tammy's eyes and she nods—knowingly. you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, and a tiny smile begins to pull at your lips. "i'll be right back." you mutter, and before you even realize what you're doing, you slip on somebodies slides, leaving out the front door.

the wind blows right though your gingerbread pyjamas, the cold biting against your skin—but you don't care as the only thing you can think about is him. "nico!"

the sound of your voice has him pausing, rounding from the back of his vehicle where he was loading his suitcase in. nico’s brows pull together tightly, looking and feeling rather confused as you hurriedly make your way towards him—merely slipping out of your shoes as you hit a patch of ice.

"what are you doing?" he questions.

"don't go." you words a rushed, looking up at him with a shy confidence in your eyes.

nico sighs quietly. "I don't really have a choice."

you shake your head, eyes closing in frustration. "I know - fuck don't don't go just stay...for a second."

"what are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I like you - like really like you." finally you break, looking towards nico with nothing but vulnerability on your face. "and I think deep down I always knew that, but something about this weekend...watching you interact with my family and seeing how much they like you—it's amplified everything to 100."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying your best at keeping your voice steady as you continue. "and I really didn't think i'd be chasing after a guy in my pyjamas this weekend, but here I am. because you're not just some guy, nico. you're the guy. and I can't let you leave without saying that because I don't think i'll ever have the courage to say it again."

nico swallows. "I can't believe you just told me that." he pauses, a small laugh bubbling past his lips. "and right when I have to leave. because now I really want to stay."

you let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding, relief rushing over you body at his words.

he continues. "I like you so much it's not even funny."

"you do?" you question shyly.

"yes." nico takes a step towards you, now close enough to reach out and touch. "you're my favourite."

"favourite what?" you whisper.

"everything." he reaches out, gently taking ahold of your face between his cold palms. his thumbs stoke along your cheeks comfortingly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes as his gaze moves towards your lips. "what was the rule about kissing again?"

you inhale sharply, your own eyes watching nico's lips inch closer and closer towards yours. "only if absolutely necessary."

"thought so." nico's words are mumbled between you, lips brushing against yours before he finally closes the gap, connecting your mouths in a much desired kiss.

in that moment it's hard to think about anything other than the skillful and practiced kisses nico is giving you, his hand nestled at the base of your skull as he holds you to him, but one thing you do know is that you should've done this fake boyfriend thing years ago.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[sirxlla]

Whispering dirty Christmas lines in the Batboys ears 🎄

----------------------------------------------------

Dick: "Are you a candy cane? Because I’d like to lick you up and down." You said to him through comms.

"Y/N, you know everyone can hear you on comms." Dick stiffled a laugh.

"Oh, shit! Are you serious?" Embarressment and worry filling your voice.

"Nah, I'm just messing with ya. I switched our comms to private." Dick said with major confidence.

"Yeah, you must've not done it right Dumbass cause we can hear you loud and clear." Jason teases as he states through comms. Making your heart fall into your stomach.

Dick, in his embarressment stays silent the rest of patrol, you do as well. He thinks back to the comment in his heart swells proud of you for being confident enough to try to flirt with him considering usually you are fairly quiet and turned into a stuttering mess whenever he would flirt with you.

Jason: He was sitting on the couch reading a book just chilling. Something sweet about Jason is how the both of you needed space from each other on occasion but always came back to bother each other to tell each other about something that the other thought was interesting or random other things. You snuck up behind him even though he a thousand percent knew you were there before you got even close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Is your name Father Christmas? Because you look like a daddy to me." Giggling a bit as you spoke, your lips brushing against his earlobe.

"Babygirl, I'll be whoever you want as long as it makes you happy." He said with a charming smile; Something so lovely about Jason was how he could say just about anything and make it sound like smooth talking. He pulled you over the couch after setting down his book on the coffe table, sliding you into his lap facing him.

Bruce: You were in the cave filling in for Barbara as Oracle because she was feeling extremely sick this evening and Bruce wanted to give you a spin. Of course you have been flirting with him all evening.

"I need help spelling Elf. I have an E and an L. Can you give me an F?" You spouted the random Christmas pickup lines you read online cause this is exactly what Bruce intended the Batcomputer to be used for.

"I'm sorry, what?" He stopped in the middle of what he was doing on patrol.

"Seriously you just now noticed? I've been flirting with you all evening." There was a humor to your voice as you asked him in disbelief.

"Are you serious?" He asked with complete confusion and disbelief.

"Yes, I'm serious." An infectious laughs escaping your lips.

"Well at least youre having fun, Darling." He stated with a smile begging to reach his lips.

Tim: Everyone was sitting down for dinner as you passed him you whispered in his ear.

"Are you the Polar Express? Because I’d like to ride you." That's all it took for him to choke on his drink his face turning bright red. Of course you just returned your seat and acted like nothing had happened.

"What'd she say?" Dick teased Tim, noticing his younger brothers bright red face.

"I don't know but he is sure definitely gonna give Rudolph a run for his money." Jason teased as well.

"My face is not red, I don't know what you guys are talking about." Tim suttered as he lied through his teeth glancing at you. Obviously you had no choice but to look at him but you famed and innocent smile like you didn't just say that until his ear.

Damian: Considering how grumpy of a man he is you kind of knew what to expect when what you flirted with him in any sort of cringey cliche sort of way but that didn't stop you from trying and the joy you felt from his reaction so you walked into the training room.

"Do you believe in kissing someone under the mistletoe? Because mistletoe is what I named my sheets." You asked Damian with a shit eating grin.

"That's the best you could come up with?" He says with a bit of an annoyed tone as he approches you. There's a glint in your eye as you try to run off before you tackles you, a smile graces his thin lips, his smile sharp and cheeky.

"Oh no, I didn't say you could leave." he says in a rather happy tone, a tone he didn't let a lot of people see. He was very mushy on occasion and he could be extremely sweet.

Masterlist

[ssahotchnerr]

pleasepleaseplease, if you're willing ofc 🫶, can we get a little something where jack is trying his absolute hardest to get hotch and r together during the christmas season?! (i can only imagine the romcom chaos and deliciousness that'll involve haha!) 🙏❤️🎄

mistletoe mischief

the dream!!!!! & jack receives some assistance from morgan also :) cw; bau fem!reader, mutual pining, mentions of food, typical cm case talk, bau family banter, feelings realized (with some making out <3), fluff 🤭 wc; 1.5k

It had become tradition for everyone to go to Dave's house for Christmas Eve. And that meant everyone - the team, the kids, partners. The more the merrier.

It was a time to enjoy each other's company, laugh, exchange gifts and indulge in delicious food and treats. It was a nice reprieve from the hectic stress that the holidays brought, and everyone was happy to have it.

Whereas Jack had a different approach to the night. He had decided, that tonight would be the night you and his dad got together. He would make sure of it.

Only, it wasn't as easy as he thought.

All night Jack's done what he could, in hopes of initiating something between the two of you. Dinner was easy, he had sweetly asked you to switch seats with him - how could you have possibly said no? He persuaded his father to team up with you for the 'reindeer games', like holiday bingo, or unscrambling Christmas songs. That had been a small victory; Aaron giving you a celebratory hug when you were the first to call bingo.

But it still wasn't what he hoped. Things like that worked at school, if someone had a crush on another - they sat together in the cafeteria, they teamed up as partners in class, they played together at recess. (Sadly it was snowing outside, and Uncle Dave didn't have a swing set.)

Defeated, Jack found himself slouching on the couch, pouting alone.

Morgan had been the first to notice his minor sulking, making his way over. "What's on your mind big man?"

"Nothing." He mumbled under his breath, picking at the cookies on the plate you had put together for him.

"Nothing? For someone Santa's visiting tonight, you don't look very excited." He sat down, giving Jack's shoulder a pat, an invitation to open up. "Wanna tell me what's up?"

Jack kept his eyes on his treats, toying with the idea of sharing before sighing, asking if Dad liked you. Like really, liked you.

Derek's lips pursed. His expression changed to one of uncertainty, mulling over the situation.

"That's the million dollar question right there. We think so," Derek confessed, thinking back to all the times where you and Aaron seemed much too comfortable. The constant, lingering stares. Aaron going soft on you at times. The fear in your eyes when Hotch had encountered an unsub at gunpoint. This had occurred recently, and afterwards when Hotch was deemed safe and sound, you had refused to leave his side altogether.

"What have you seen? I'm sure you know what's going on more than the rest of us."

Jack nodded, perking up slightly at his uncle's vague admittance. His lips pulled into a smile, "Well, she is over a lot."

Derek grinned, his head tilting to the side. "Really."

"Yeah," Jack took a bite of his cookie. "We have a lot of fun. She brings over pizza for movie night every Friday if she and Dad aren't working. Cheese for me. Pepperoni and sausage for her and Dad."

"They share, huh?"

"And then Dad spent a lot of time picking out her Christmas present. But they haven't kissed." Jack sighed frustratedly, an innocent confusion on his face. "That's what grown ups do when they love each other, right?"

"It is pretty standard," Derek affirmed, amused himself at the confirmation something was, in fact, going on. It's only been driving the team crazy for weeks.

He, as well as the others, have confronted you about it numerous times, knowing that if they went to Hotch instead, he would confess nothing. But you reacted similarly. A shrug and a "just friends" before switching to a different topic.

"I tried all night too." Jack's bottom lip protruded in a pout once more. "But nothing works."

"Well..." A smile formed on Derek's face. "Maybe you just need a little extra help."

-

"Rally up the troops." Penelope clapped at you, to which you snorted an airy laugh through your nose. "Don't just sit there. I have been shopping since Halloween and I've masterly selected each and every gift and I have been itching to see all your reactions. I almost gave you yours two weeks ago."

"Okay, okay," You surrendered, throwing your hands up. You knew better than to face Penelope's driven wrath.

"You better," Her expression was sharp, pointing a warning finger at you. She hurried away as another laugh escaped you, while you also opted to take one more drink.

As she left the room, Jack entered.

"Hey Jackers," Your face brightened at the sight of him, putting your drink aside. "I heard it's almost time for presents." You raised your eyebrows, a soft smile on your face. "You excited?"

Jack nodded, a glint in his eyes. It was rather mischievous, similar to the one he gave Aaron when he wanted to delay going to bed early, only much more so. "Can you help me with something first?"

"Of course I can," You agreed within a split second's notice. Jack grabbed your hand and led you away just as fast. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

He led you towards Dave's foyer. It was dimly lit, shoes scattered amongst the welcome mat. God forbid someone stained Dave's carpeting.

Aaron and Morgan were just coming back inside; Aaron looked a bit agitated, per usual, while Derek was sporting his famous, cheeky grin.

" - I don't know why you would say that." Aaron continued, tossing an annoyed look over his shoulder to Morgan. As his gaze returned forward, and made eye contact with you, the softness in his face returned instantly.

"Is everything okay?" You wondered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you and Jack came to a stop.

"Morgan said my car alarm was going off." Aaron shoved his keys back into his pocket, leaving Morgan's side and favoring yours. "And evidently lied."

"Lied?" A laugh escaped you, perplexedly looking at Morgan, seeking an explanation as well.

"My bad." He waved it off, giving Jack a wink. That was suspicious, but he switched topics before anything could be said. "Oh, would you look at that."

His hand raised, his index finger pointing upwards, directing right between you and Aaron. Both your gazes followed.

Mistletoe.

Oh.

Your eyes shot to Derek's, wide and surprised. In contrast, Aaron's face remained neutral, but a deep blush was growing on his cheeks, as well tinting his ears.

"Well, we'll leave you two to it." He left it at that, shrugging nonchalantly before gesturing Jack away.

"What... Jack?" You started, turning around. "I thought you needed..."

The two of them were gone before you could finish your sentence. However, you did view the tail end of Derek giving Jack a high five.

So, they had been in cahoots. You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head.

Now alone, your eyes connected with Aaron's, who was standing there rather anxiously. Naturally, there was a touch of tension in the air, but it wasn't awkward by any means. A mutual excitement, as well as relief. An electricity.

Aaron hadn't been anxious, but buzzing with anticipation.

You've been wanting to kiss him. He's been yearning to kiss you. The time had just never been right, nor had it the perfect moment. In addition, there was always the fear of rejection.

And suddenly you felt like an idiot for even contemplating such, because from the longing you noticed within his pupils, you've always been on the same page.

Aaron chucked, stating the obvious and peering back up at the mistletoe. "I think we were set up."

"You don't say." You quipped in response, a nervous laugh escaping you. Oh my god was repeatedly circling in your head. You shifted your weight from one foot to another. There was so much you wanted to say, having gone through the potential conversation in your mind more times than you could count. But now, as the opportunity finally presented itself - nothing.

Aaron on the other hand, simply decided to show you.

He wasted no time - his confidence was quite literally the hottest thing you could fathom. All in one smooth motion, his hand cupped your cheek and he placed his lips firmly onto yours.

A spark of energy rushed through you, the both of you in fact. Every nerve in your body was suddenly alive and heightened. Your fingers clutched onto the sides of his shirt, reciprocating the passion.

Aaron's kiss was gentle, his fingertips rough but incredibly soft where they rest against your skin. It made sense, it mirrored him perfectly. A hard exterior, but tender underneath.

And longing to be even closer, Aaron shoved you lightly against the wall, slotting a leg between your thighs. That way, he could lose himself more into you, and you could fully succumb to him.

Your head was fuzzy, feeling lightheaded in the best way possible as your heart fluttered in your chest. Now that Aaron had kissed you, you were done for. From now on, you refused to go each day without receiving another. You couldn't.

"We're missing presents." You teased once the two of you pulled away for air, cheeks flushed. And immediately missing his contact, your lips easily found their way back to his. You could feel his smile, a happy sigh leaving him.

"They can wait."

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

Ariana Grande said in an interview regarding the loathing era of Glinda and Elphaba's relationship that they are immediately fascinated with each other and part of what makes them initially have a negative reaction is that they both recognize in the other aspects of themselves, and parts they don't yet accept or feel comfortable with. Now, I will be the first to say: that sounds gay af. But in a serious analytical sense: that interpretation by Ariana is incredibly insightful because when you think about it, yeah — Elphaba wants the beauty and popularity that Galinda has (but feels wrong for it because she finds it shallow and dumb and thinks she's above that, so she just suppresses it in the hopes that the Right People will be able to look past her unpopularity and value her for her) and Galinda truly wants not only the intellectual recognition but the peculiar power to say NO to established reality that Elphaba has (but she is constantly being overlooked and prejudged as a shallow airhead, and despite receiving plenty of surface-level attention and affection feels like an outsider: like she's always wearing a mask, never fully connecting with anyone because her truest self is much too ✨🌈Unusually and Exceedingly Peculiar🌈✨ to ever let anybody else witness). They're both the first and only ones to see what the other wanted everyone to see in them, and in the process fall in love both with each other AND with those hidden centers of themselves.

They don't loathe each other — they loathe what the other makes them feel, which is twofold: the ✨🌈Sudden and New🌈✨ feelings, obviously; BUT ALSO some very deep-seated, old feelings that nobody else could (or would) ever confront.

tl;dr: it's the good ol' sapphic experience of "Do I Wanna Be Her or Bang Her?™" — except the "be her" would involve radical self-acceptance (hard pass), and neither of them have figured out that "bang her" is an option yet. Which is what makes their relationship so beautiful: they don't merely complete each other in the "they fit together like puzzle pieces" way — they complete each other in the "they helped each other to fall in love with the parts of themselves they'd spent their whole lives loathing" way. "Handprint on my heart" and all that. The best possible resolution to the "Do I Wanna Be Her or Bang Her?" conundrum: "We're Being Us Together AND We're Banging".

[lovebugism]

i’d love to see what you’d do for a holiday spent with rockstar!eddie 🙂‍↔️ maybe a quiet night in decorating or just smitten with each other’s company after time spent apart?? a suggestive ending maybe 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

ty for requesting :D — you and rockstar!eddie spend the holidays together after coming back from tour (rockstar!eddie universe, established relationship, allusions to smut 18+ | 1.2k)

You wake that morning to a heavy and familiar weight on top of you. 

Eddie Munson — rockstar, heartthrob, and world-famous dweeb — is sprawled along your back like your own personal blanket. You swear you can feel his heart beating softly against your shoulder blade while his mouth rests on your cheek, pink and softly parted to exhale little snores in your ear.

You let him for a while, until you think you feel drool on your jaw.

“Wha—?” Eddie slurs when you shift slightly to shove at him. He makes no move to get off of you, though.

“You know we aren’t in a bunk anymore, right?” you mumble into the pillow. “So you don’t have to sleep directly on top of me now.”

“Well, jokes on you, ‘cause I love being on top of you,” he quips, voice heavy with sleep.

You raise a feeble hand to swat at him. “You’re such a perv,” you grumble.

Eddie laughs quietly in your ear, then brushes his lips along your cheek in a chaste kiss. “Want breakfast?” he mumbles against your skin, soft and warm with a lingering slumber.

You nod lazily against the cushion. “Yeah. But I also wanna sleep for, like, five more hours…”

“How 'bout I do a bagel run, and after we fall asleep on the couch? Like old times?”

The mention of old times makes your chest feel all sparkly. Back when you swore you’d hate each other to the grave, but Eddie still had your breakfast order memorized, and you’d still have his favorite T.V. show on by the time he got back.

You’d doze off together, on opposite sides of the couch, but under the same blanket — like some kind of old married couple. Until Steve inevitably found you both there, and you’d go back to hating each other all over again.

“Deal,” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Eddie pats your ass twice and slides off of you.

You grieve his warmth the moment he’s gone.

An hour or more later, the two of you are sufficiently full with breakfast, passed out on opposite sides of the couch, with Scooby Doo re-runs playing quietly across the room.

That’s precisely how Steve finds you — his roommates turned world-famous rockstars — snoring with their mouths wide open, at one in the afternoon, after months of being away. 

With his arms full of groceries, he slams the door shut with his foot. The resounding thud startles both of you accordingly. You and Eddie lift your heavy heads like waking zombies, wincing as you stretch your aching backs.

“This is really humbling to see, by the way,” Steve quips as he hangs his keys by the door.

Eddie scowls. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Steve shrugs. “It’s just— while you guys were halfway across the country, people wouldn’t stop gushing about the two of you... But it’s a really nice reminder to know that you guys are still a bunch of slobs.”

“Asshole…” Eddie grumbles.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and sit further up. “What are those?” you ask, nodding to the paper bags he holds in both arms.

Steve’s lips jut softly out as he peers over the tops of his groceries. “Ornaments, garlands, tinsel… And some condoms, ‘cause we were running low.”

“Who’s we?” Eddie scoffs.

“Me and your mom—”

“I love you, Stevie,” you say. “But there’s no way in hell I’m decorating this place today.”

“Yeah, Harrington,” the wild-haired boy beside you squints. “We just got home. You’ll have to peel me off this couch if you want me to help.”

“Oh, please,” Steve scoffs.

“What?”

You flash him a knowing grin. “We all know you’re gonna watch Steve do it until he inevitably puts something in the wrong spot and pisses you off until you just to do it yourself. You do it every year, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his chocolate eyes. “I’m not that predictable, doll.”

—————

The apartment is fully decorated by nightfall, by Eddie’s own stubborn volition.

Steve helps you bake a batch of cookies, then promptly leaves after taking a phone call you weren’t allowed to spy in on. He shoves on his coat and mumbles something about an old bootycall that was back in town for the holidays.

You break into his good liquor accordingly, and spike your mugs of hot chocolate with his expensive whiskey.

“C’mere,” Eddie waves from his spot by the glowing Christmas tree.

You let out an immediate whine from the couch, made sluggish from the long day and the spiked cocoa. “What?” you call back in a dramatic mewl.

“You gotta put the star on, doll— You do it every year,” he mocks with a lopsided smile, slick with alcohol.

“But I’m comfortable!”

“Stop complainin’ and get your sweet ass up here.”

You comply, though not without a series of inaudible grumbles as your feet shuffle along the carpeted floor in subdued protest. Eddie guides you up the small step ladder with his palms splayed on your ass.

“What? I’m helping you!” he defends when you flash him a knowing look.

His hands jerk instinctively to your hips when you rise to the tips of your toes, leaning slightly over to hang the shining star upon the highest bough, as it were. You don’t seem to notice how the old wood wobbles slightly beneath you. Eddie does, though, and his chest stings with a fleeting panic as you smile widely down at him.

“It’s so pretty, Eds,” you marvel, only partially tipsy. “You did such a good job.”

“I know,” Eddie hums, all proud of himself, as his palms smooth back over the plush of your ass. “So pretty…” he echoes in a distracted murmur.

“Stop being a perv. I’m trying to compliment you.” You roll your eyes and descend the creaking ladder.

The tree looks best from far away, you think — a chaotic mess of lights and tinsel; of shiny new ornaments and old ones the three of you have collected since childhood. It’s nostalgic, homey, warm. All the feelings you’d nearly forgotten about after spending months on the road.

“Thank you for doing all the work, by the way,” you lilt sheepishly, resting your head on Eddie’s shoulder when he stands at your side. You inhale the sweet scent of his cologne until your chest glows with it.

“How’re you gonna make up for it, huh?” he quips, obviously playful, as he presses a chaste kiss to your hair.

“By cleaning up the mess you made.”

Eddie only then seems to notice the piles of boxes and ripped-open plastic littered along the floor. “Okay, well, what about after that?” he presses.

“Um… Getting in the shower, probably,” you continue with a feigned obliviousness. “‘Cause I smell like sweat and booze.”

A pleased sound rumbles in Eddie’s throat as he smiles down at you. “Mm… Can I join?”

You meet his grin with your brows raised in question. “Only if you’re gonna shave my legs for me,” you answer.

He’s grown strangely fond of doing it for you, which you noticed after months of sharing showers to save water on the road. Not only does it save you the grueling work, but it’s always sure to end with his mouth between your thighs. 

So it's a win-win, really. 

Eddie knows it, too, and he smiles wider than he realizes.

“Deal.”

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[deusfoundry]

18+ only mdni pls thank u!

also big BIIG thanks to ree @tbaluver for helping me w this ILY MWAAH!

zayne would never be opposed to letting you have your way with him.

one half-lidded gaze from you, one graze of your manicured nails at his clothed length, one drag of your wet tongue against the shell of his ear as you tell him how badly you want him inside you, and he's a goner. already, he's letting you drag him to the bedroom. sometimes neither of you even have the patience to go there, and zayne ends up pinning you against the wall just outside his office, his palms desperately clinging to the back of your thigh in a way that burns. sometimes he settles on having you bent over his desk, his chest pressed against your back, the same nails clawing at the heavy mahogany, papers hastily pushed to the side.

but this report is important. it's due first thing in the morning, and as much as he wants to be in bed with you, right now he has to finish this.

when you first approached him tonight with the pure and genuine intention of getting him to sleep early, he dismisses you apologetically. he places a hand on your cheek, swiping his thumb right below your eyes as if he's wiping your tears and tells you he's sorry. he'll be there soon, and you should go to sleep if you're feeling tired (which he knows you are, if the yawn you struggle to push down is anything to go by).

he watches your figure retreat from his office, shoulders hunched and footsteps unnervingly silent. the guilt starts to simmer within him, slowly, steadily eating at him until he's filled with thoughts of abandoning his work to put that smile he adores back on your face. he wills his focus back on the screen in front of him instead, dead set on making it up to you after his shift tomorrow. perhaps he can even afford to clock out a little earlier, just in time to pick up two boxes of the strawberry macarons you two love so much from a cafe at the other side of town right before they close.

except, you come back to his office a half hour later, and this time, zayne knows you're up to no good.

it's in the little things. you're sauntering towards him with a sway to your hips. the first two buttons of his shirt you're wearing is undone, one side of the collar pulled to the edge of your shoulder, exposing to him a dangerous amount of smooth skin. the cherry on top is the noticeable absence of the shorts you were wearing earlier.

zayne wonders if you'd forgo wearing your underwear as well.

"zayne..." it's there, too. in the way you say his name, drawled out and a little breathless. if he listens closely, he can hear the undertone of a whine.

he feels the all familiar strain in his pants.

zayne watches, a mix of amusement and intrigue, as you rub a palm up and down the length of his arm before nudging it away and sliding yourself onto his lap. you encase his neck between your arms, using it to anchor yourself closer until you're right on top of his increasingly aching cock.

you make no comment about the bulge in his pants poking your thighs, but he knows you're aware of the effect you have on him. a smug grin makes it way to your lips. just a flicker, a brief moment where you acknowledge what you're doing to him, and it's gone the next second.

"i'm not feeling too well, doctor. i think i need a check-up."

you begin feigning distress, making a show out of curling into yourself and leaning against his chest. the movement you make causes the fabric on your shoulder to slip off. slowly, like each added inch of skin baring itself to him is taunting him. it stops, resting right in the middle of your arm, low enough that he can see the better part of your left breast.

his face runs hot, but he decides to humor you. just for the few seconds he could afford to spare if he wanted to finish this report before midnight.

the back of zayne's hand finds your neck. he moves it around a little, shifting from one side to another as if he's checking for your temperature.

"there's nothing particularly off about your temperature." he hums, sliding you further down his lap, intent on pouring all his attention to his work. he'll just have to deal with his ... problem later.

zayne almost misses the way your face falls in disappointment once you realize what he's doing. there's that guilt again.

he plants a kiss on your temple, his lips lingering on the side of your head much longer than it should've had. he's hoping it's enough to convey his words unsaid.

"perhaps you're just missing a few hours of sleep. shall i accompany the patient back to her bedroom?"

you stay quiet, lips pursed in deep thought. the silence stretches on until zayne gathers it's time for him to speak.

only, you beat him to it, moving to straddle his thighs so quickly that zayne can only react by wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don't fall. you land right back over his cock with enough force that it pulls an involuntary groan out of his lips and a whimper from yours.

"i think-" you breathe in, a sharp inhale through your nose before you breathe out through your mouth. the searing heat of your breath on zayne's ear makes him shiver beneath you, low vibrations sending a jolt to your clit through the damp fabric of your panties.

"i think this requires a more..." you take his hand in yours, shakily drawing it closer to hover over your breast. "hands-on approach, doctor."

zayne's head is spinning. your cunt over his painfully hard cock. the odd warmth radiating from your chest, the faint shadow of your pert nipples through his shirt. this look you're giving him, eyes hazy and half-closed like you're already lost in the pleasure when you've barely gotten enough. it's too much.

it's all too much.

"dear-"

he's cut off by the drag of your hips, pressing down on him with enough pressure that his head is thrown back from the friction of the inner fabric of his pants rubbing against his length, but just shy of the speed you both need to chase your high.

zayne finally puts his foot down when your pace starts to get more frantic. he pries his hand off of yours, using the combined strength of his arm around your waist and his hand on your hips to steady you.

he hears a quiet whine slipping past your lips at the loss of pleasure.

"stop. t- that's enough." he means to add more conviction to his words, but he finds that his voice comes out as less polite pleading and more pathetic begging. "i'll make it up to you later, just- just let me finish this."

a mix of whimpers and whines fall off your lips. you try to move despite his restraints, rolling your hips with as much fervor as you can muster. and it works. zayne moans, his arms going limp over that momentary burst of pleasure. you take advantage of his weakened state to full on ride his clothed cock.

zayne begins to lose himself. the thought of his report sits there, idly in the back of his mind, but it's almost completely replaced by you. you, and the delicious roll of your hips into his, filling his vision with the sight of stars and the whole universe. you, and the blissed out look on your face as you use his body to chase your pleasure. you, your eyes shut in concentration, your messed up hair, your nails clawing at his shoulders.

you.

you.

you.

you've almost consumed him whole.

almost.

zayne regains his bearings just in time to stop you from going over the edge. your eyes are pried open, jaw slacking as his hand finds your waist once more. you're about to complain, beg him to allow you to keep going. but his fingers dig into your flesh. his grip, firm yet delicate, sends an odd blend of pain and pleasure through your senses.

"i said that's enough."

zayne says—no, commands with a certain finality in his voice that makes you think he wants to stop altogether. but you find his actions contradicting his words when he pushes his chair back, providing him enough space to turn you around with ease.

your mind is having trouble keeping up with him. you can make out the sound of his zipper being pulled, the rustling of his pants as he yanks it down just enough for his length to spring free, the light slapping of skin on skin when his cock makes brief contact with your back. but you only come face to face with what's happening when zayne hoists you up by the waist, dragging your panties to the side. your juices from earlier acts as a lubricant for him to sheathe his cock into you with little resistance.

you're so full so suddenly, gummy walls gripping him like a vice. the tip brushes against that spot inside you that zayne knows sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"zayne-!"

"shh, be quiet." he slides the chair back towards the desk, his arm unmoving around your waist. every slight twitch of his cock has you clenching down on him, but zayne makes no move to react. your only indication of how riled up he truly is are his hand latching on to your skin and the minute quiver of his voice, breath hot and shaky over your ear.

you're reminded of how it was him in this position a moment ago. how it was seemingly your victory.

"now, why don't you be a good girl and stay still."

something tells you you're in for a long night.

a/n: smut is surprisingly fun to write lmfao HKASHFD

dividers by @cafekitsune

[kisolvetica]

I think posts like this are unfair towards both parties involved because, no, the person who thinks you deserve better probably doesn't mean that you're not worthy getting better for but do you know how hard it can be to get better? I've been in this situation before so maybe it is a bias but of course the other person deserves a person who can be better for them. However, it's a process and not everyone has already found their way into healing because healing is hard and a lot of times you feel like you can't get better even if you try. "You deserve better" just means that they want you to have someone who doesn't have this healing journey with set backs etc. because all they want is for you to be happy.

Though as the other person, you don't have to understand it, of course. But your mindset being that it is an insult against you and not made in favour of you seems to be an incredibly negative self perception.

You're worth getting better for, but the other person also has the right to decide that in many moments they can be incredibly hard to love due to healing not being linear. And both of you should first and foremost heal for yourself.

Relationships are hard, relationships as a mentally ill person even more so and in itself this image can definitely put into place how some people feel but I fear it's a little accusatory. A relationship ending isn't always because you do not love each other — sometimes you love each other so much that you realise that currently you're going to hurt each other. Conversations, perhaps distance, all that can help. But not accusations, not to expect the worst of the other person.

Or maybe I'm naïve, god knows.

“You deserve better” is an interesting way of saying I’m not worth getting better for

[kekewrites]

tw. mention of creampie, size kink, wholesome(?), reader is unable to speak human language + limited vocabulary, mention of abuse, abandonment issues

Imagine being a puppy!hybrid who's been saved by your current owner months ago. He found you wandering the streets alone, cold and starving.

It was pouring hard and the wind was extra harsh that day. Oh, how pitiful it is to see a hungry little pup girl rummage through the dirty trash bins, hoping to see scraps and edible food. That sight of you tugged on his tender heart, unable to walk away from such scene, he approached with quiet footsteps, not wanting to scare your cautious figure.

Your sharp senses have been dulled by fatigue and hunger as you didn't even notice his presence behind. Normally, you would've bolted away, afraid of how humans have treated you, but the way his voice sounded to your alert furry ears made your guard down. It was different from the people who abused and abandoned you. So gentle, the way his voice sounded like a lullaby.

That was the last thing you remembered after your first meeting.

***

You really are the best pet or companion he could ever ask for. Such a baby to take care of truly. He found out how you were unable to speak human language, often babbling and butchering words if you do try to talk. You do understand simple phrases and tones, which made it easier to communicate with you. He's not that knowledgeable about hybrids but he do know how to take care of a regular dog. It's hard to compare you to a dog or a human, you're neither closer to the other.

He severely underestimate how much of an attachment you formed with him.

It's not a bad thing.

But it certainly becomes harder for him to leave you for work.

"Come on... Don't look at me like that."

He really didn't want to leave you alone. Truly, he wants to be with you 24/7 but he needs to work, or else he won't be able to spoil you.

Your small pout and cute begging eyes, along with your droopy ears nearly made him stay. Nearly.

"Baby... I need to go. Don’t make that face," he murmurs, his voice soft as he takes in your pouted lips and droopy ears, tugging at his heartstrings. He gently pulls you up, pressing a kiss to your cheek, trailing to your lips, and peppering your face with soft kisses.

Don’t worry, he always thinks of you while he’s typing away at his lonely desk, his mind wandering to what you’re doing without him by your side. Were you playing just fine? Eating the meals he prepped for you? Being a good girl for him? His heart aches at the thought of you waiting by the door, staring at it just as he left it.

He never anticipated how slow time would crawl as he counted the minutes to the end of his shift, refusing to let a single minute become overtime. The moment he could, he raced through the garage and drove home.

"I’m back!" he calls, dropping his case of files and loosening his tie.

Thump, thump, thump.

Oh, how he loved the sound of your footsteps racing across the floor to reach him. It was the kind of sound that melted away the stress of the day, the kind of sound that reminded him why he hurried home in the first place. But this time, he wasn’t prepared for the way you threw yourself at him, arms flung wide as you collided with his chest.

He stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but quickly steadied himself, wrapping his arms around you instinctively. Your warmth, the way you buried your face in his suit—it all made his heart swell.

"Whoa there!" he said, chuckling softly as he ruffled your hair. "I missed you too, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes bright with joy, and his exhaustion melted away completely. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as if he’d never let go. Moments like this made everything worth it, every long hour and every sleepless night. You were his home, his safe haven, and the best part of his day.

"W-Wel... um," you stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly as your little fangs peek out with each syllable. "Wellum... b-back!"

He freezes for a moment, blinking as he stares at you, his head tilting slightly in confusion. Then, it hits him like a soft breeze, the realization dawning across his face.

Were you trying to say welcome back?

His heart squeezes as the thought sinks in, and a wide grin tugs at his lips. Aren’t you just the cutest? He crouches down to your level, his hands gently resting on your shoulders.

"Wellum back, huh?" he teases softly, his voice warm and playful. "Thank you, sweetheart. I feel very welcome now."

You shift nervously, glancing away with a little huff, but your lips twitch as if you’re trying not to smile. He chuckles and taps the tip of your nose affectionately, unable to resist how endearing you look.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" he says, his tone dropping into something softer, almost a whisper, as he pulls you into a hug. "Hearing that from you just made my day, you know that?"

Coming home was the best part of his day, he might quit his work and become a full-time freelancer if it meant spending more time with you.

Then one day came something with you. Your behavior became odd, strange even...

It didn't take too long for him to realize that you were approaching your heat. He read about it while researching about hybrids, the heat suppressants pills already stock in his drawers. The only problem was how uncooperative you were, spitting out the pills, running away when it was time for bathing, and being skittish whenever he was out. You were still his sweet girl, but you'd get moody and have an outburst.

"Come on, it's not that bad... Come here, baby." His voice is soft, coaxing.

Bath time was his least favorite thing to do. Not because he didn’t enjoy the idea of it—cleanliness was important—but because it always turned into a battle of wills. He never liked having to wrestle with you, and yet here you were, backed into the corner of the room like a wary kitten—wait, like a dog your arms wrapped protectively around yourself.

His gaze softens as he takes in your cowering, guarded figure. The way you look at him, a mix of defiance and uncertainty, makes his resolve waver. But the small trail of dirt smeared across your cheek and the strands of hair sticking to your face remind him there's no way around this.

"Baby, you can't stay like that forever," he says, tilting his head with an amused grin. He takes a cautious step forward, his movements slow, deliberate. "I'll make it quick, I promise. No bubbles this time, okay?"

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, not buying into his negotiations just yet. Inching further into the corner.

He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "This time, no tricks, just a nice, warm soak. You'll feel so much better."

When you don't budge, his grin turns sly. "But if you're going to make me chase you…" He starts rolling up his sleeves, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. "Then don't blame me if I catch you."

Your eyes widen slightly, and he sees the tiniest twitch of a smile forming on your lips, your tail wagging despite your best efforts to hide it. In that split second, he lunges forward, scooping you up effortlessly despite your squeals of protest. "Gotcha!" he declares triumphantly, carrying you toward the tub, half-heartedly squirming in his arms.

His smile softening as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, stubborn little thing."

It was a nice warm bath, you placed on his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist for preventing your escape.

"See? Not that bad, hm?" He murmurs, almost groaning at how blissful he's feeling. The warm and comfortable water around him plus your nice, soft and plush figure on his lap made it ten times better than usual.

You were oddly quiet, your ears flopping. Your temperature higher than normal, he can see how you were breathing heavily.

Oh.

It's starting again hm?

Well, he's here to help... just not with the pill.

***

The scent of your arousal filled the air, sweet and intoxicating, making his own body react in kind. His cock twitched, already starting to harden.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" He asked softly, his voice rough with concern and desire. He tightened his arms around your waist, holding you close as you shifted restlessly on his lap. "You're burning up. Do you need me to cool you down?"

Your tail thumped against the side of the bathtub, betraying your excitement. His hands slid up your sides, tracing the curves of your body through the water. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"I can help you feel better. I know just what you need," He murmured, his voice low and seductive. His hands continued their exploration, cupping your breasts through the water. They were swollen and sensitive, the nipples hardening under his touch. His cock was fully hard now. Pressing his hips up against your ass, letting you feel his cock throb with need. He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he works you, bringing you closer to the edge.

"That's it, let me hear you," he rasps.

His tongue laves over your pulse point, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Marking you, claiming you. His fingers never stop their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you higher and higher until you're trembling on the brink, teetering on the edge of release.

"Come for me," he demands.

And you do, your back arching, a scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. He holds you through it, his fingers still working your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you're boneless and spent in his arms.

But he's not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

He read that hybrid's heat last long for a few weeks, worst case scenario, for months. It could affect your well-being so he won't take any chances for that to happen.

"Hold on tight, baby," He murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. With a smooth motion, he stood up in the bathtub, water sloshing around them as he carried you in his arms. Stepping out of the bathtub, water cascading down his muscular body as he made his way to the bedroom.

He'll do anything for his girl.

Anything.

[helen-with-an-a]

Heyy, i hope you're doing well! I wanted to ask if you would be down to write a fic based on the song "drown" by bring me the horizon. I absolutely love this song and it has a place in my heart because this band and also this song carried me through some dark times ( I cried so hard when i heard that song live for the first time 2 months ago xD) . Maybe it could be a barca x reader fic that also deals with $elf h@rm if that is a topic you're comfortable writing about, because reading books and fan fics about this topic has been helping me immensely with my own recovery. So if this is an idea that interests you I would love to read that fic, but if it's a topic you're just not comfortable with feel free to just ignore this ask. (But seriously listen to drown it's such a beautiful song)

Hiiiiii - I hope I did this request and song justice. Please know if you are struggling, you are loved. You are so, so loved and people want to help you. I know asking for help is really hard, but I promise it is worth it. You are worth it.

Drowning

Barça femeni x reader

Description: R feels like she is drowning and the team comes to help her

Word Count: 5.4k

TW: Undescribed Self Harm; Brief mentions of cutting; Bad mental health

Kelly Clarkson once sang that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, that it turns you into a fighter, and helps you stand a little taller. Those words are meant to inspire resilience, to remind you that adversity is supposed to build character and fortify your spirit. But as much as you wanted to believe that, as much as you tried to let those lyrics resonate in your heart, the truth is, you weren’t sure if they were true. You wished with every fibre of your being that they were, but deep down, you felt the weight of life’s challenges pressing down on you. Instead of feeling stronger, you often felt worn down, as if the struggles you faced had chipped away at your resolve rather than bolstered it.

You wanted to feel like a fighter, to stand taller in the face of hardship, but more often than not, you found yourself struggling just to stay on your feet. It was as if each obstacle left a scar that made it harder to move forward, rather than easier. The hope that you’d emerge stronger sometimes felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if that strength Kelly sang about was something you’d ever truly feel.

Half the time, it felt like you were floating – weightless, as if you were drifting through life without a solid anchor. There was a strange sensation of being unmoored, detached from the world around you, almost as if you were existing in a bubble that separated you from everything real and tangible. In those moments, you felt neither grounded nor fully present, as if the weight of your worries and responsibilities had somehow lifted, but so had your sense of purpose and direction. You were there, but not really there – drifting in a kind of limbo where everything seemed just out of reach.

The other half of the time, it felt like you were drowning – barely able to keep your head above the water as the weight of everything threatened to pull you under. The world seemed to close in around you, the pressures and responsibilities of life crashing over you like relentless waves. Each day felt like a struggle just to stay afloat, as if you were constantly treading water in an ocean of overwhelming emotions, fears, and uncertainties.

Your mind was a whirlpool, dragging you down into dark, turbulent depths where it was hard to breathe, hard to think, and hard to see any way out. Every little thing seemed like an anchor, dragging you further beneath the surface, making it harder and harder to find the strength to push back up. The sensation of drowning was terrifying – your heart raced, your breath quickened, and panic took hold as you fought desperately to survive the relentless tide.

In these moments, it felt like you were being suffocated by the weight of your own thoughts and emotions, as if they were water filling your lungs, making it impossible to take a full breath. You tried to fight against it, to keep yourself above the water, but the effort was exhausting, leaving you drained and gasping for air. The more you struggled, the deeper you seemed to sink, and the idea of finding solid ground again felt increasingly out of reach.

There was one thing that brought you a small measure of comfort, a fleeting moment of relief that made you feel a little better. It was like a lifeline thrown to you in the middle of the chaos. Just for that brief instant, your feet were on solid ground again, and you felt a sense of stability that had been missing for so long. In that split second, you weren’t drowning in the suffocating depths of your anxieties, nor were you floating aimlessly through the fog of disconnection.

Instead, you felt anchored, grounded in a reality that was steady and secure. It was as if the storm inside you had paused, and the world had stopped spinning just long enough for you to catch your breath. In that moment, you were fully present, aware of yourself and your surroundings in a way that made everything else fade into the background. The weight that usually pressed so heavily on your chest lifted, and for that brief period, you were able to stand tall and feel the earth beneath you, firm and unwavering.

It didn’t last long – those moments of clarity and peace never did. They slipped away as quickly as they came, like sand through your fingers, leaving you once again adrift in the chaos of your thoughts. The sense of calm and stability that you craved was always fleeting, a temporary reprieve that left you yearning for more. But in the aftermath, when the world once again became overwhelming and your mind descended back into the chaos there was one thing that lingered: the small, neat red lines.

These lines were the only reminder of that brief lucidity, etched into your skin like a secret code that only you could understand. They were delicate but precise, almost methodical in their appearance, as if each one was a calculated attempt to bring some order to the chaos within.

The red lines were your way of marking time, of grounding yourself in a reality that often felt too slippery to hold onto. In those moments when clarity slipped away, when you were once again floating or drowning, they were there to remind you that, for just a moment, you had found your footing. The pain they brought was real, sharp, and immediate – something that could cut through the numbness and confusion, anchoring you back to the present.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when life was simpler, when the world seemed brighter and full of possibilities. Your dad used to tell you stories of when you were just a baby, how you were the very picture of happiness –  all gummy smiles and infectious giggles that could light up a room. He would describe how your laughter was so pure, so full of joy, that it could make even the grumpiest person smile. In his eyes, you were a little bundle of sunshine, radiating warmth and love wherever you went.

You often wondered what happened to that little girl, the one who seemed to find joy so easily in everything around her. Where did she go? What changed between those carefree days and now, when the world feels so heavy and your heart so burdened? You tried to remember the last time you felt that kind of unrestrained happiness, but the memories were hazy, like trying to recall a dream that had long since faded.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things started to shift, when the lightness began to slip away, replaced by something much darker. Maybe it was a gradual process, so slow and subtle that you didn’t notice it happening until one day you woke up and realised that the little girl who used to laugh so easily was gone. Or maybe it was something more abrupt, a single event that changed everything, though you couldn’t quite remember what it might have been.

There were times when you’d catch a glimpse of her, that little girl, in the mirror – perhaps in a fleeting smile or a brief moment of joy – but she was always just out of reach, like a shadow that vanished as soon as you tried to hold onto it. The happiness that once came so naturally now felt like a distant memory, something that belonged to a different time, a different version of yourself.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a mourning for the person you used to be, for the life you used to live. What had happened to that carefree spirit, the one who saw the world as a place of wonder and possibility? Where did all those smiles and giggles go, replaced by the weight of anxiety and the burden of unspoken sadness?

You wished you could find your way back to her, to that little girl who knew how to be happy without even trying. But the path seemed unclear, the way forward uncertain, and all you were left with were the memories of who you used to be and the quiet hope that maybe, someday, you might rediscover that lost joy.

Ingrid had sensed that something was off the very first time she met you. It was as if she could see right through the façade you were trying so hard to maintain. You were just 17 at the time, still so young, yet there was something about the way you carried yourself that spoke of a weariness far beyond your years. Most teenagers were full of restless energy, eager to explore the world and discover who they were, but you – there was a heaviness in your eyes, a kind of fatigue that no child should ever have to bear.

When you stood before her, Ingrid could see that the weight of the world was already pressing down on your shoulders. It was in the way you held yourself, as if every movement took a conscious effort, every step a deliberate act to keep from being overwhelmed by the burden you carried. You tried to smile, to present yourself as just another teenager navigating the usual challenges of adolescence, but even your smile seemed strained, like it was something you had to force rather than something that came naturally.

Ingrid noticed how you seemed to shrink into yourself, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable, perhaps in the hope that the world might go easier on you if you took up less space. But it was impossible to ignore the sadness that lingered behind your eyes, a sadness that seemed to have settled there long before its time. It was as if you had lived through experiences that had aged you in ways that others your age couldn’t begin to understand.

There was an unspoken tension in the way you interacted with others, a hesitation that suggested you had learned to guard yourself carefully. Ingrid could tell that you were wary of letting anyone get too close, as if you were afraid that if someone saw too much, they might unravel the carefully constructed image you were trying so desperately to hold together. It was a kind of self-protection, a shield you had built to keep the world at arm’s length, but Ingrid could see through it.

She saw the exhaustion etched into your posture, the way your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if the weight you carried was too much to bear alone. And though you were still just a teenager, still supposed to be discovering the joys and freedoms of youth, there was an undeniable gravity about you, a maturity born out of hardship that no one your age should have had to endure.

She had gone straight to Mapí, her heart heavy with worry and a sense of urgency she couldn’t ignore. Mapí had always been her anchor, the one person she could turn to when everything else seemed to be spiralling out of control. There was a comfort in Mapí’s presence, a kind of steady reassurance that made the world feel a little less chaotic. And in that moment, when she felt like she was drowning in her own thoughts, there was no one else she could think of who could help her make sense of it all.

As she approached Mapí, she could see the girl was already watching her, those perceptive eyes filled with a quiet understanding. Mapí had always been like that – intuitive, almost as if she could sense when something was wrong without a single word being spoken. It was as if she could read the unspoken emotions, the things that others overlooked or dismissed, and she knew just how to respond without being told.

“I’m worried about her,” Ingrid said quietly to Mapí, her voice tinged with concern as she gestured with her head in your direction. There was a seriousness in her tone that caught Mapí’s attention immediately. Ingrid wasn’t one to express worry lightly; if she was concerned, it meant something was truly wrong.

“Who?” Mapí asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to follow Ingrid’s line of sight. She turned to see who Ingrid was referring to, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Den lille,” Ingrid replied softly. It was a name that fit you perfectly, even though you were no longer a small child. To Ingrid, you would always be den lille, the one who needed looking after, the one she couldn’t help but worry about.

Mapí’s gaze lingered on you, taking in the way you sat off to the side, your shoulders hunched slightly as if you were trying to make yourself invisible. She saw the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of your shorts, a nervous habit she had noticed before but never truly understood until now. There was something about your posture, the way you seemed so withdrawn, that tugged at her heart. You looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it didn’t sit right with Mapí.

“She’s been different lately,” Ingrid continued, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. “I’m scared, María.”

Mapí’s heart ached at Ingrid’s words. The concern in Ingrid’s voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual composed and confident demeanour she typically displayed. The way Ingrid had hesitated before speaking, the trembling edge to her voice, suggested that this was more than just a fleeting worry – it was a deep, gnawing fear that had taken root in her heart.

Mapí turned her full attention to you, her eyes softening. There was an undeniable shift in your demeanour that had been building over time, and it was clear now that Ingrid’s fears were not unfounded. The way you sat, so isolated and withdrawn, seemed like a cry for help that was too quiet to be heard. Mapí could feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on her, the realisation that something needed to be done before it was too late.

“Ale will know what to do,” Mapí said with false bravado, trying to mask the tremor in her voice behind a veneer of confidence. Her words were meant to reassure Ingrid, to offer a glimmer of hope amidst the growing uncertainty, but inside, she felt a pang of doubt.

Mapí had always relied on Alexia’s wisdom and experience, believing her to be someone who could handle even the most complex of situations with ease. She had a way of approaching problems with calm assurance and a strategic mindset that often brought clarity and solutions where there seemed to be none. Mapí hoped that, with Alexia’s involvement, they could find a way to help you navigate the turmoil you were experiencing.

She knew, however, that this situation was different. The weight of it felt heavier, more personal. Her usually steadfast confidence was being tested, and despite her efforts to maintain a brave front, she couldn’t completely suppress the anxiety that gnawed at her.

Ingrid glanced at Mapí, a mixture of hope and scepticism in her eyes. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice laced with both trust and apprehension.

“Absolutely,” Mapí replied, her tone firm despite the fluttering unease in her chest.

Alexia had noticed the changes in you too, though her observations were more subtle, filtered through a lens of quiet concern rather than overt worry. She had seen you through different stages of life, from the carefree moments of adolescence to the more introspective phases, but lately, something had shifted, and she couldn’t ignore the signs any longer.

It was in the way you interacted with others, or rather, how you had started to withdraw from those interactions. Alexia, who had always admired your vibrant energy and effortless charm, now saw you retreating into yourself. The once bright and engaging conversations seemed to dwindle, replaced by a more subdued presence that she struggled to reconcile with the person she once knew.

She noticed how you would often linger on the periphery of group activities, participating only half-heartedly, if at all. Your laughter, which used to come so easily, had become rare and forced, a stark contrast to the genuine joy that used to light up your face. Even your physical appearance had changed; where there was once a confident posture, there was now a noticeable slouch, a sign of the weight you seemed to be carrying.

Alexia also observed the small, telling habits that had shifted. The way you fidgeted with your clothes or avoided eye contact during conversations spoke volumes about your internal struggle. It was as if you were trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, a stark departure from the once lively and assertive person she had known.

“Ale, we need to talk,” Mapí said firmly, cornering Alexia in the changing rooms after training one afternoon. Her voice was low and serious, carrying an undertone of urgency that instantly drew Alexia’s full attention. The usual post-training chatter and the clamor of lockers being shut were fading into the background as the gravity of Mapí’s tone cut through the noise.

“Is everything okay?” Alexia asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern as she met Mapí’s gaze. The look in Mapí’s eyes was one Alexia hadn’t seen very often – an earnestness and resolve that spoke of something deeper than just a casual chat. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more confined as the weight of the conversation settled in.

“No, it’s not,” Ingrid replied, her tone steady but laden with emotion.

Three sets of eyes turned to look at you, the subject of their concern. You sat on a bench, somewhat apart from the group, absorbed in your own thoughts, unaware of the intensity of the discussion unfolding just a few feet away. The distance between you and the others was more than physical; it was as though a chasm had opened up, underscoring the emotional divide that had grown.

You looked so tired. It was a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion, a heaviness that seemed to seep into your very bones. The vibrant energy that once defined you had dimmed, leaving behind a shadow of your former self.

Your eyes, which used to sparkle with curiosity and joy, were now clouded with a fatigue that spoke volumes about the battles you were fighting internally. They were deep and dark, the kind of tiredness that comes from sleepless nights and unspoken worries. The once bright and animated expression you wore had given way to a distant gaze that struggled to focus on the world around you. When you did look up, it was with a slow, measured effort, as if the simple act of meeting someone’s eyes required more energy than you had to spare. Your gaze seemed to drift in and out of focus, mirroring the exhaustion that you felt but could not escape.

Your training top seemed far too big on you now, the fabric hanging off you like a draped shroud. It was as if the clothes themselves reflected the way you had withdrawn from the world; they looked oversized and loose, emphasising the contrast between your current state and the vibrant person you used to be.

Every small movement you made seemed laboured, as though even the simplest actions required a tremendous amount of effort. Your shoulders slouched slightly, as if weighed down by an invisible burden that made every step feel heavier. The casual confidence that once characterised your movements had been replaced by a tentative, almost cautious mannerism, as though you were trying to conserve every ounce of energy you had.

Your breathing was steady but shallow, and every now and then, you let out a sigh that seemed to escape from somewhere deep inside you – a sigh that spoke of exhaustion and resignation. The small, subtle gestures you made, like tucking your hands into your sleeves or curling your legs up on the bench, were instinctive attempts to find some semblance of comfort or protection in a moment where you felt particularly vulnerable.

“Oh, cariño,” Alexia whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of you. The term of endearment slipped from her lips like a soft breath of sorrow, laden with a depth of feeling that words alone could not fully convey. It was a tender utterance meant to bridge the emotional chasm that seemed to separate you from everyone around you.

As Alexia watched you, her eyes were filled with a deep sadness that mirrored the gravity of the moment. The sight of you, sitting apart from the group, lost in your own thoughts, was more than Alexia could bear. Her heart ached as she took in the full extent of your weariness. It was clear that this was not just a fleeting moment of fatigue but a profound, ongoing struggle that had seeped into your very being. The vibrant spirit she once knew seemed overshadowed by a deep, unspoken sorrow that had taken hold.

You weren’t sure why you phoned Ona, out of all people. It wasn’t like you were particularly close with her; in fact, your interactions with her had always been somewhat limited and casual. You knew her mostly through mutual friends and shared activities, exchanging pleasantries and brief conversations but never delving deeply into each other's lives. Yes, you considered her a friend, but your one-on-one time had been minimal, mostly restricted to group settings or casual encounters. She wasn’t someone you confided in regularly, nor did you have a history of sharing personal struggles or intimate details.

Yet, in the midst of your crisis, when everything felt out of control and the world seemed to have narrowed to the confines of your bathroom floor, Ona’s name was the first to come to mind. You sat there, the cold tiles pressing against your legs, a razor gripped tightly in one hand, its cold edge a stark reminder of the darkness you were grappling with. Your thoughts were a swirling mix of desperation and confusion, and in that chaotic mental fog, Ona’s name emerged almost instinctively.

It was an odd choice, and you struggled to understand it yourself. Perhaps it was the nature of your relationship with her – though not deeply personal, it was still a connection that felt solid enough to offer some semblance of support. Sometimes, the familiarity of a person, even if not deeply entrenched, can provide a sense of comfort in moments of profound vulnerability. Ona had always been approachable and kind, traits that, despite the limited interaction, might have seemed reassuring in your current state.

There was also something to be said for the randomness of human emotion and instinct. In moments of deep distress, the mind often grasps at whatever feels familiar, even if it’s not the most logical choice. Ona, being someone who had always been friendly and supportive, perhaps embodied a sense of stability and kindness that was desperately needed in that moment.

“Hola?” Her voice came through the phone, laden with sleep, thick with the grogginess of having been abruptly roused from slumber. There was a softness to her tone, a slow, drowsy lilt that spoke of the deep relaxation she had been in just moments before. The initial, half-hearted curiosity in her voice quickly sharpened into something more alert as she processed the unusual hour and the unexpected call.

“I …” You began, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the overwhelming emotions that had gripped you. Your voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, laden with a mixture of vulnerability and desperation. It was as if the sheer effort of making the call had drained you, leaving only a fragile thread of sound that barely carried your intent.

“Pequeña?” Ona’s voice was suddenly more awake, filled with concern. The fragility in your voice, so unlike the casual exchanges you had shared before, pierced through her initial drowsiness. The realisation that something was seriously wrong caused her to sit upright in bed, the sense of alarm and urgency pushing away the remnants of sleep.

“Help me,” you managed to utter, the words escaping in a pained whisper

You woke up in hospital. The room cold and sterile. The first thing you noticed was the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones, despite the layers of blankets draped over you. The air felt thin and clinical – you had never known such an impersonal space existed. The walls were a clinical shade of white, interrupted only by the occasional piece of medical equipment or the sparse, functional décor meant to provide minimal distraction. The lighting was bright and unyielding, casting a harsh glare that made the room feel even colder and more impersonal. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, their steady hum creating a rhythm that seemed oddly out of place.

Your bed, positioned at the centre of the room, was surrounded by a fortress of medical paraphernalia. An IV drip hung beside you, its clear fluids slowly trickling down a tube that was taped to your arm. The beeping of a heart monitor provided a steady, monotonous cadence, a reminder of the life support systems that were now a part of your immediate environment. The rhythmic sound was oddly comforting and unnerving all at once, a constant reminder of your current state and the care being provided.

The air was filled with a faint, antiseptic scent – a mix of cleaning agents and medicinal odours that seemed to hang in the atmosphere like an unwelcome guest. It was a smell that clung to everything, from the freshly laundered hospital sheets to the disposable gowns and sterile gloves that the medical staff wore.

There was a warm weight in your right hand. It took you a moment to realise what it was. A hand. A hand connected to an arm, that led to a shoulder, that was attached to a whole person. The fingers resting gently in your grasp were familiar and comforting, their gentle pressure offering a steady reassurance. You turned your head slightly, and through the haze of your groggy state, you saw the face of the person whose hand you were holding.

“Hi,” Ona smiled softly, her expression a blend of warmth and reassurance.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a weak echo of her greeting, laden with the exhaustion and vulnerability you felt. Your gaze drifted to the hand still resting in yours. She followed your stare, squeezing gently when she realised what you were looking at.

 “The others have got to get food,” Ona continued, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s just us, if you want to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” you countered, the words a defense mechanism. If you denied it, it would all go away.

“Do not play dumb, pequeña.” Ona’s voice carried a note of gentle reproach. Her tone was soft but resolute.

“I …” you began, but the words seemed to falter before they could take shape. The enormity of your emotions was difficult to articulate, and the effort to speak felt almost insurmountable. You struggled to find the right words, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

But how could she truly understand? What little you knew about her life seemed almost painfully perfect by comparison. From the outside, Ona’s existence appeared to be a seamless tapestry of success and happiness. Her football career was thriving, each game a testament to her skill and dedication. She was admired and celebrated by teammates and fans alike, her talent on the field a source of pride and achievement.

Her relationship was also the stuff of dreams. Ona had Lucy, someone who seemed to bring out the best in her, their interactions marked by genuine affection and mutual support. They were often seen together, sharing moments of joy and laughter that spoke of a deep and abiding connection. Their bond was one of those rare partnerships that seemed to transcend the everyday challenges, offering a glimpse into a love that was both passionate and enduring.

Her circle of friends appeared to be equally ideal. They were supportive and loyal, always there for one another through thick and thin. The camaraderie and warmth of their friendship were evident in the way they interacted, their shared moments of happiness and mutual encouragement. It was a friendship that seemed to offer a solid foundation, a network of support that was both comforting and reliable.

And then there was her family – an image of stability and happiness. They were often seen together, their interactions filled with laughter and love. The family dynamic seemed to be one of mutual respect and genuine affection, a supportive backdrop to Ona’s life that added to the picture of her seemingly perfect existence.

In contrast, your own life felt chaotic and fraught with difficulties. The weight of your struggles seemed all the more daunting when juxtaposed against Ona’s polished image. It was easy to feel that her understanding of your pain was limited, that the perfection you saw in her life might somehow preclude her from fully grasping the depth of your own challenges. You wondered if her empathy was genuine or if it was simply a reflection of her innate kindness, an attempt to reach across the chasm of your differences and offer comfort despite the apparent disparity between your lives.

“If you don’t want to talk yet, that’s fine. But let me show you something.” She pushed up her sleeve.

C O N T ; N U E

“You’re not alone in this, pequeña. No one is ever alone.” Ona’s voice was steady, a soft but firm anchor amidst the storm. She shifted slightly, her fingers gently tracing over a tattoo on her arm. “I got this just after I moved to England,” she began, her tone becoming more reflective. “I felt so alone. I didn’t speak the language very well, I had no friends, and we were in lockdown. Everything was different.” Her gaze softened as she looked at the tattoo, her fingers moving lightly over its surface, as if the act itself was a form of remembering and honouring a past struggle.

The room seemed to grow quieter, the beeping of the monitors and the distant murmur of the hospital blending into a background hum as Ona continued. “I almost did it, y’know. I was really, really close – had the bottle and everything.” Her voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in the veneer of her composed exterior. “I haven’t even told Lucy this.” She laughed humourlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ona took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours as she smiled gently. “Alessia knocked on my door. She noticed I looked a little down and came to check on me. I don’t know if she saw the pills or not, but she stayed with me all day.” The warmth in her eyes deepened as she spoke. “She asked me to teach her some Spanish, she taught me how to make pasta from scratch. She didn’t let me leave her side for three days. Even then, as soon as she left Tooney appeared.”

“Wh-why are you telling me this?” Your voice quivered, the words struggling to get out over the lump in your throat.

Ona’s eyes softened with a blend of compassion and determination. “So that you know you’re not alone,” she began, her voice steady and full of quiet resolve. “I don’t know the ins and outs of what you’re going through, but just know that I’m here, we all are. We aren’t going anywhere.” She promised.

She paused, allowing her words to settle, as if to let the depth of her meaning fully resonate. You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. Tears began to well up in your eyes. The tears were a mixture of relief and sadness.

“You are loved, pequeña. So, so loved. And we will be here for you, no matter what, no matter how long it takes.”

[thef1diary]

hiiii absolutely melting over ghost!max like i didn’t expect it to get me going but whew!🤭🤭 thinking about how he wakes you up by eating you out… what if one day he decides to do the opposite?(if that could even work) like imagine you fall asleep with your mouth slightly open and he takes his opportunity and you wake up all confused and gagging on his dick at his now ruthless pace 👀👀

— hi nonnie! I love this concept, very creative. it’s making me feel things 🐱🦋🐱🦋 18+ content below

The cold hit your lips first, a sharp chill pulling you from the haze of sleep. You stirred, eyes fluttering open, only to realize your mouth was already stretched wide, filled with the weight of Max’s cock. Panic and confusion warred in your chest, but neither could overpower the relentless pace he set as he fucked into your mouth.

You gagged, throat tightening around the cool weight, but Max didn’t let up. His presence pressed against you—his invisible hands holding your head steady as he pushed deeper. Your jaw burned, spit dripping from the corners of your lips, the obscene sounds coming from your mouth as his cock slid in and out only amplifying your humiliation.

Your thighs clenched, heat pooling low in your belly despite the sudden intrusion. Every slick glide, every muffled gag, every strained breath had you pulsing with arousal, your body betraying you completely. Desperation took over as your hand slid between your legs, fingers trembling as they found the wetness pooling there.

The first touch to your cunt had you gasping around him, the vibration causing Max to stutter for a moment before quickening his pace. His cock dragged against the back of your throat ruthlessly as you circled your clit, the pressure building unbearably fast.

Your other hand clawed at the sheets, hips rocking against your fingers as Max took what he wanted from your mouth. The cool weight of him burned in contrast to the heat spreading through you, your arousal reaching a fever pitch with each thrust.

And then he stilled, buried deep, his cock twitching against your tongue. You felt it—a phantom sensation, warm and overwhelming, as if he were filling your mouth despite nothing physical being there. The taste hit you faintly, salty and sharp, lingering on your tongue and sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed instinctively, even though nothing tangible was there, your body wracked with tremors as you came undone beneath him, fingers slick with your release. Your chest heaved as he pulled back, leaving your lips swollen and tingling, the faint taste of him still ghosting your senses.

Your body trembled, heat still coiled low in your belly, aching for a release you hadn’t fully found despite his ruthless wake-up call. Your thighs shifted restlessly, slick with the evidence of how much you’d needed him, how much you still did.

Max’s presence hovered close, teasing, daring you to admit what you already knew—you loved being used like this. Loved the way he claimed you without restraint, pushing you to the edge of your sanity and leaving you desperate for more.

You couldn’t fight it, couldn’t pretend to resist the raw need clawing at your insides. A shaky breath escaped your lips, your voice barely above a whisper but thick with arousal as it cut through the darkness of the room.

“More.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[mattybsgroupie]

milf | chris sturniolo

contents: handjob (m receiving); p in v; mommy kink; corruption kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

♡⊹𑄽୧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: i was so, so excited for this one. and i'm so happy for all the support on my silly ideas. this is the whole story of this blurb but it's just a taste, because i want to do a series about them. i wanna write about the first time they ever saw each other, how did chris confess to her, the time she came back to her husband, everything. there's so much to explore about these two and i hope you guys enjoy this just as much as i did. i love yall so much ♡ btw this is so long and not proofread please don’t hate me

♡⊹𑄽୧

it was a silent, cold afternoon at home. your daughter was away, traveling with her father — your ex-husband — and you were enjoying some much needed alone time. the sun was setting and the wind blew through the windows as you adjusted yourself on the couch and took a sip of the coffee you were holding in your left hand.

you heard three knocks from the back door, letting out a deep sigh from the back of your throat. you got up to stretch your tired bones and walked in slow steps towards the kitchen, opening the door. it was chris.

christopher sturniolo, one of your daughter’s best friends. he was energetic, funny, educated and extremely attractive for his age. the type of guy you’d want for your daughter — the gentle, sweet kid, who was surprisingly smart and was definitely going to be a great husband.

however at this moment, chris looked tired. his eyebags were darker and his usual easy smile wasn’t here. he seemed… exhausted.

“hi, dear” you said in your gentle, yet sensual tone, which always caught chris off guard. there was something about your voice that soothe him at the same time it got him worked up, the conflicting feelings taking over his chest.

“uhm, hey” chris said, scratching the back of his head. you noticed how his fingers tangled on his own hair — chris was tense. the other hand was hidden inside his pocket, his bruised lips looking even prettier under the sunset.

you smiled gently, thinking your daughter could’ve forgotten to tell him she’d be absent “she’s not here today, honey”.

“i know” chris answered abruptly, his gaze floating from your chest to his own shoes. “c-can i come in?”. with a simple nod, you entered the house, waiting for chris to join. he closed the back door and made his way to the kitchen, quietly following you around.

“i haven’t cooked since it’s just me” you said, noticing how his blue eyes scanned the empty table.

“oh” chris hadn’t realized you paid just as much attention to him as he did to you. “y-you don’t have to” he said. you raised an eyebrow and placed both of your hands on your hips, a classic mom pose. “i just like your food, that’s all” he looked away as you chuckled.

“aw, baby!” you cooed, genuinely happy with his confession as you opened your arms, offering him a warm, tender hug. “fuck, don’t call me that” chris mumbled under his breath as you approached him. you clicked your tongue in disapproval, silently calling him out. you were the older one and he needed to show some respect.

that’s when you noticed it. chris had failed to cover his pathetic boner, standing there, hard, in front of you.

you dragged your feet towards chris in slow, rhythmic steps, the sound of your heels clacking against the floor taking over the empty house. with a grin, you placed your hand on his tummy, chuckling at the contrast of your red nails and his baby blue hoodie. 

“chris, what’s this?” you say as if you’re surprised, gradually lowering your hand to his pants, gently palming his hardened cock. “you’re a naughty, naught boy” chris whined, throwing his head back as he finally felt your hand around him. 

this had happened a few times — a couple more than it should. chris was just so, so needy. your maternal instinct could always tell when he needed a hug or some encouragement, and you always gave it to him. until the hugs got tighter and the words turned to whispers, the handshakes turned to interlocking fingers and the quick gazes became lingering stares. one day, you don’t exactly recall how, chris ended up sitting on your lap, which led to your first kiss and chris inevitably cumming untouched inside his jeans.

“i just— ‘m s-sorry” he gasped when you finally got a proper grip of his cock, stroking him over his sweaters. 

“i don’t think you are” you teased, pulling his waistband and wrapping your knuckles around chris’s dick, which was covered in pre-cum. his cock twitched inside your fist when you placed a kiss on his neck, as if it was the first time he had ever been touched. “hm? what is it baby?”

“mommy” he breathed out without even thinking. his eyes were closed and his forehead was glued to your shoulder, his pathetic moans filling slipping from his bruised lips. “‘m gonna cum!”

“is that why you came here, chris? you wanted mommy to take care of you?” you cooed, biting his bare skin. with one last stroke and a shaky breath, chris came all over your fingers. the thick, sticky liquid covered your hand and dripped down his legs, staining his grey sweatpants. you brought your hand to your lips, licking all of his release.

you chuckled at him and chris quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to get closer to you. chris hid his face on the crook of your neck, sniffing your scent. “i missed you” he mumbled. “missed you s’much”

your hands went to the back of chris’s head, gently caressing his brown locks. “did you, sweetheart?” you cooed, squeezing his shoulder, silently asking for him to look at you. you touched his chin and chris tilted his head, closing his eyes for the kiss he so long waited for. you pressed your lips together in a tender seal, smiling into the kiss.

“let’s get you clean up, shall we?” you said, noticing the cum stain on his pants. “i’ll wash this one for you” 

you said and he agreed, undressing right away. you smiled at his politeness and couldn't help but glance at him as he removed his sweatshirt, exposing his abdomen — chris noticed you staring at him and attempted to tease you “like what you see, mama?”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for his clothes. his half-pumped cock remained coated in cum leaking down his thigh, ending just before his knee. “go take a shower” you suggested — demanded, actually — tossing everything he had on into the washing machine “are you gonna sleep here, sweetheart?”

“i-i… can i?” chris hesitantly asked. “well, there's no one else around” you checked the living room, reassuring chris that neither your daughter nor your ex-husband would be back any time soon.

chris rushed upstairs and took a shower as you finished his laundry. you took that chance to take off your soaked panties, making yourself bare beneath your nightgown before heading to your bedroom.

stepping out of the shower, chris wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fogged-up mirror with his palm. his reflection stared back at himself, blue orbs with a mix of excitement and apprehension for sleeping with you for the first time. chris knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. you were just perfect. too perfect.

he opened the door and slowly dragged his feet across the hallway, the soft sound of your movements in the bedroom guiding his steps. through the door gap, chris caught a glimpse of you seated at the edge of the bed, your fingers tracing patterns on the mattress.

“done already?” you asked, voice low and tender. chris nodded as he sat by your side and leaned his back down the bed, holding his weight with both elbows.

for a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your emotions hanging in the air. in a sudden rush of courage, you got closer to him, brushing your lips against his, taking it nice and slow.

chris immediately melted under your touch. his large hand went to the back of your head, softly pulling your hair as you moved to his lap, your curvy thighs practically hugging him.

he gasped with the sudden move, even though he had touched you and you had touched him — you never went all the way. chris was a virgin after all, and you had lost your innocence decades ago. you chuckled at him “it's okay, prince” you whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek. “we don't have to do anything you don't want to”

and that's why he loved you. you were so understanding, so compreensive and gave him the reassurance he needed “no! i w-want it!” chris said, a bit of desperation on his tone, the fear of losing you somehow taking over his already fuzzy mind.

“‘m jus scared i'm not... not gonna be good” he admitted, gaze flickering between your chest — right in front of him — and the ceiling. “g-gonna mess up” he mumbled, nuzzling his face against your breasts.

“that's totally okay” you smiled gently, ruffling his hair before playfully biting his neck, pulling his skin with ur teeth. “and besides, you already know how to make me feel good” you purred like a kitten on his ear, your long, red nails scratching a line down his torso.

“you're such a tease, mama” chris whispered back, placing his palms on your ass, pulling the silk nightgown upwards and revealing your bare flesh, making you moan as he groped your lower body.

with a light push, chris had fallen against the mattress. you crawled back to your previous spot, resting your back against the countless pillows that adorned the bed. chris quickly made his way to you — he was used to sitting on your lap — but you were smarter and, obviously, more experienced.

you stopped him by placing both palms against his chest. receiving a pout in response, your skilled fingers moved to the towel loosely wrapped around his hips, finally pulling the cloth and revealing his hardened cock.

you took a moment to admire the scene in front of you: chris, freshly showered, his hair dripping small droplets of water down his shoulders, his lips slightly parted, a string of saliva connecting both parts, his chest quickly rising and falling and his dick unashamedly leaking.

you had been wet from the moment he showed at your door. by now, your pussy was pratically begging for chris. you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and sealing your lips on a desperate kiss. chris audibly gasped when he pressed his cock onto your pussy, the new feeling taking over him. he started to drag his swollen lenght against your open cunt, not really sure of what he was doing, but it felt so good.

“whenever you're ready, prince” you breathed out as you enjoyed the feeling of having your folds explored after so long. chris savored that for a bit longer before positioning himself and moving his hips forward.

nothing.

he tried again. it was his first time and it was okay to make mistakes — that's what you told him. chris snorted, a frustrated sigh coming from him. one last try.

nothing, again.

you tried so hard to keep your composure. poor little thing, chris had no idea of what was going on. “w-why is it so hard?” he complained, more to himself than to you. his failed attempts were making him restless and sweaty, “mama” chris called, displaying puppy eyes and the biggest pout. “i c-can't get in...”

he was gonna cry. he was so vulnerable and upset at the same time. you ran your fingers through his hair “hey, hey, look at me” you shushed him, cupping his cheeks. “didn't i tell this could happen, baby? there's no reason to embarassed”

“c'mere” you called, patting the spot next to you on the mattress. “what if mama goes on top, huh? wanna try it that way?” you asked chris with your usual gentle, warm tone. he nodded eagerly, tears beggining to form in the corners of his eyes.

you changed positions, chris had his back resting against the headboard as you sat on his lap. “can you be a big boy and do a big favor for mommy?” he nodded once again, gripping at your hips with both hands. “stay still, alright baby? gonna sit down on you” you warned as you placed your folds against his flushed tip, gradually lowering yourself on his shaft.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” chris cried at the overwhelming sensation. “mama! s-shit!”

a soft sigh escaped your lips as you surrendered to the moment, relaxing with chris underneath you. “nhng, so big” you whined, adjusting yourself on his cock. you were used to that feeling, being filled up by a huge cock and having men at your feet. but this time was different. it felt so raw, so genuine, so real with chris.

chris threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. his moans got louder as you fastened your pace, soon bouncing on his dick. he was making no effort at all, being a pillow prince and simply letting you do whatever you wanted.

more than having his veins pumping inside you, the thought of being his first woman, of taking away his last bit of innocence, of completely corrupting him helped you get closer to the edge.

“mommy, i can't hold it! 'm gonna cum!” chris whined, panting heavily. “cum with me, my good boy” you gave him permission, but the praise was all he needed. chris trembled and jerked his body forward, the instensity of his orgasm being almost too much for him to handle.

his whimpers and uncoordinated movements ts along with the spurts of warm cum filling your insides made you reach your own climax, your juices mixed with chris's release oozing from your pussy and coating his cock.

“gonna pull out, okay?” you told him, preparing to remove yourself from his dick. “no!” chris prosteted. you furrowed your eyebrows, more curious than mad. “c-can i... can i stay inside? please? it took me so long to get in”, he confessed and you couldn't hold back anymore, a giggle escaping from your lips.

you might have taken his virginity, but deep down, chris would always be your little boy.

♡⊹𑄽୧

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon at 17, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were barely seventeen when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, enchant you. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

The twenty-first year of your life was dangerously close. You graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child��"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother. 

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since I was seventeen, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you turned twenty-one—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather have me taking you as wife and putting a baby into you the moment you turned eighteen, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I know, Dad. It's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

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.

.

.

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𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

[ariessunsakura]

Disclaimer: I started writing my response to this in 2017 and found it in my drafts. I know the whole post is quite old at this point and I'm truly not interested in arguing with anyone or continuing any discussion here, but I decided I didn't want some of what I wrote back then to go to waste.

Back when I started writing my response to this, I was 21 and angry at the large swaths of the fandom insulting the intelligence of Sakura fans like myself. I still love Sakura and SS, but I don't have an issue now saying that men like Kishimoto writing dynamics like Sasuke and Sakura's is something that should be...looked into, let's put it that way haha. That being said, what I still find disheartening is seeing Sakura, very much torn down by misogynistic fans in a large, primarily male fanbase, also torn down or criticized for supposedly feminist reasons by people who are often just determined to dislike her for whatever reason or somehow clearly miss important details. Sakura was reckless and made mistakes and did questionable things, as did many other characters who for some reason draw less ire. Lots of double standards.

Just to reiterate something that's already been said many times, Naruto proves that pop culture aimed at boys should have carefully written main female characters. There is the blatant misogyny that's happened in this fandom that anyone can see. Meanwhile, certain specific fans in the Naruto fandom that I may or may not need to specify (lol) have acted like the gatekeepers of social justice discourse in the fandom when really they've often just been hypocritical and selective about the type of issues they apparently care about when it comes to how they manifest in pop culture, or at least in this bananas series. They've often been bystanders or apologists or worse to that blatant misogyny. In light of everything that's been going on in the world, I sincerely think we should be more careful about how we talk about female characters. So when people write supposedly feminist posts but say that Sakura is just the "female main character with her legs always wide open and ready with basically no standards or expectations" despite everything the story has shown us, I kinda hate it and don't think that's good or feminist at all. Back in 2017, I wrote: I'm sick of condescending takes about Sakura and her fans as though there's little about Sakura’s character or the end of her story that could or should possibly resonate positively with girls.

Again, I know the original post is old. I know that Kishimoto's writing deserves to be criticized and that Sakura made mistakes and should've been written more carefully and responsibly, but I still want to say my piece.

It's true that Sakura is insecure early on, but her feelings for Sasuke really have nothing to do with that. She doesn’t know that Sasuke is popular when she starts to like him, so her feelings have nothing to do with wanting validation.

She knows her worth as a ninja and among her loved ones by part 2. A lot of guys are interested in her, including ones she admires and cherishes (Naruto and Lee). She confronts Sasuke fiercely many times, even as a genin. She basically spent part 2 trying to save or fight or stop him, going so far as thinking she should kill him to protect the village. That's hardly looking for his validation.

And that's not even mentioning what we're shown rather than told about her feelings for him, which is a theme for them. It's often the nonverbal way they act with each other more than what they say.

Karin with her chakra sensing can tell Sakura's grief is genuine and that she must've known Sasuke well.

“There is nothing different or special about Sakura’s love.”

Kishimoto gives us Karin, whose love for Sasuke is written as different from Sakura’s. Karin enables some of Sasuke's destructive choices and ultimately gives up on him, while Sakura ultimately doesn't do either of those things. And we can hypothesize all we want about Ino or some other girl being no different from Sakura, but who's to say they'd have had the same chemistry with Sasuke personality-wise or otherwise, or mutual understanding? We see from inner Sakura and in other instances that she has parallel elements of Naruto's personality, so...yeah, enough said lol. And who's to say another girl would've known exactly when Sasuke would leave the village, unlike Naruto? I think these speak for themselves:

One of the themes of SS, asserted in Kakashi's 693 quote, is that it’s about Sasuke accepting love without an overt reason so he can heal. Love in real life isn't always rational, it's about passion and attraction and things that are unspoken and can't always be put into words, which I think is what Kishimoto wants to convey with SS. The emotion for Sakura in Sasuke's eyes is concealed from us each time he thanks her for a reason. Sasuke tries to make a show of not caring about any of Team 7 or having a reason to love Sakura, but is still clearly drawn to her despite himself.

He's proud of her in the middle of all of the chaos and strife. He can't help but react to her.

I think Kishimoto makes contradictions more than once in the series, maybe including with SS. Clearly he's made a point to write things that make Sakura special and unique in some way to Sasuke, but there's also the message that Sasuke should allow love in without rationalizing it.

Another theme for them and for other women in the story is stated by Shikamaru's father: Even the roughest woman is tender to the guy she loves.

"Sasuke has not singled her out. She doesn’t appeal to him or interest him. She doesn’t challenge him in any emotional, mental, or physical way."

I think all of the above indicates otherwise. She does challenge him and changes his behavior, least of all when he has his first taste of intoxicating power.

He says himself that he has to remove himself from her and Naruto's vicinity to accomplish his goals. I think the intensity of the genjutsu he puts her in mirrors the intensity of some of his fights with Naruto as statements of him forcing away his bonds.

Still, Kishimoto makes a point to include this theme that can also apply to Sasuke:

"...she doesn’t know him, she’s doesn’t understand him, she doesn’t even have a basic grasp on the concepts that are necessary for those things."

Not true. She works tirelessly to understand and learn everything she can, and it's just not her fault that she doesn't always know everything. It honestly doesn't matter that she doesn't.

Sakura gets a lot of heat for what she says when Sasuke leaves the village, but shows she clearly understands his pain later on when trying to reason with Sai:

Never mind that Sasuke isn't even angry at her for what she said when he left.

“Sakura was just afforded the opportunity of being the closest girl around and female main character with her legs always wide open and ready with basically no standards or expectations. But I think the worse part, the really bad thing about it, is it supports a Sakura never growing up(...)as the blind quest for Sasuke’s dick goes on forevermore. All the pathetic shit will forever be apart of her as she dusts a house for a husband who comes home twice a year, who has a child who feels neglected, and she is happy with her dysfunctional family because Sasuke-kun’s anything is enough.”

Anyways.

As for her family, Sakura is clearly distressed by Sarada's distress. Kishimoto inventing a task apparently only Sasuke can do leading to him being away from his family is questionable to say the least, but it's hardly the first time in the story that normal or expected standards maybe can't or don't apply. Never mind Kishimoto probably projecting his own sentiments about men's career burnout and sacrifice onto Sasuke and Naruto...lol

Sasuke treasures Sakura, there is no way around it.

I don't think anyone is saying Kishimoto's writing is always the pinnacle of excellence lol, and no one has to like Sakura or SS. But people should at least think a little more about what Sakura has meant to a lot of girls and how the story actually unfolds.

Just a Little Bit on Sakura and Sasusaku

You know what I think about Sakura? This is less about Sasuke and more about herself. See, as person who dislikes Sakura, I actually think that because I’m not biased with fanfiction interpretations that I have a better grasp of Sakura’s character than some people who love her. Sakura, despite her bravado, is not a person of real confidence. She has low self-esteem and very little self-worth. I think that part of the reason she is so hung up on Sasuke is its a sense of validation for herself. She was shy, friendless, unpopular, and overlooked as a child. She liked Sasuke, but even better, to be acknowledged by someone everyone likes, everyone admires, that would make her special. That would make her somebody worthwhile, right? Of course I do believe that Sakura does have feelings for Sasuke, but is she really in love with Sasuke the person, or is it the idea of him? That he doesn’t notice her or pay attention to her only makes this insecurity worse. Sakura is constantly angsting over not doing enough, not fitting in on her team, not belonging or being someone of necessity. As stated (in the only time she ever elaborates on her feelings) she is attracted to Sasuke because he’s attractive, talented, and “cool”. A person who personifies, in essence, everything she believes herself not to be. God, there’s so much to say about this really, but I’ll save it for later. 

It’s part of why Sasusaku is such an out of left field idea to me. Sasusaku shippers portray the ship as the exact same way that leads Sakura’s problematic behavior. They ship it because they love the idea of Sakura being the “special one” who is the exeption to Sasuke’s personality and his greatest weakness and is the “fangirl who’s different from all the other girls”, which is so irritating because she’s not. Sakura is the antithesis of these concepts. There is nothing different or special about Sakura’s love. There is nothing different or special about her as far as relating to Sasuke goes. As I detailed in my previous posts, she doesn’t know him, she’s doesn’t understand him, she doesn’t even have a basic grasp on the concepts that are necessary for those things. Sasuke has not singled her out. She doesn’t appeal to him or interest him. She doesn’t challenge him in any emotional, mental, or physical way. They’re not even close. What does Sasuke even know about Sakura, or understand about her? Sakura, as far as Sasusaku goes, has nothing different or special about their relationship or dynamic that couldn’t be done by any other generic fangirl. Absolutely nothing. Nothing that transpired between them is anything that wouldn’t have happened had any other fangirl been placed on his team. That’s really the only thing Sakura had going for her or that seperates her from, I don’t know, Ino. Do any of you Sasusakus honestly think that if Ino was on his team that he wouldn’t have saved her life? That he wouldn’t have grown to care for her as a teammate? That he wouldn’t have thanked her for caring about him? That he would have left her to die? Or treated her like dirt on the bottom of his shoe? Do you really think that these “Sasusaku proofs of love” aren’t just generic shit that would come with virtually any other teammate, and is actually something unique that would only be there with Sakura?

‘Cause see, that's my whole thing. Can’t say that about Naruto. I can’t say that if Kiba had been his teammate, everything about their relationship would be more or less exactly the same. Or Shikamaru. Or Chouji. Or Neji. 'Cause you see, the manga has shown me this. Its shown me the depth, the reason, the relationship, the uniqueness between the two. In fact, while reading this I bet you were thinking of how different the dynamics would have been between Sasuke and those male characters, because, surprise surprise, there is actually something substantial there that can’t be replicated and receive the same results. Seriously, replace Ino with Sakura and think of what would change in regards to Sasuke. Ino would have cared. Ino would have tried to stop him. Seeing as how there are no substantial moments of bonding or exclusivity between the two, there is nothing that would have happened that Ino couldn’t fill in for. Sasuke waxed lyrical about Naruto and how much he’s always loved him and the ways in which he enriched his life for two straight chapters while Sakura got no mention (except, of course, in the Team 7 picture where he refers to them as such). Sakura was just afforded the opportunity of being the closest girl around and female main character with her legs always wide open and ready with basically no standards or expectations. 

For fucks sake, Sakura literally has nothing to do with Sasuke’s character or story arc. Seriously, delete Sakura from the manga and tell me what about Sasuke’s person or journey as character throughout the story changes. Please. Tell me something that would have affected his plot if some other girl with healing powers were on his team.

I’m just saying, there is nothing inside of Sasusaku. Nothing at all. Kishimoto doesn’t give a fuck about this pairing (lol I don’t know how they got together I don’t want any SS in the pairings movie there wasn’t gonna be any in the Bolt movie either but the SS fans are complaining so I guess I’ll come up with something here have a family pic of Sasuke looking like he’s about to run away as soon as the camera flashes and a Karin lookalike child who feels neglected), and it cannot become more apparent how little actual thought goes into this ship. Its just a vicarious fantasy ship where Sasuke is standard shoujo angsty bad boy bishie and Sakura is “independent, normal girl who’s different from all the rest” which is pretty much the antithesis of these characters. 

But I think the worse part, the really bad thing about it, is it supports a Sakura never growing up. It takes all those things (the potential for self-reflection and learning to be a person who doesn’t need others to feel worth something) and throws it in the garbage as the blind quest for Sasuke’s dick goes on forevermore. All the pathetic shit will forever be apart of her as she dusts a house for a husband who comes home twice a year, who has a child who feels neglected, and she is happy with her dysfunctional family because Sasuke-kun’s anything is enough. I don’t even fucking like Sakura, but that anyone is defending that anything about what her character turned into is satisfactory and good is honestly some disheartening shit. 

[elikajinnie]

Together As Gold - N.R & Y.J

P: Slytherins!Ni-ki & Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @milksugatae

Warnings: Love Triangle, Tension, Flirting, Humour, Arguments, Jealousy, Two Endings screw it, i cant choose between them! I MADE THEM TOO TEMPTING HELP! GO FOR BOTH IDK! THEY BOTH DOWN BADDD, Teasing... LIKE ALOT OF TEASING!!! peeves is a canon matchmaker!

Synopsis: What do you do when two cunning Slytherin boys want you? If only you knew the answer yourself.

a/n: i got a few ideas for the shenanigans so special thank you to @starf4lls and @encrifice <33 dont mind any mistakes!

see request here | hogwarts au masterlist

--

When you first found yourself at Hogwarts, you were alone. The tall stone walls, the constant chatter of students—it was all overwhelming, and you didn’t know anyone. So, you kept to yourself, focusing on finding your place, giving yourself just enough time to get used to the classes and the eccentric professors.

But once you settled into the flow, things started falling into place. You made friends with your housemates and exchanged stories. The days went by easier after that, and before long, you had a solid group of friends around you, your circle expanding little by little. It was all going well—until you were assigned to work with two Slytherins for a Herbology project.

Ni-ki and Jungwon.

They were the kind of people who knew exactly how to get under your skin. But you would figure out just how different they were from everyone else, with due time.

--

You walked out of Herbology, your hands full with books, the weight of them pressing against your chest. You were double-checking, making sure you had all your materials. The hallways were bustling with students heading to their next classes, but you didn’t mind. It gave you a bit of space to organize your thoughts.

You hadn’t noticed them at first. Ni-ki and Jungwon were trailing behind you, their voices rising in a playful but heated argument.

“I’ll ask her first,” Ni-ki insisted, his tone cocky as always.

“No way,” Jungwon shot back, his voice smooth but firm. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear the back-and-forth, but it didn’t quite register until Ni-ki, with a sudden burst of energy, slid in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. His sharp, mischievous smile was the first thing you noticed as he raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t completely interrupting your path. “What do you think about getting a head start on that project? Have you figured anything out yet?”

You blinked, surprised, and for a moment, just stared at him. Behind him, Jungwon stepped up to stand beside him, equally as composed but with a glint in his eyes that made you feel like this wasn’t just a casual suggestion. They were both waiting for you to respond, their eyes studying you, each trying to gauge how you’d react.

You narrowed your eyes at them, still trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well…” you started cautiously, “I have something figured out, but I’m still not completely sure.”

As if that was the cue they’d been waiting for, Ni-ki and Jungwon suddenly moved in closer. Before you could protest, they both grabbed your arms—Ni-ki on one side, Jungwon on the other—and pulled you along with them. You stumbled slightly, caught off guard, and blinked at the two of them in confusion.

Ni-ki’s mischievous grin never faltered. “Good, then we’ll figure the rest out together,” he said, as though it was perfectly normal for him to be dragging you along through the hallways.

Jungwon let out a soft laugh, the sound oddly charming as he looked over at Ni-ki. “Herbology isn’t even my strongest subject,” he admitted, his tone casual, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to reassure you or not.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes dramatically. “As if you have a strong subject at all,” he shot back with a grin, a little too confident in his jab.

Jungwon smirked, unbothered. “At least I don’t fail every practical. Your last Herbology experiment looked like a failed potion, Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Better than your Charms assignment, which was basically a disaster in a teacup.”

“Better than your Transfiguration homework that could only be fixed by Professor McGonagall herself,” Jungwon retorted smoothly.

You just stared at the two of them, utterly baffled. Was this really happening? They bickered back and forth as if they didn’t have a care in the world, each comment more sarcastic than the last.

“Oh, don’t even get me started on your Potions, Jungwon,” Ni-ki continued, practically laughing. “Last time you nearly blew up a Hufflepuff with a single sneeze.”

Jungwon shot him a playful glare. “At least I didn’t turn a batch of sleeping draught into a batch of pepper-up potion. You nearly made the whole class go into a caffeine frenzy.”

You raised an eyebrow, still trying to make sense of it all. Was it possible to survive being caught in the middle of this?

Jungwon leaned in a little closer, smirking. “Face it, Ni-ki. If it wasn’t for me saving your ass last semester, you’d be stuck in the library trying to figure out what went wrong with that failed Firemaking spell.”

Ni-ki grinned wider. “Who says I needed saving? I had it all under control, except for the little incident with the blast-ended skrewt…”

You sighed, realizing that you were witnessing a rivalry of sorts, but one that seemed more like the banter between good friends. It didn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. How were you supposed to survive having these two as your project partners?

Okay, turns out you would survive having them as your project partners. Despite their obvious lack of skill in Herbology, they did help—or at least tried to. Both of them seemed strangely determined, which you quickly realized wasn’t out of pure goodwill but out of a mutual fear of failing the subject. For what reason, you didn’t know, but the way they occasionally exchanged nervous glances during Professor Sprout’s lectures told you there was more to it than they were letting on.

What you did know, however, was that they were a surprisingly funny duo. Whether it was Ni-ki accidentally knocking over a pot of bouncing bulb roots and blaming it on Jungwon, or Jungwon deadpanning as he handed you a watering can he had accidentally charmed to spray in every direction but the plants, they somehow managed to turn the tedious project into something… enjoyable.

“You were supposed to prune it, not scare it to death!” you groaned, staring at the now-drooping Flutterby bush in Ni-ki’s hands.

“It’s not dead! It’s just taking a nap!” Ni-ki argued, holding it up defensively.

“Sure,” Jungwon interjected with a smirk. “Because plants definitely sleep like that.” He gestured at the pitiful bush, which was half dangling out of its pot.

“Do you want to take over?” Ni-ki shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh wait, you can’t even tell the difference between a Shrivelfig and a gourd!”

Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “And yet, I’m still doing better than you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Somehow, their antics made it easy for you to relax and talk to them, like you’d known them since your first year at Hogwarts. They had this way of making you feel included in their little bubble of chaos, like you were already part of their circle of friends.

The three of you spent hours in the greenhouse, working on the project—and while there was plenty of bickering and mishaps, you couldn’t deny how much easier it was to get through with them.

Surprisingly, you all managed to finish the project on time, even if a few mishaps happened along the way—and even if a few unfortunate plants didn’t make it. The Flutterby bush never quite recovered from Ni-ki’s aggressive pruning, and Jungwon accidentally overwatered the Fanged Geranium, which resulted in a small flood and several frantic minutes of dodging snapping leaves. But somehow, against all odds, you pulled it together.

What shocked you most wasn’t just that the project was finished, but that you actually enjoyed your time with them. Sure, they were a pair of chaotic distractions half the time, but their constant banter and ridiculous antics made the whole ordeal much more bearable than you’d expected. It was easy to laugh with them, easy to talk to them about random things that had nothing to do with Herbology. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a school assignment and started feeling like… fun.

When Professor Sprout handed back your marks, you almost didn’t believe it. The three of you passed the project with flying colors.

“See?” Ni-ki said smugly, leaning back in his chair and flashing a grin at you and Jungwon. “I told you we’d ace it.”

“You told us nothing,” Jungwon deadpanned, elbowing him lightly. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have even known which end of a Mandrake to pull.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be trying to figure out how to trim the Devil’s Snare without getting strangled.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the two of them. “If it weren’t for me, neither of you would’ve made it past the planning stage.”

They both paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Fair enough,” Jungwon said with a small grin.

“Yeah,” Ni-ki added, nudging you playfully. “Guess you did help us.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. They might have been annoying, chaotic, and occasionally useless when it came to Herbology, but you had to admit—working with them had been fun.

And you honestly thought that was it—that after the Herbology project, you wouldn’t have to worry about Ni-ki and Jungwon anymore. They’d go back to their own lives, and you’d go back to yours, free of their chaos. But clearly, you were wrong.

The very next day, you were calmly walking toward the Great Hall for lunch, your mind blissfully occupied with thoughts of pumpkin pasties and butterbeer, when a loud BOOM echoed through the hallway behind you. The ground shook slightly, and the smell of smoke began to fill the air.

You froze, eyes widening as you turned around. Before you could even process what had happened, the rapid sound of footsteps thundered in your direction. Your gasp caught in your throat as you saw them—Jungwon and Ni-ki—sprinting down the corridor with wild, panicked looks on their faces.

“Run! Let’s go, let’s go!” Ni-ki shouted, his voice loud and urgent.

Before you could even ask what was going on, they spotted you. Without missing a beat, they grabbed you—Ni-ki gripping one arm, Jungwon the other—and practically dragged you along with them as they continued their frantic escape.

“Wait! What—what are you—” you tried to protest, your feet stumbling to keep up as they pulled you at full speed.

“Let’s go, let’s go, don’t stop!” Ni-ki repeated, glancing back over his shoulder like he expected something—or someone—to be chasing you.

“What did you two do?” you demanded, the words coming out more like a yell as they yanked you around a corner.

Jungwon was panting but managed to shoot you an innocent look. “Nothing serious,” he said, though the faint hint of panic in his voice betrayed him. “Just… a minor miscalculation.”

“A miscalculation?! What does that even mean?”

Before either of them could answer, another explosion rang out from somewhere behind you, followed by an angry voice shouting something you couldn’t quite make out. Your stomach dropped as realization began to dawn on you.

“Did you two blow something up?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief.

“Not on purpose!” Ni-ki shot back defensively, still pulling you forward. “We were just experimenting in the Potions classroom—”

“It was his idea,” Jungwon interrupted, cutting him off with a pointed look.

“Oh, don’t even start!” Ni-ki snapped, glaring at him. “You were the one who said, ‘Let’s add just a little more firewhiskey to see what happens!’”

“And you’re the one who actually poured it in!” Jungwon countered, his tone exasperated.

You stared at them, completely dumbfounded. This couldn’t be real. How had you gone from a peaceful walk to being dragged into yet another one of their disasters in less than two minutes?

“Why am I even here?!” you shouted, half running, half being dragged.

“Because,” Jungwon said, shooting you a quick grin despite the chaos, “you’re our lucky charm. And we figured you wouldn’t mind helping us... again.”

“You figured wrong!” you snapped, but neither of them seemed to care.

All you could do was sigh as they continued dragging you down the hall, their bickering somehow louder than the chaos they’d left. You were starting to think that surviving the Herbology project was only the beginning of whatever mess these two had planned for your life.

And, well, you were right. After meeting Ni-ki and Jungwon, your once relatively peaceful life became a whirlwind of chaos. Everything they did—everything—somehow ended up involving you, whether you wanted it to or not. It wasn’t long before their mischief became a permanent fixture in your day-to-day existence.

If they were planning a prank, they either roped you in to help or you’d somehow stumble across them in the aftermath, frantically trying to help them hide from Filch. And of course, you’d end up covering for them because they’d flash you those overly innocent smiles that made it impossible to say no.

If they were skipping class, you found yourself torn between making up excuses to the professors on their behalf or—more often than you cared to admit—being dragged along with them. “Just this once,” they’d promise, only for it to happen again the next week. And the week after that.

If they were goofing around, you were inevitably dragged into it. A simple walk to the library would somehow turn into a duel with floating chocolate frogs in the middle of the corridor. And if they decided to sneak out to Hogsmeade, you’d find yourself sandwiched between them at the Three Broomsticks, half-laughing, half-sighing as they plotted their next big thing.

Even their visits to Hagrid’s hut became a regular thing for you. The first time, they claimed they just wanted to “show you something cool,” but the next thing you knew, you were in Hagrid’s hut, trying to dodge a Blast-Ended Skrewt that had gotten a little too excited. It was a miracle you all made it out in one piece.

Somewhere along the way, though, all of the chaos and madness began to feel normal. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but you’d become friends with them—real friends. The kind who stuck by each other, no matter how ridiculous the situation. And, as much as you hated to admit it sometimes, you enjoyed it. They made life more exciting and a lot more fun.

Eventually, the three of you became known across the school as the Mischief Trio. Every time something happened—whether it was a dungbomb going off in the middle of a Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch match, a swarm of enchanted paper birds in the library, or Filch’s office mysteriously flooding—it was almost guaranteed that you three were involved in some way. Professors groaned at the sight of you, and other students either avoided you or gravitated toward you, depending on their appetite for trouble.

But no matter how much trouble you got into, you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Sure, they drove you crazy most of the time, but they also made Hogwarts feel a little more like home. And you knew you’d always have their backs—just like they’d always have yours.

So it wasn’t really much of a surprise when you were sitting quietly in the library, diligently working through your Potions notes, and Jungwon suddenly appeared, slipping into the seat across from you. A second later, Ni-ki followed, plopping himself down beside him. Neither said a word, which was unusual. You didn’t even lift your head, only glanced at them for a brief second in acknowledgment before returning your attention to your notes.

The silence lingered, and for a moment, you were genuinely surprised. Normally, by now, they’d have already started whispering—well, trying to whisper—about their latest harebrained idea or grumbled about how boring studying was. It would escalate until Madam Pince would inevitably swoop in with her stern glare and a sharp “Silence!” by which point they’d be grinning like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But this time, they just sat there, completely quiet.

It was so unlike them that you couldn’t help but glance up, a little suspicious. Jungwon was leaning casually back in his chair, flipping idly through a random book he’d grabbed, while Ni-ki seemed to be doodling on a scrap of parchment. Neither of them met your gaze, though you could tell something was up by the way they were both sneaking glances at you from the corners of their eyes.

Before you could say anything, Jungwon slipped something across the table—a small folded piece of parchment. You frowned, curiosity piqued, and carefully opened it.

We need your help. Meet us at the Astronomy Tower after dinner. Don’t tell anyone.

You stared at the note for a moment before glancing up at him. Jungwon raised an eyebrow at you, his expression unreadable but with just enough of a spark in his eyes to make you wary. Beside him, Ni-ki finally looked up from his parchment and gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with stealing a cauldron cake.

“What exactly do you need help with?” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at them.

Ni-ki quickly shushed you, his grin widening. “Not here,” he muttered, gesturing around dramatically as if someone might be listening. “Just come later, and we’ll explain everything.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why do I feel like this is going to get me into trouble?”

“Because it probably will,” Jungwon said with a small, unapologetic shrug. “But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

You gave him a flat look, but he and Ni-ki just grinned at you, their expressions far too innocent for comfort. Whatever they had planned, you already knew it wasn’t going to be anything good. And yet, you knew you’d end up going.

Because somehow, they always managed to drag you along.

So, you did end up going to the Astronomy Tower after dinner, half-expecting to find them already waiting for you. But when you arrived, the place was empty. The cool night air swept through the open windows as you looked around, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor.

"Jungwon? Ni-ki?" you whispered, peering into the shadows. No response.

You frowned, waiting for a few minutes, debating whether you’d been pranked. Then, the faint sound of stone shifting caught your attention. Whipping your head around, you scanned the room—and almost screamed when you saw a hole opening in the stone wall near your leg.

“Relax,” Ni-ki’s grinning face popped out of the hole, his head tilted mischievously. His voice was almost too casual for someone emerging from a secret passage. “It’s just me. Come on, get in.”

“What—Ni-ki? What is—how did you even—” you stammered, taking a step back as he motioned for you to follow.

“No time for questions. Just get in,” he urged, already reaching out to grab your ankle.

“Wait, get in where?” you asked, taking a cautious step closer, only for him to start pulling you toward the hole. “Ni-ki, this is insane—what is even—”

“Just trust me!” he said with a grin, dragging you through the opening before you could protest further.

You stumbled into the narrow passageway as Ni-ki pushed the stone slab back into place behind you, sealing off the entrance as if it had never been there. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a spiraling stone staircase, the air growing colder as you descended.

“This better not be a prank,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“Oh, it’s not,” he said, his voice carrying a suspiciously gleeful undertone.

Finally, you reached a small, dimly lit room, the stone walls lined with shelves holding jars of unidentifiable substances. In the middle of the room sat Jungwon, surrounded by an assortment of ingredients, potion books, and a bubbling cauldron. The faint greenish glow of the potion illuminated his face as he looked up at you with a sheepish grin.

“You made it,” he said simply, as if you’d just arrived for a casual study session.

Ni-ki let go of your wrist and plopped down beside Jungwon, motioning for you to sit. You hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering yourself onto the floor. As you settled in, your eyes darted to the mess of potion ingredients scattered around the room—lacewing flies, leeches, powdered bicorn horn, boomslang skin.

Your stomach dropped as you recognized the familiar list of items. Glancing at one of the potion books lying open beside Jungwon, your suspicion was confirmed.

They were making Polyjuice Potion.

“Are you two insane?” you hissed, your voice sharp but quiet. “You do know this is against the rules, right?”

“Rules?” Ni-ki scoffed, waving you off as if you’d just told him the sky was blue. “Only if we get caught.”

“And we’re not going to get caught,” Jungwon added confidently, gesturing toward the cauldron. “We’ve been careful. No one even knows we’re down here.”

You stared at them, utterly baffled. “Why are you even making Polyjuice Potion? What could you possibly need it for?”

They exchanged a quick glance, and you immediately knew you weren’t going to like their answer.

“Well…” Ni-ki started, dragging out the word as if trying to figure out how to phrase it.

Jungwon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just… need to, uh, borrow someone’s identity for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Whose?”

Ni-ki grinned, clearly finding the entire situation amusing. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “I want no part in this. You two are going to get expelled if anyone finds out!”

“Relax,” Ni-ki said, leaning back against the wall. “We’ve got it under control.”

“You don’t even have it finished yet, do you?” you said, gesturing to the messy pile of jars and powders.

“Well, no,” Jungwon admitted, his tone hesitant. “That’s… kind of where you come in.”

You groaned, already regretting every decision that had led you to this moment. “Of course it is.”

“We just need a little help,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And who better to help than the smartest person we know?”

You glared at him. “Flattery isn’t going to work.”

“Come on,” Jungwon said, his voice annoyingly reasonable. “You’ve already helped us so many times. What’s one more?”

“One more? This is Polyjuice Potion we’re talking about!” you hissed, staring at them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as they launched into a chorus of pleading.

“Please,” Ni-ki whined, dragging out the word like a child denied dessert. “Just this once—well, technically not just this once—but, you know, this time’s important!”

“Very important,” Jungwon chimed in, nodding solemnly.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Important? You mean ‘reckless’ and ‘completely unnecessary.’”

Ni-ki pouted dramatically, scooting closer to you on his knees. “Come on, don’t be like that! You’re our only hope.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t happening,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering.

But then Jungwon joined in, mirroring Ni-ki’s position on your other side. Now you were flanked by both of them, their faces far too close for comfort, with matching grins.

“Pretty please?” Jungwon said, tilting his head and batting his lashes like he was trying to win some sort of charm contest.

“With chocolate frogs on top?” Ni-ki added, leaning in with a cheeky smirk.

You glanced between them, your eyes narrowing as they started piling on the dramatics.

“You’re the best at brewing potions!” Jungwon said, nudging your arm.

“And the smartest,” Ni-ki added, nudging your other arm.

“Way better at this than us,” Jungwon continued, his tone dripping with faux admiration.

“And let’s be real—you’re kind of already involved, so why not just see it through?” Ni-ki finished, his grin turning downright devilish.

You rolled your eyes. “You mean you two dragged me into this against my will. That’s not the same thing as being ‘involved.’”

“Details,” Jungwon said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Come on,” Ni-ki teased, leaning so close that you instinctively leaned back. “We’re your friends, remember? What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help us out?”

“Yeah, what kind of friend?” Jungwon echoed, his voice dripping with mock hurt.

You glared at them, your resolve faltering slightly as they both gave you identical puppy-dog eyes. They knew exactly what they were doing, and unfortunately, you knew exactly how this would end.

“You two are the worst,” you muttered under your breath, looking down at the potion book in front of you.

“Does that mean you’ll help?” Ni-ki asked, his grin widening in triumph.

“Ugh, fine,” you groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “But if we get caught, I’m telling them it was all your idea.”

“Deal,” Jungwon said quickly, already flipping to the next page of the book.

Ni-ki threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. “Knew you’d come through for us.”

You sighed, wondering for the millionth time how you always let them talk you into these things. If Hogwarts ever handed out awards for bad decisions, you were pretty sure you’d win one.

You sighed for the umpteenth time as you carefully added a pinch of powdered bicorn horn into the bubbling cauldron. The potion hissed softly as the powder dissolved, releasing a faint green wisp of smoke. Ni-ki and Jungwon sat on either side of you, their usual antics subdued for once as they watched you work, their eyes glued to your every move like you were performing some kind of ancient magic ritual.

"Can you two stop staring at me like that?" you muttered without looking up, your voice edged with exasperation.

"We're just... observing," Jungwon said innocently, though the small smirk on his lips betrayed him.

"Yeah, gotta make sure you're doing it right," Ni-ki added with a teasing lilt.

You shot them both a sharp look. "Oh, I'm the one you're worried about messing this up? Let me remind you whose brilliant idea this was."

Ni-ki grinned, leaning closer. "Exactly. Which is why we need you to handle it—you’re way better at this than we’d ever be. Right, Jungwon?"

Jungwon nodded seriously, though his gaze didn’t waver from the potion. "Yeah. If it were up to us, we’d probably blow something up by now."

You couldn’t argue with that. They had the combined attention span of a niffler in a jewelry shop.

"Just don’t distract me," you muttered, carefully stirring the potion clockwise. "If you make me mess this up, we’ll have to start all over again, and I am not spending another night like this with you two."

"Aw, you love spending time with us," Ni-ki teased, leaning his chin on his hand as he continued to watch you.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead focusing on the precise instructions in the book. Step by step, you added each ingredient, your movements careful and deliberate. Occasionally, you’d glance at the timer Jungwon had set, making sure everything was timed perfectly.

As the potion began to turn the intended muddy brown color, a sign that it was nearing completion, you let out a small breath of relief.

"Wow," Ni-ki said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was softer, almost genuine for once. "You’re, like... really good at this."

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t sound so surprised."

"I’m not," he said quickly, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "But watching you work is kind of impressive."

Jungwon nodded in agreement, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "Yeah. We’d be completely hopeless without you."

For a moment, their compliments caught you off guard. You felt heat rising to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it by focusing on the potion again.

"Well, maybe next time, don’t drag me into something like this again, and I won’t have to save your butts," you said, though your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Ni-ki chuckled. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Jungwon leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table. "You wouldn’t leave us to fend for ourselves, though. Admit it—you’d miss us."

You rolled your eyes, stirring the potion one last time. "I’d miss the peace and quiet more."

They both laughed, and for a brief moment, the room felt lighter. As chaotic as they were, you couldn’t deny that there was something oddly comforting about their presence, even when they were dragging you into one ridiculous situation after another.

"Alright," you said finally, stepping back and wiping your hands on your robes. "The potion’s done—for now. It needs to sit for a month before it’s ready to use."

"A month?" Ni-ki groaned, slumping back against the wall dramatically.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "Did you even read the instructions before planning this?"

"Of course I did!" Ni-ki said, though his expression said otherwise.

You shook your head, gathering up the leftover ingredients. "Typical. Anyway, you two better figure out what you’re actually going to use this for. I’m not getting involved beyond this point."

"Sure you’re not," Jungwon said with a knowing smirk.

Ni-ki grinned, leaning forward with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, we’ll see about that."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off your robes as you stood up, ready to leave this chaotic duo behind for the night. "Well, good luck with your little plan or whatever. I’m going to pretend I was never here."

But before you could take more than a step, Jungwon was suddenly on his feet, grabbing your wrist with a firm but gentle grip.

"Wait," he said, his eyes bright with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and Ni-ki. "What now? I already did what you wanted. I’m not doing anything else."

Jungwon grinned, ignoring your protests entirely. "We want to show you something."

You blinked, confused. "Show me what?"

"You’ll see," Ni-ki chimed in, already moving and motioned for Jungwon to hurry up.

"Come on," Jungwon said, tugging on your wrist before you could protest further.

Sighing, you let yourself be dragged along, too tired to argue. "This better not get me into more trouble."

"No promises," Ni-ki called over his shoulder, a teasing lilt in his voice as he disappeared down the corridor.

The three of you navigated through the dark, winding passageways beneath the castle, the air cool and slightly damp. You had no idea where they were taking you, but you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

After what felt like ages of walking, Ni-ki and Jungwon came to a stop in front of a narrow staircase that spiraled upward.

"Here we are," Ni-ki announced, gesturing grandly.

You frowned, looking up the staircase. "Where exactly is here?"

"You’ll see," Jungwon said, his grin widening as he nudged you toward the stairs.

With an annoyed sigh, you reluctantly began to climb, Jungwon following close behind while Ni-ki took the lead. When you finally reached the top, Ni-ki pushed open a small wooden door, and you stepped out into the cool night air.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you. You were on a secluded rooftop of the castle, the view stretching out over the Hogwarts grounds. The Forbidden Forest loomed dark and mysterious in the distance, and the Black Lake shimmered faintly under the light of the moon.

"Whoa," you breathed, momentarily forgetting your irritation.

"Told you it was worth it," Jungwon said, his tone softer now as he stepped up beside you.

Ni-ki plopped down on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling over the side as he leaned back on his hands. "We found this spot last year. Nobody ever comes up here. It’s kind of... ours."

"Well, now it’s ours," Jungwon corrected, shooting you a smile.

You glanced between the two of them, your heart softening despite yourself. For all their chaos and mischief, they had a knack for moments like this—moments that made you glad you were friends with them.å

"So," Ni-ki said, breaking the silence, "what do you think? Worth the trek?"

You gave him a small smile, finally letting your guard down. "Yeah... it’s pretty amazing."

Jungwon leaned back against the wall, a satisfied grin on his face. "Knew you’d like it."

The three of you sat there for a while, just sharing a quiet night under the stars.

--

Well, you would love to say that the month waiting for the Polyjuice Potion to set was peaceful.

But that would be a lie.

No, the so-called "peaceful waiting period" turned into absolute chaos. Since Ni-ki and Jungwon couldn't carry out their grand plan just yet—one they still refused to tell you about, claiming it was a "surprise"—they apparently decided to channel their boredom into wreaking havoc around the castle.

The professors were on edge, constantly looking over their shoulders for the next disaster. Filch was more paranoid than ever, skulking through the hallways with his lantern, muttering about "those blasted kids." Even the ghosts seemed jumpier than usual, drifting through walls with wary expressions, as though they'd had enough of the two troublemakers.

And somehow, no matter what you were doing, you always managed to get roped into their schemes.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d accidentally stumbled upon them in the middle of one of their rule-breaking escapades. It was like you had some sort of invisible string tying you to their chaos. You’d walk into a corridor or step into an empty classroom, minding your own business, only to find them hunched over a suspicious-looking contraption or whispering excitedly about their next prank.

The moment they spotted you, it was over.

"Perfect timing!" Ni-ki would exclaim, as if you’d planned to walk in on them.

"Don’t just stand there—help us!" Jungwon would add, usually while pushing something heavy or fumbling with something clearly not meant to be in a student’s hands.

And no matter how much you protested, no matter how loudly you declared that you wanted nothing to do with their shenanigans, you’d inevitably end up being dragged into it.

One time, you’d walked into the library, thinking you’d finally get a peaceful moment to study. Instead, you found them standing in the Restricted Section, both of them holding an armful of books they definitely weren’t supposed to have.

“What are you doing?!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure Madam Pince wasn’t nearby.

“Research,” Ni-ki said simply, dropping the books onto a nearby table with a loud thud.

“For what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned. “Class stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jungwon, on the other hand, looked at you with a completely straight face. “He’s lying. We’re looking up forbidden spells.”

You groaned. “Why do I even bother?”

Another time, you were walking back to your dorm after dinner, only to see Filch sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction, his face red with fury. Moments later, Ni-ki and Jungwon rounded the corner, both breathless and laughing, carrying what looked like an entire box of dungbombs.

You froze. “Nope. Not happening. I don’t even want to know—”

But before you could finish, they grabbed you by the arms and dragged you into an alcove, whispering something about "keeping watch" while they set up their latest prank.

“Do I look like I want detention?” you hissed, glaring at them.

Ni-ki just grinned. “Come on, you’re part of the team now. This is bonding.”

“This is stupidity,” you shot back, though you reluctantly stood guard while they did whatever it was they were doing.

And then there was the time in the Great Hall. You were just trying to enjoy breakfast, eating your toast in peace, when suddenly a flock of enchanted paper cranes came swooping down from the ceiling, diving and swirling around the students. The Hall erupted into chaos as people swatted at the cranes, which were apparently charmed to sing obnoxiously off-key.

You didn’t need to look far to figure out who was responsible. Sure enough, Ni-ki and Jungwon were sitting a few seats away, barely holding back their laughter as they watched the scene unfold.

“You two are going to get expelled,” you muttered as you sat down next to them, shooting them both a glare.

“Worth it,” Ni-ki said, grinning as a crane landed on his shoulder.

“Totally worth it,” Jungwon agreed, taking a bite of his toast as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Did you gravitate toward them or something? Because no matter how hard you tried to stay out of their messes, you always seemed to end up right in the middle of them.

And yet, despite the chaos, despite the rule-breaking, and despite the constant time spent in detention... you couldn’t help but laugh. They made it impossible not to.

--

You were generally just trying to mind your own business, walking through the dimly lit hallway near Filch’s office, when you spotted them.

Ni-ki and Jungwon stood just a few feet away, both leaning casually against the wall like they didn’t have a care in the world. Which would’ve been believable—if not for the way their eyes darted around like they were scanning for witnesses. They somehow looked both innocent and highly suspicious at the same time, a combination that never boded well.

Your instincts immediately kicked in: Turn around. Walk away. Pretend you didn’t see anything.

But, of course, luck wasn’t on your side.

Ni-ki’s head shot up, his sharp eyes catching you before you could even take a single step back. “Hey! You!” he called out, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

You groaned audibly, muttering, “Why me?”

Before you could say anything else, Ni-ki was already jogging over to you, his excitement practically radiating off him. “Come on, come on,” he said eagerly, grabbing your arm and tugging you toward Jungwon.

“Do I have to come?” you asked weakly, already knowing the answer.

Ni-ki didn’t even bother responding. He just pulled you along as you let out a resigned sigh, casting one last glance at the exit you’d never make it to.

When you finally reached Jungwon, you gave them both a pointed look. “Alright, what are you two planning this time?”

Jungwon didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, his grin spreading mischievously. Holding it in one hand, he drew his wand with the other.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said softly, his voice practically dripping with mischief as he tapped the parchment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as the blank parchment shimmered and began to transform, intricate lines and scribbles spreading across it like ink soaking into paper. A moment later, you realized it was a map—an incredibly detailed map of Hogwarts.

Your jaw dropped as you leaned closer, watching names begin to pop up across the surface, tiny dots moving around the corridors and rooms. Students, professors... even Filch and Mrs. Norris were labeled as they wandered the castle.

“What the—?!” you gasped, utterly shocked. “Where did you get this?”

Ni-ki leaned in close, his chin practically resting on your head. You felt his full weight press on your back as he grinned. “A trickster never reveals their secrets,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You grumbled in annoyance, trying to shove him off. “Will you get off me?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation, and stayed exactly where he was. Curse his height—and the fact that he was impossible to move when he didn’t want to be moved. With a resigned sigh, you let him rest there, shooting him a glare he just ignored.

Meanwhile, Jungwon pointed at the map, his grin taking on a distinctly cat-like quality. “Look,” he said, his finger tracing a path on the parchment.

You followed his gaze and froze. There, on the map, was Filch. He was several hallways away, but he was moving steadily in your general direction.

“Perfect,” Jungwon murmured, his grin widening as his eyes sparkled with mischief.

You gave him a wary look. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret being here?”

“You’ll be fine,” Ni-ki said breezily, still leaning on you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re one of us now, remember?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes flicking back to the map as the ominous dot labeled Filch continued to move closer.

Whatever they were planning, you had a sinking feeling it was going to end with you all running for your lives. Again.

So you stood there in stunned silence, half-expecting to wake up from a bizarre dream, as Jungwon and Ni-ki expertly worked together like they had done this a thousand times before.

Jungwon was the distraction. With a flick of his wand, he whispered a Muffliato charm, ensuring Filch wouldn’t hear the chaos unfolding in his own office. Meanwhile, Ni-ki was crouched by the lock, muttering a soft Alohomora under his breath. The click of the door unlocking sent a pang of dread straight to your stomach.

"Are we seriously doing this?" you hissed, still frozen outside the office door.

Ni-ki smirked as he pushed it open. "Oh, we’re way past asking that question."

Before you could argue, Jungwon grabbed your arm and pulled you in, shutting the door behind you with a silent wave of his wand. You stared at them as they got to work.

Jungwon headed straight for Filch’s desk, pulling out drawers and rifling through papers like he was on a scavenger hunt. Meanwhile, Ni-ki found the confiscated items cabinet, letting out an impressed whistle as he examined its contents. “Wow, Filch really doesn’t like fun, huh? Half of this stuff is just Zonko’s products.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You’re going to get us all expelled.”

“Correction,” Jungwon said without looking up. “We’ll only get expelled if we get caught.”

“Helpful,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you watched him pull out a particularly nasty-looking parchment.

“Ah-ha!” Jungwon exclaimed, holding up the paper triumphantly. “The list of confiscated items! This is gold. Imagine what we can do with this.”

You opened your mouth to ask what exactly he planned to do with it, but Ni-ki interrupted by shoving a colorful box in your hands. “Look at this! It’s one of those fireworks from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Filch had no business taking this away.”

Before you could respond, Ni-ki grabbed another handful of glittery objects from the cabinet and threw them into a sack he’d conjured from thin air. You groaned.

“And what are we going to do with all this stuff?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

Ni-ki gave you a mischievous grin, holding up a handful of confetti. “Oh, we have plans.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of pure chaos.

Jungwon enchanted the ceiling to rain confetti every time someone entered the office. Ni-ki, on the other hand, seemed to have a vendetta against Filch’s desk, which was now buried under a mountain of glitter, enchanted to sparkle like a thousand stars under torchlight. You tried—really, you did—to stop them, but they ignored you completely, too caught up in their gleeful destruction.

“Oh, and this will be the pièce de résistance,” Ni-ki said, holding up a firework and sticking it in the middle of Filch’s desk like a centerpiece. “Timed to go off the moment he sits down.”

“Brilliant,” Jungwon agreed, stepping back to admire their handiwork with a proud smile.

You stared at the chaos surrounding you. Filch’s office looked like a carnival had exploded in it. Glitter covered every surface, the confetti charm was in full effect, and there were at least three forbidden spells buzzing quietly in the air.

“This is... insane,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Insanely fun, you mean,” Ni-ki corrected, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, admit it. You’re impressed.”

“I’m horrified,” you shot back.

Jungwon checked the Marauder’s Map, his grin turning slightly panicked. “Uh, we should probably go. Filch is coming back.”

At that, Ni-ki straightened, grabbing the sack of confiscated items. “Alright, let’s move. You coming, partner-in-crime?” he asked, looking down at you with that maddening grin of his.

You groaned but followed as they bolted for the door, the three of you slipping out just in time. You could hear Filch’s grumbling in the distance as you sprinted down the hall.

When you finally stopped running, out of breath and covered in a faint layer of glitter, Ni-ki turned to you with a triumphant grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Jungwon snorted. “Speak for yourself. Y/N was ready to disown us back there.”

You glared at them, pointing at the faint trail of glitter that followed you like a beacon. “We’re all getting detention if this doesn’t wash off.”

Ni-ki just shrugged, still grinning. “Worth it.”

You sighed, already preparing yourself for the next disaster they’d drag you into.

You never really expected to stay friends with them. Honestly, you didn’t even know when you had officially crossed the line into friendship—it just kind of happened. Despite being dragged into their mischief constantly, despite the headaches and the near-expulsions, they had somehow managed to carve a space in your life that you hadn’t realized.

And while they were an absolute menace most of the time, there were moments where they surprised you.

Like when you were stuck in the hospital wing after a particularly nasty Quidditch accident, and Ni-ki had snuck in late at night to bring you sweets he’d smuggled from the kitchens. “Thought you could use a little sugar rush,” he’d said with a grin, settling down at the edge of your bed like he planned to stay there all night.

Or the time you got a nasty grade on an essay in Transfiguration, and Jungwon, who had perfected the subject, had sat with you for hours helping you revise until you finally understood it. He’d teased you endlessly, of course, but he still patiently explained things, as though he believed in you even when you didn’t.

These small moments added up, painting a picture of your friendship that was as genuine as it was chaotic.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that their feelings for you ran deeper than friendship.

The way Ni-ki’s teasing became just a little softer when it was directed at you. The way he always found an excuse to stand close, to brush against your shoulder or nudge you playfully, his gaze lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Or the way Jungwon seemed to falter around you in small ways. The way his eyes softened whenever you laughed, or the way his voice always lost a bit of its sharpness when he said your name.

Neither of them had admitted it—maybe not even to themselves—but it was there.

And you, completely unaware, continued to treat them like the troublemaking friends you’d grown so used to, never realizing the turmoil you were unknowingly causing in their hearts.

Eventually, the month was up, and the Polyjuice Potion had finally set.

Jungwon and Ni-ki, as eager as ever, wasted no time dragging you back into the secret passageway where they’d first revealed their ridiculous plan. You’d been half-hoping they’d forgotten about it, or maybe come to their senses, but judging by the gleam in their eyes, you knew better.

Jungwon carefully ladled some of the potion into a glass, the thick, murky liquid swirling ominously. The smell was awful—like burnt cabbage and old socks—and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose in disgust.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked, eyeing the potion warily.

"Positive," Jungwon said, far too confidently for someone about to drink something that could very well land him in the hospital wing—or worse.

Ni-ki leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like this was the best entertainment he’d had all year. "Go on, Jungwon. Bottoms up."

With a deep breath and a glance at the both of you, Jungwon tipped the glass back and downed the potion in one swift gulp. Almost immediately, he doubled over, clutching his stomach as his body began to shift and change.

You and Ni-ki stepped back instinctively, watching in both awe and horror as Jungwon’s dark hair lightened to a sandy brown, his frame stretched slightly taller, and his features rearranged themselves into something alarmingly familiar.

When he straightened up, you found yourself face-to-face with the Gryffindor prefect.

"What," you said flatly, blinking at him as your brain struggled to process what you were seeing.

Jungwon—now looking and sounding exactly like the Gryffindor prefect—grinned. "What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh?"

You stared at him, dumbfounded. "You’re him. You’re literally him."

Ni-ki let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. "This is incredible. You even nailed his ‘holier-than-thou’ smirk." He clapped his hands together, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. "Absolutely flawless. Ten out of ten. You could fool anyone."

Still reeling, you turned to Ni-ki, your voice rising. "What is this plan, exactly? What are you two planning to do now that Jungwon looks like the Gryffindor prefect?"

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, right. About that…" He stepped closer, lowering his voice as though he were about to share the world’s best-kept secret.

You crossed your arms, waiting impatiently.

"We," he began, drawing out the word dramatically, "are going to change the Gryffindor common room password."

You blinked. "You made me brew a highly risky potion—risked detention and possible expulsion just to change the password to the Gryffindor common room?"

"Exactly!" Ni-ki exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if to emphasize his point. "Gryffindor’s been unbearable ever since they won the last Quidditch match. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces, strutting around like they’re the kings of the castle—"

Jungwon, now examining his new appearance in a nearby reflective surface, chimed in, "Which they’re not, by the way."

Ni-ki shrugged, completely unapologetic. "It’s payback. Justice if you would say."

Jungwon, nodded solemnly. "It’s about the principle."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "You two are insane. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ll be in if you get caught?"

Ni-ki leaned closer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That’s why we won’t get caught."

"Uh-huh," you deadpanned, entirely unconvinced. "And if the real Gryffindor prefect shows up?"

Ni-ki waved you off. "That’s why we’ve got a lookout."

"Who’s the lookout?" you asked warily.

Ni-ki gave you a pointed look, his grin widening mischievously.

"No," you said immediately, stepping back. "Absolutely not. I am not going to be the lookout for this ridiculous plan."

"Come on," Ni-ki whined, grabbing your arm and giving you a pleading look. "You’re the only one we trust for the job. Plus, you’re great at pretending you don’t know us if things go south."

"That’s not a compliment," you snapped, but Ni-ki just laughed.

"Please!!!" Jungwon said, and despite the fact that his face wasn’t his own, his tone was still undeniably his. "We need you."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. They were absolutely impossible. Still, as much as you wanted to walk away and leave them to their ridiculous plan, you knew you wouldn’t. "I can’t believe I’m even here for this."

Ni-ki slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Come on, Y/N. Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"Buried under my sense of self-preservation," you muttered, but neither of them seemed to care.

"Boooring!" Ni-ki said immediately, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward the entrance of the secret passage. "Now, let’s go. We’ve got a password to change."

You groaned, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment.

You all snuck out of the astronomy tower heading toward the Gryffindor Tower with hushed footsteps and quick glances over your shoulders. Jungwon—still posing as the Gryffindor prefect—was striding ahead with a perfect air of authority, his shoulders squared, and his expression sharp.

You and Ni-ki, on the other hand, trailed behind him with exaggeratedly guilty faces.

"Slouch more," Jungwon hissed over his shoulder, his voice clipped and stern. "You’re supposed to look like you’ve been caught red-handed."

"I am slouching!" Ni-ki shot back in a loud whisper, looking offended. "I’m a professional at looking guilty, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, muttering, "Not exactly something to be proud of, Ni-ki."

Ni-ki ignored you, but when a group of Gryffindor students turned the corner, his whole demeanor changed in an instant. He widened his eyes, hung his head, and even dragged his feet slightly, looking every bit the part of a student who’d just been caught in the act of breaking the rules.

Jungwon glared at you both, his performance flawless. "I can’t believe the two of you thought stealing sweets from the kitchens was a good idea," he said in a loud, scolding tone that echoed through the corridor.

You couldn’t help but cringe at his words. The act was working. The group of Gryffindor students didn’t even give you a second glance as they walked by, probably assuming you were just another pair of troublemakers getting told off by a prefect.

As soon as the students disappeared around the corner, Ni-ki snickered, nudging you with his elbow. "See? We’re naturals."

"Or completely insane," you shot back, still uneasy about the whole plan.

Jungwon, still fully in character, glanced back at you both with a dramatic sigh. "Would you two focus? We’re almost there."

You tried to steady your nerves as you approached the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Jungwon cleared his throat, adjusted his posture, and stepped forward, looking every bit the part of the Gryffindor prefect he was impersonating.

The Fat Lady’s eyes opened, and she squinted down at him. "Oh, it’s you. Back already?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

"Yes," Jungwon replied smoothly, his voice mimicking the prefect’s perfectly. "I need to update the password."

You blinked, silently impressed at how calm and composed he sounded.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow. "Password? I wasn’t informed about any changes."

"It was a last-minute decision," Jungwon said with an air of authority. "The headmaster’s orders. You know how these things go."

The Fat Lady hummed, clearly hesitant but not suspicious enough to question him further. "All right, then. What’s the new password?"

Jungwon hesitated for the briefest moment before glancing back at Ni-ki, who grinned like the Cheshire Cat and mouthed, Quidditch losers.

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement before he turned back to the Fat Lady, his expression serious. "The new password is... Quidditch glory."

You bit back a snort, realizing Jungwon had changed Ni-ki’s suggestion at the last second to make it less obvious.

The Fat Lady sighed dramatically, as if she had better things to do, and said, "Fine. Password updated. You may enter."

"Thank you," Jungwon said politely, though he made no move to actually enter the common room.

As soon as the portrait swung open, revealing the cozy Gryffindor common room beyond, Jungwon turned to the both of you, a victorious grin spreading across his borrowed face.

"Mission accomplished," he whispered.

"That was way too easy," Ni-ki muttered, his grin matching Jungwon’s.

You crossed your arms, glaring at them both. "You’re absolutely ridiculous. You know that, right?"

"Maybe," Jungwon said with a shrug, still grinning as he gestured for you both to follow him back down the corridor. "But you can’t deny it was brilliant."

While the three of you hurried away from the Gryffindor Tower, you couldn’t help but feel reluctant admiration. They’d actually pulled it off.

--

The three of you had just barely made it to the dungeon when Ni-ki abruptly stopped in his tracks, throwing his arms out dramatically. Unfortunately, you and Jungwon were too close behind him to react in time, and the result was a chaotic collision that sent all three of you toppling to the floor in a heap of limbs and groans.

"Ni-ki, what the hell?!" Jungwon hissed, his voice low but seething as he tried to untangle himself from the mess. "Why did you stop—"

Ni-ki clamped a hand over Jungwon’s mouth, his eyes wide with panic. "Shh!" he whispered harshly, pointing down the corridor.

You followed his gaze and felt your stomach drop. There, standing just ahead, were the Gryffindor prefect and Snape. Talking together.

Oops.

Jungwon immediately shut up, his annoyance replaced by alarm. The three of you scrambled to your feet in a flurry of panic, trying not to make a sound. Without wasting a moment, Ni-ki and Jungwon each grabbed one of your arms and dragged you into the shadows, finding a small alcove to hide in.

Before you could even catch your breath, you were being pressed up against the cold stone wall, Ni-ki and Jungwon on either side of you, their bodies shielding you from view.

"Could you two not squish me?" you muttered under your breath, glaring up at them.

"Would you rather get caught by Snape?" Ni-ki shot back, not taking his eyes off the corridor as he peeked out nervously. "No? Then shut it."

You huffed but stayed quiet, noticing how tense Ni-ki’s shoulders were. He was keeping a sharp eye on Snape and the prefect, ready to make a run for it if needed.

Meanwhile, Jungwon, who was on your other side, was shifting uncomfortably. You glanced up at him and froze when you noticed his face. His features were no longer those of the Gryffindor prefect—they were morphing back into his own, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion clearly wearing off.

Jungwon groaned softly, clutching his stomach as he leaned forward, pressing his face into the crook of your neck for support. You stiffened at the sudden closeness, your hand instinctively patting his back in a futile attempt to comfort him.

"Jungwon," you whispered, worried. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he mumbled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Just... feels weird."

"Ugh, you’re so dramatic," Ni-ki muttered, glancing back at you two briefly before turning his attention back to the corridor. "You’ll be fine in like two seconds. Just don’t throw up on—"

"Ni-ki, shut up," Jungwon snapped, though his voice was muffled against your neck.

You sighed, your free hand still awkwardly patting his back. "This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath.

"I hereby declare that is your everyday quote," Ni-ki quipped with a smirk, though his expression quickly turned serious as he peeked out again. "They’re still there. Snape looks like he’s about to murder someone—wait, no that’s just his normal face expression."

Jungwon groaned again, and you felt him lean more of his weight against you. Curse his height. He wasn’t heavy, but having him this close was flustering you more than you wanted to admit.

"Okay, seriously," you hissed, glaring at Ni-ki, "can we not just stay here forever? Do something!"

"Oh sure," Ni-ki whispered sarcastically, glancing back at you with an incredulous look. "Why don’t I just go up to Snape and ask him how his day was? Brilliant plan."

"Ni-ki, I swear—"

"Guys," Jungwon interrupted, his voice steadier now. He finally pulled back from your neck, his features fully his own again. He stood up straight, though he still looked a little pale. "I think they’re leaving."

All three of you froze, holding your breaths as you listened. Sure enough, the sound of Snape’s low voice and the prefect’s murmured responses grew fainter, followed by the faint echo of footsteps retreating down the corridor.

Ni-ki let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "Finally. I thought we were done for."

Jungwon rubbed his face, still looking a little worse for wear. "That was way too close."

"You think?" you said, glaring at them both. "If we’d been caught, I would’ve been the one blamed, thanks to you two dragging me into this mess."

"Aw, but you love us," Ni-ki said with a cheeky grin, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. "I’m seriously reconsidering that."

Jungwon smirked, finally looking a bit more like himself again. "Come on, let’s get out of here before someone else shows up."

And just as Jungwon finished speaking, the grating, maniacal laughter of Peeves echoed through the corridor. The sound made all three of you freeze, and before you could react, the troublemaking poltergeist popped out of the stone floor with a giggle, his mischievous eyes gleaming.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Peeves crooned, eyeing the three of you with a grin. His voice echoed off the walls, and you couldn't help but feel a slight chill. "My favorite students, looking so cozy together. What’s the occasion?"

You all exchanged a glance, not sure whether to run or stay. Jungwon narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to look unbothered, while Ni-ki rolled his eyes dramatically. "What do you want, Peeves?" he asked, arms crossing over his chest.

Peeves floated around you, his presence more annoying than anything. "Oh, nothing much," he said, his voice high-pitched with glee. "Just wondered if you’ve got any new pranks up your sleeves, eh? Or is it something more... personal going on here?" He wiggled his eyebrows, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

Ni-ki glanced at Jungwon and then shrugged. "We’ll tell you when the time comes," he said, clearly uninterested in revealing too much to the troublesome ghost.

But Peeves wasn't done yet. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he started to circle the three of you like a hawk. "Oh, I see!" he giggled, pointing a bony finger at each of you in turn. "Someone's got tension!" He practically cackled with delight, floating in a circle around you as he grinned widely. "Little love triangle, eh? How exciting! You two," he pointed at Jungwon and Ni-ki, "are practically glued to her, and they can’t get enough of you! Is this the new prank? Get caught up in a web of romantic mischief? Oh, I can’t wait to see how this plays out!"

You groaned, your face burning as both Jungwon and Ni-ki tensed up, eyes widening in response.

Peeves continued to cackle as he floated higher, his laughter echoing down the hall. "I’ll be keeping an eye on you, my favorite troublemakers! I’ll be back for the show!" With a final teasing wink, Peeves disappeared through the stone wall with a loud, echoing "Whee!"

You let out a deep sigh, your embarrassment palpable. Jungwon was rubbing his forehead in frustration, and Ni-ki simply looked amused, though there was a hint of irritation in his eyes.

"I swear, Peeves will be the death of us," Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, despite everything.

And with that, the three of you slipped out of the alcove and hurried back toward the Slytherin common room, your heart still pounding from the close call.

The prank ended exactly how you’d expected—utter chaos.

A horde of Gryffindors had been locked out of their common room for hours, their frustration echoing down the corridors. The Fat Lady was flustered beyond belief, huffing indignantly about how her painting had been “tampered with,” and the Gryffindor prefect was storming through the castle, barking out accusations with a vengeance.

McGonagall’s sharp eyes had swept through the Great Hall during dinner, suspicion evident in her expression as she tried to pinpoint the culprits. Somehow, though, by some miracle, you, Jungwon, and Ni-ki had remained completely unnoticed.

The three of you had kept your heads down and your poker faces on, acting as if you didn’t have a single clue what had happened. You couldn’t believe you’d gotten away with it. Again.

Which is exactly what you were currently discussing as you stood in Zonko’s Joke Shop, watching Jungwon and Ni-ki carefully examine the shelves for their next batch of mischief supplies.

"I still don’t understand how we weren’t caught," you said, leaning casually against the display of dungbombs as you crossed your arms. "McGonagall knew something was up."

"That’s because we’re geniuses," Ni-ki said without looking up from the Extendable Ears he was inspecting. "Obviously."

You snorted. "Right, because geniuses trip over their own feet and nearly get us caught in the process."

"Hey!" Ni-ki turned to you with an exaggerated look of offense. "I saved us. My quick thinking is the only reason we got out of there alive."

"Your quick thinking?" Jungwon interjected, holding up a Puking Pastille for inspection. "I’m pretty sure my plan got us through the whole thing. You just stood there looking like a lost Kneazle."

Ni-ki huffed and turned his attention back to the shelf. "You’re both ungrateful. I should stop sharing my brilliance with you."

"Brilliance, huh?" you teased, smirking as you reached over to nudge him. "That’s what we’re calling it now?"

Ni-ki shot you a mock glare but didn’t move away. In fact, he leaned into you more, resting his elbow lazily on your shoulder as if you were his personal armrest.

You tried to shrug him off. "Ni-ki, get off me. I’m not furniture."

He grinned, leaning his weight on you even more. "But you’re so sturdy and reliable."

"Sturdy and reliable," you repeated flatly. "That’s it. You’re banned from using me as a leaning post."

"You love it," he teased, winking at you.

Meanwhile, Jungwon was completely unbothered, now inspecting a box of Screaming Yo-yos. "You’re letting him get away with that?" he said without looking up.

"I’ve given up," you replied, sighing dramatically.

"You should’ve given up a long time ago," Jungwon said with a chuckle. Then, as if on cue, he reached over and started playing with a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers.

"Seriously?" you muttered, glancing between them.

Jungwon just smirked, not stopping as he held your gaze. "What? I’m bored."

"You two are impossible," you grumbled, though you didn’t actually make any effort to stop either of them. This was normal. It was just how things were.

As you scanned the shelves, you spotted a few products that caught your eye. Grinning mischievously, you a few different materials like a pack of Decoy Detonators.

"That’s what you’re going with?" Ni-ki asked, glancing at your choices.

"At least I’m not taking twenty minutes to pick a single product," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

"Hey, these decisions are important," Jungwon said, tossing the Screaming Yo-yos into his own pile.

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes. "Because you totally need three different kinds of itching powder."

"You’ll thank us later," Ni-ki said confidently.

"Oh, I’m sure," you replied dryly, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"Y/N," Ni-ki called dramatically, spinning toward you with a packet of Nose-Biting Teacups in his hand. "Do you think I should get this? Imagine serving tea to Professor Snape. A little nibble on the nose might do him some good."

You snorted. "Yeah, if you want to end up scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year. I’m not covering for you if you actually go through with that."

"Don’t lie. You’d do it," he said, grinning as he nudged your side with his elbow.

"You’d fold in two seconds if he gave you the look," Jungwon added, smirking as he placed a jar of Self-Inking Quills into his growing pile of products.

"Excuse me," you shot back, crossing your arms. "I’ve never folded. Unlike you two. Don’t think I forgot about the time Snape caught you both in the Potions classroom after hours, and you blamed it on Peeves."

"That was a solid plan," Ni-ki argued, placing a hand on his chest like he was offended.

Jungwon snorted. "It wasn’t a plan at all. You just blurted the first thing that came to your mind."

"And it worked," Ni-ki shot back defensively. "He didn’t question it, did he?"

"That’s because Peeves actually caused a ruckus ten minutes later," you said, shaking your head.

Ni-ki grinned mischievously. "What can I say? I’m lucky like that."

"Lucky, my foot," Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he turned to you. "Be honest—who’s the bigger liability between the two of us?"

You paused, tilting your head as if you were seriously considering the question. "Do I have to pick just one? Because you’re both pretty equally—"

"Oi!" Ni-ki interrupted, poking your arm. "Traitor!"

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying your response. "I knew it. We’re a team of liabilities. Perfect."

"Speak for yourselves," you retorted, pretending to brush off your clothes in mock pride. "I’m the only one who’s remotely responsible here."

"Responsible? You?" Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. "Let’s rewind to the time you accidentally lit a cauldron on fire in Charms class."

"That was one time," you argued, glaring at him. "And it wasn’t my fault! You’re the one who—"

"See?" Jungwon cut in, smirking as he held up a hand to stop you. "The cauldron was calling you a black sheep."

"More like the cauldron was calling me innocent," you quipped back, earning laughs from both of them.

Ni-ki slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning widely. "You’re hilarious when you’re trying to defend yourself, you know that?"

You rolled your eyes but didn’t shrug him off. "And you’re insufferable, but here we are."

"See? That’s why we like you," Jungwon said, giving you a small, playful smile as he tapped your forehead lightly with the end of a Decoy Detonator box.

You narrowed your eyes at him, reaching up to swat his hand away. "I feel so honored. Truly."

The three of you dissolved into laughter again, the teasing bouncing between you like a well-practiced routine.

"Alright, mischief-makers," you said finally, glancing at their overflowing piles of joke products. "Are we done here? Or are you planning to bankrupt yourselves buying the entire shop?"

Ni-ki grinned, holding up a box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. "This? Totally worth going broke for."

"And this," Jungwon added, lifting a set of Decoy Detonators, "is going to make next week very interesting."

You did not doubt it.

That week was very interesting indeed. Not only did Ni-ki and Jungwon set up prank after prank, but they also enlisted Peeves in some of them, which turned everything more chaotic.

One day, they filled the Great Hall with floating soap bubbles that burst into confetti whenever they popped, sending the entire school into fits of laughter (or groans, depending on the person).

However, amidst the chaos, Ni-ki and Jungwon had forgotten a major thing: studying.

By the time they realized it, they were behind on a lot of assignments and homework in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic. The weight of their neglected schoolwork loomed over them, and the urgency to catch up finally hit.

So, what did they do to catch up? Well, they obviously asked you for help! You, who were currently in the library, reading up on Arithmancy.

You were deeply engrossed in your book when you heard footsteps approaching. Glancing up, you saw Ni-ki and Jungwon, looking sheepish and a bit desperate.

“y/n! Our sweet little genius prodigy,” Ni-ki started, sliding into the seat across from you. Jungwon took the seat next to him, both of them looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Yes?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“We need your help,” Jungwon admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re really behind on our assignments. Like, really behind.”

You sighed, closing your book and giving them both a stern look. “You know, if you spent half as much time studying as you do planning pranks, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ni-ki pouted. “But studying isn’t nearly as fun.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “but it’s kind of necessary if you don’t want to fail.”

“We know,” Jungwon said quickly. “That’s why we’re here. You’re the best at all of this stuff, and we need your help to catch up. Please?”

You looked between the two of them, their eyes wide with genuine desperation.

“Alright,” you said finally after a moment, earning relieved smiles from both of them. “I’ll help you. But this means no more pranks for a while. Deal?”

“Deal,” they chorused eagerly.

“Okay then,” you said, pulling out your notes and books. “Let’s get to work.”

For the next several hours, you worked with Ni-ki and Jungwon, helping them catch up on their assignments. You explained concepts, went over notes, and even quizzed them to make sure they understood the material. It was a long process, but by the end of the day, they had made significant progress.

"You’re a miracle worker, honeydrop. We’d probably be in detention without you." Jungwon chuckled, shoving his parchment into his bag.

"Probably?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, definitely," he corrected with a sheepish grin.

"Just don’t expect me to do this every time," you warned, standing up and gathering your things. "Next time, you’re on your own."

Ni-ki threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the library together. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, doll."

You rolled your eyes at the casual nickname, though you didn’t bother shrugging his arm off—it was just his way of being overly familiar. “I’m serious. If I catch you two sneaking off to pull another prank before you’ve finished at least one essay, I’m not helping you anymore.”

“Duly noted,” Ni-ki replied smoothly, though his grin said otherwise. He squeezed your shoulder playfully. “But you have to admit, life would be so boring without us.”

“Boring?” you shot back, looking up at him incredulously. “I’d actually have time to focus on my own work without you two dragging me into whatever chaos you’ve cooked up.”

Jungwon laughed softly from your other side. “Oh, come on. You love it. Admit it. Deep down, you’d miss us if we left you alone for more than a day.”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead giving them a sidelong glance. “Maybe I’d miss the pranks more,” you teased, earning matching gasps of mock offense from both boys.

Ni-ki stopped in his tracks, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the heart, doll.”

Jungwon smirked, tilting his head. “She’s lying. Look at her—she’s smiling. That’s the face of someone who couldn’t survive without us.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at your lips. “If you’re trying to flatter yourselves, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Ni-ki leaned closer, his face just a little too smug. “We don’t need to flatter ourselves, doll. We know we’re your favorite people in the world.”

“Favorite headaches, maybe,” you retorted, shoving his arm off your shoulders. He stumbled back, laughing, while Jungwon gave you an approving nod.

“She’s catching on,” Jungwon said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Soon enough, she’ll be the one dragging us into trouble.”

You snorted. “Not likely. I’ve already got my hands full with you two.”

The next few days were oddly peaceful, given the usual chaos that surrounded Ni-ki and Jungwon. You found yourself spending more time in the library with them, helping them catch up on homework, and surprisingly, they actually stayed focused—most of the time. Though, that didn’t stop them from sneaking in their usual brand of teasing. Because they kept finding ways to distract you. Ni-ki, as usual, was the first to break the silence.

"You're pretty good at this stuff, huh?" he murmured, stretching lazily beside you. His hand casually brushed against your thigh, and he rested his arm there like it was the most normal thing in the world. "How come you're so smart and yet still hang out with us? Makes no sense."

You glanced at him, trying to keep your cool. "I don't mind," you answered, your voice surprisingly steady despite how flustered his touch was making you. "Besides, someone has to keep you two in check."

Jungwon, who had been silently working on his own homework beside you, suddenly lifted his head. His soft exhale brushed against your neck as he settled his face there, huffing dramatically. "Ugh, Herbology is impossible. How do you even remember all these plants and their properties? It’s like a nightmare." He whined, his voice muffled against your skin.

You stiffened at his proximity, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I don't know," you muttered, trying to ignore the way his body pressed against yours. "I just study."

"Yeah, but you’re really good at it," Jungwon murmured, not moving away. He let his lips brush against your neck for a moment, and you could feel your face heat up instantly.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki hadn't missed the opportunity. He leaned even closer, his hand subtly shifting on your thigh as he whispered, "We should study more with you. You make it so fun."

You shot him a warning glance, but he just grinned back, unbothered. "You’re making me sound like a distraction, you know," you said, trying to focus on your notes again, though your concentration was rapidly slipping away.

Jungwon grinned against your neck. "Oh, you are a distraction. But you're a good kind of distraction."

Before you could protest, Ni-ki leaned in closer, resting his head on your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "We’re your favorite chaos, right?" he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

Despite the flurry of butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t help but smile. "You two are definitely something," you said, trying to sound unaffected even as your heart raced. "But I really need to get this done."

You really tried to ignore the two heads resting against your shoulders, but that was an impossible task. Ni-ki’s breath was warm against your skin, and his hand was still resting on your thigh, now with an almost casual possessiveness. Jungwon, on the other hand, was so close his soft exhalations tickled the nape of your neck, and his cheek was pressed lightly against yours as he hummed in contentment.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your work, it was becoming increasingly difficult. The pages in front of you blurred as your heart rate picked up. The library now felt suffocating, and you realized that it wasn’t just the assignment that had your attention—it was the way they were both so close, almost invading your space in a way that made it impossible to concentrate.

"Are you actually going to study?" Ni-ki murmured, his voice low and teasing, but you could hear the undercurrent of something more in it. His fingers shifted slightly, brushing your leg in a way that made you stiffen, but you didn’t pull away. You were almost too aware of how your body reacted to them.

Jungwon, seemingly oblivious to your internal turmoil, nuzzled closer against your neck, his soft, slow breaths doing nothing to help you stay calm. “I think I’m helping you study,” he said in that playful tone of his, making you shiver. “Us being this close will help you focus, right?”

Your pulse quickened at the thought. You hadn’t been aware of the shifting dynamic until now—of how their subtle touches, the way they leaned into you, seemed to be becoming more than just playful teasing. Every little move felt like an invitation for more, and you were quickly losing the battle to stay composed.

"Guys," you said, attempting to sound stern, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "You’re making it impossible to study like this."

They didn’t move. They didn’t even respond with words, but you could feel the weight of their attention on you. Ni-ki’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly, and Jungwon pressed his nose gently against your underjaw, both of them silently daring you to pull away.

But you didn’t. And that was what surprised you the most—how you didn’t mind the closeness, how you didn’t want to push them away.

"Maybe we can help you concentrate in other ways," Ni-ki whispered, his voice lowering with an edge of amusement, and you could feel him grinning against your skin.

You let out a shaky breath, knowing that with them, studying was the last thing you were going to accomplish today.

They were like two koalas clinging to you, making it so hard to think clearly. Every time you shifted, Ni-ki would let out a soft sigh, his fingers grazing your thigh, and Jungwon would press his face more firmly into the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Your handwriting became more erratic as you tried to force yourself to write, but your focus kept drifting back to them, they were distracting in the best and worst way. You tried to shift slightly, attempting to get some space, but instead, they just adjusted and got even closer.

"You’re really not gonna study, are you?" Ni-ki's voice was a low tease, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he looked at your textbook with a mock frown. His fingers tracing little patterns against your thigh.

Jungwon, still in his spot on your neck, let out a small hum of agreement. "I think we’re doing more for your concentration than you give us credit for."

You were about to protest, but then Jungwon shifted slightly, brushing his lips against your ear as he murmured, "You’re so tense. Are we making you nervous?" His voice was soft, but the way he said it made your pulse quicken. You could practically feel the smirk on his lips.

Ni-ki chuckled at your reaction, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You’re cute when you try to act unaffected." His hand squeezed your thigh gently, adding more heat to the already overwhelming situation.

It was getting hard to think, let alone focus on your homework. You couldn’t deny how their touches made your heart race, how the closeness felt different than it ever had before. You were surrounded by them—so close, so intimate in a way that felt almost too personal, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move them off.

Instead, you sighed, giving up on trying to study. "You two are unbelivable," you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words. They were both too close, too comfortable, and the way they looked at you, the way they made you feel, left you unsure if you wanted them to stop.

Ni-ki grinned at your words, his hand moving slowly up your leg. "Good, we’re making progress," he teased, leaning in close. "You needed a break anyway."

Jungwon, now pulling away just enough to meet your gaze, smiled warmly. "We’ll help you out. Maybe not with homework, but definitely with...other things."

As they both made themselves even more comfortable, you were stuck between wanting to push them away and wanting to stay right where you were.

You had no idea what had gotten into them, but you also weren’t quite sure what had gotten into you. They had always been the ones to tease and be touchy, but now, as they both clung to you, you realized you could play along—maybe even enjoy it. Without thinking too much, you let the playful side of you take over.

You moved just slightly, letting your fingers brush against Ni-ki’s arm as you leaned back into him, and before he could respond, you slid your hand down to his wrist, just enough to make him pause. He looked at you, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in dynamics. His usual confident smirk faltered for just a second before he recovered, but you could tell he wasn’t expecting it.

You smiled innocently back, leaning into Jungwon next, letting your fingers trace along his jawline with a teasing touch. His breath hitched ever so slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you saw the flustered warmth creeping up his neck. He leaned into your touch, just like he had done with you so many times before, but now you could feel him melt under your fingertips.

"Guess we’re not the only ones getting touchy, huh?" Ni-ki teased, his voice light, but there was a nervous edge to it now as his breath caught when you moved your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

Jungwon, still resting against you, let out a shaky laugh, but his voice was softer, almost breathless. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

You raised an eyebrow, keeping your hand on his chest for a moment, letting your fingers play with the fabric of his shirt. "You’re the ones who started it," you said, your voice low and playful, but with an underlying challenge in it.

You felt their reactions before you even saw them clearly—the way their breaths became more shallow, the way their eyes widened with surprise and something else.

Ni-ki’s lips parted as you moved your hand lower, and you noticed his usual teasing grin soften into something more real. He didn’t know how to respond to this change in the atmosphere, and for a moment, you reveled in the power of it. Jungwon, too, was a little quieter now, his hand moving to rest on your other thigh, fingers just brushing lightly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to act but didn’t want to pull away either.

They were both flustered, unsure of how to navigate the space you’d suddenly put them in. You could feel them melt under your touch, their usual confidence slipping away with each movement you made. You had the power now, and it was a strange feeling—seeing them both so lost in this little game you were playing.

"Well?" you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back into them. "Aren’t you two gonna study? Or am i too distracting?"

Ni-ki chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual charm faltering just slightly. "Guess we’ve got some competition now."

Jungwon, on the other hand, gave a soft sigh, his face flushed. "I think we might be in over our heads."

You had the upper hand now.

And you took full advantage of it.

After that day in the library, you couldn’t help but notice how completely Jungwon and Ni-ki would fall into your rhythm. They were practically putty in your hands. Every touch, no matter how small, sent them into a flurry of reactions—flushed cheeks, quiet sighs, soft whines when you weren’t paying attention to them. They’d melt at even the smallest gesture from you. Whether it was brushing their arm casually or stealing a glance, it was as if they couldn’t get enough. Every ounce of attention you gave them, they greedily soaked it up, and you relished in that power, in knowing you could make them act this way. Knowing you were the only person that could make them act this way.

They were so used to being the ones in control, but now it seemed they couldn’t stop themselves from doing whatever you wanted. It was almost comical how quickly they fell into line, but also a little thrilling. You were the one holding the strings now, and they seemed perfectly content to follow wherever you led.

And of course, your friends had noticed. You weren't sure how you didn't see it earlier, but Yuna, Hannie, Karina, Yujin, and Leeseo had all caught on. They’d managed to sneak you away from Jungwon and Ni-ki one afternoon, a tactic you recognized as them giving you a moment of peace away from them.

You sat in a quiet corner of the courtyard with them, all of them looking at you with knowing grins, their eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity.

“So,” Yuna began, leaning forward with an exaggerated whisper, “spill. What’s going on between you and those two?”

Hannie smirked, arms crossed, “Yeah, you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s so obvious.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your heart skipped a beat. Were they really so obvious?

Leeseo leaned in, her voice playful. “Come on, don’t pretend. Jungwon and Ni-ki have been practically following you around like lost pets. It’s cute, but we’re curious. What’s going on?”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly. Those two are impossible to keep up with. But somehow, you’ve got them so... docile.”

You let out a breath, finally breaking into a sheepish smile. “It just kind of... happened. They started getting clingy, and I just played along. And now? I don’t know. They’re just... there.”

Yujin grinned, tapping her fingers on the table. “You know, they’ve been doing everything you say. I saw Ni-ki nearly burn his potions notes because you told him to stop distracting you. It’s like watching a puppy trying to be obedient.”

Hannie chuckled. “So, they’re melting under your touch, huh?”

You couldn’t help the blush creeping onto your face as the realization hit you. “Maybe,” you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed, but also a little proud.

“Are you sure it’s just them being clingy?” Yuna asked, her tone teasing. “I mean, they’ve been following you around for years.”

You sighed, looking around at your friends’ grinning faces, knowing you couldn’t get away with playing innocent anymore. “I guess... maybe I do. But it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. They just—"

“They just can’t resist you,” Karina finished for you, smirking. “Come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

It was clear your friends were having way too much fun with this, but honestly, you weren’t sure if you could deny it any longer. You’d noticed how they seemed to change when they were around you. Jungwon would act like he couldn’t wait to do anything you asked, and Ni-ki? He’d become all soft and affectionate, which was unlike him.

“It’s okay, though,” Yujin said, her voice light. “We’re not judging you. We just want to know when you’re finally going to admit it.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Maybe I have a little bit of power over them. But I’m not making a big deal out of it.”

They all laughed, clearly not believing you. You were probably just as entertained as they were by how much you could get away with. But as you looked at the amused faces around you, you also felt a little something stir in your chest. A strange mix of pride and something else.

You were, without a doubt, in control of the situation now. But what you didn’t know was just how much longer that power would last before things got a little... more complicated.

And it did get complicated.

Before, they had been clingy, constantly around you, leaning on you, making their presence known. But now? Now, they were acting possessive. They’d follow you everywhere, make sure they were always by your side, and the glares they shot at any male student who got too close to you? Intense. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore. It was like they were marking their territory without saying a word.

And that’s when it hit you.

All of this? It wasn’t just the usual chaos and fun. They liked you. They had to. No one acts like this unless they do.

But you weren’t sure. Not completely. You needed confirmation. And the best way to confirm a suspicion like this? You’d seen it done before in the most dramatic ways—jealousy. If they were really into you, you were certain they wouldn’t just sit back and let you spend time with someone else. They'd react, and you’d get your answer.

So, with that thought in mind, you decided to test this theory. What better way to do that than to make them confess in a fit of jealousy?

You didn’t want to hurt anyone, of course, but it was the only way to make sure. And you wouldn’t have to do it alone, which is where your two male friends, Jeongin and Jaehyun, came in. You trusted them, and they owed you a favor or two after all the times you’d helped them in the past.

The plan was simple—at least, in theory. You'd spend some time with Jeongin and Jaehyun, just enough to make Jungwon and Ni-ki notice. You knew they’d be watching. They always were, especially since the two of them had started acting this way. And once they did? Well, that would be when the fireworks started.

You carefully explained everything to Jeongin and Jaehyun, who both agreed to help you. They were on board, teasing you about how entertaining it would be to see how Jungwon and Ni-ki would react. Jeongin even joked that he could make them both "lose their minds." You weren’t sure if he was joking or not, but you were counting on him to keep it lighthearted.

The next day, the plan was set into motion. You’d intentionally sit next to Jeongin and Jaehyun in the grandhall, laughing at their jokes and engaging in casual conversation. You knew Jungwon and Ni-ki would be nearby, watching closely, their eyes following your every move. And, sure enough, the second you laughed too loud or shared a casual touch with Jeongin, you saw the shift.

Ni-ki's smirk faltered for a second before he looked away, crossing his arms tightly, his eyes narrowing. Jungwon was no better—his gaze had turned blank, his usually demeanor replaced by something else. The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you had to fight to keep a straight face.

As the evening wore on, the moments between you and Jeongin and Jaehyun became more exaggerated. You laughed louder, leaned closer, and gave Jeongin a playful push when he made a joke. Your heart raced with anticipation.

Sure enough, when you glanced over at Jungwon and Ni-ki, both of them were practically burning holes into you with their eyes. Jungwon was glaring at Jeongin, his jaw clenched, while Ni-ki was burning a hole in the wall in front of him.

The more you pushed, the more you noticed them getting restless. Ni-ki shifted in his seat, throwing a glance at Jungwon as if silently confirming that neither of them was happy with the situation. It was working.

But now, the hardest part—waiting.

You watched as they tried to play it cool, but every time you’d interact with Jeongin or Jaehyun, you could feel their eyes on you, and it became harder to pretend you weren’t aware of how they were watching.

Finally, when they were getting up to leave, Jeongin bumped into Ni-ki, giving him a playful smile and a casual, “Excuse me, mate,” before turning and walking away with Jaehyun.

That was when it all came to a head. You had just turned to leave the Grandhall when you felt two hands grip your wrist, pulling you back.

You turned to find Jungwon standing in front of you, his expression no longer calm. It was frustrated, a little wild, and it was clear he wasn’t happy.

“Did you have to do that?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, like he was trying to keep his cool but was failing miserably.

Ni-ki was right behind him, arms crossed, his eyes flicking from you to Jungwon and back. “Yeah,” he added, his voice tight. “What’s with you and them?”

You swallowed, keeping your composure. “What do you mean?”

“Cut the act,” Jungwon shot back, stepping a little closer, his hands clenched at his sides. “We both know what you’re doing.”

Your heart raced. There it was. You wanted them to say it. You wanted them to admit it, to confess how they felt.

“You two... are acting like children,” you said lightly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the whirlwind in your chest. “You know that, right?”

Ni-ki’s face twitched as he stepped forward. “We’re not the ones acting like that,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t place. “You’re the one making us jealous.”

You smiled to yourself, the satisfaction bubbling up. The tension was finally broken, and now... all you had to do was wait for them to confess.

“Okay, what’s the big problem?” you asked, your voice calm but firm. “Why are you two acting like this?”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They exchanged a quick, sharp glance, almost as if they were having a silent conversation.

Finally, Jungwon let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He glared at the ground for a moment before looking up at you, his usual dimpled smile nowhere to be found.

“We’re not acting like this for no reason,” he started, his voice tense. “You think we’re just jealous for no reason?”

Ni-ki stepped forward then, his eyes searching yours. “We’re jealous,” he muttered, a bit of anger still lingering in his tone. “But it’s not just about Jaehyun, or you hanging out with Jeongin. It’s... you.”

You blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Jungwon shot him a look but then quickly turned back to you, his voice lowering, barely above a whisper. "We like you. We both do. And yeah, it’s frustrating seeing you with other people when we... we’ve been wanting to say something for a while now."

Ni-ki nodded, his usual smirk replaced by a more earnest expression. “We’re... we’re seriously into you, and it’s driving us crazy watching you get close to anyone else.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the realization settling in as you stared at them. It wasn’t just a theory anymore. They really did like you.

“You two... really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your mind racing as everything clicked into place.

Jungwon sighed, a small, frustrated laugh escaping him. "Yeah, really. You’re smart, you’re fun, and you make everything less... boring. But we didn’t know how to say it, okay? We’re not used to this kind of thing."

Ni-ki grinned nervously, his usual confidence returning in small doses. "And I guess we were trying to make you notice. Not the best way, but it worked, didn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a little overwhelmed by the admission. The teasing and the possessiveness—it was all a roundabout way of showing how they felt, even if it was a bit chaotic.

“I... didn’t expect this,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “I thought it was just you guys being, well, you.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "And you didn’t think we could actually be serious? We’ve been serious this whole time, just... not very good at showing it."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension lifting as the realization hit you fully. “So, what now?”

Ni-ki stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours as he looked at you with hope and uncertainty. “Well, we could start by not acting like children, and maybe... go on a real date sometime?”

Jungwon’s eyes softened, as he glanced at Ni-ki and then back at you. "Yeah, what he said. We’d like to take you out, properly. No pranks or anything."

You nodded, your heart racing in a way it hadn’t before. “I think that sounds good.”

--

The next day, you found yourself sitting in the Slytherin common room, the warmth of the fire crackling. The scent of hot chocolate in the air, the creamy drink topped with fluffy marshmallows—just the perfect comfort on a chilly evening. You were nestled between Jungwon and Ni-ki, both of them flanking you with matching sly smirks, looking too cute in their comfy clothes and the trio socks that you all had somehow decided to get together during one of your Hogsmeade visits.

Ni-ki was playfully nudging you, trying to steal the last marshmallow, and Jungwon had his arm casually draped over the back of the couch, but his focus was clearly on you.

“Seriously, you’re hogging the sweets,” Ni-ki teased, leaning in close to you, his breath warm against your cheek. “We should get more—”

“Only if you share them,” Jungwon interrupted, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “I’m not letting you eat them all.”

The two of them went back and forth in their usual playful manner, but this time it felt different. You were caught between them, nestled comfortably in the middle as they leaned closer to you.

Then, as if in sync, they both paused, their teasing grins melting into something softer. Ni-ki’s eyes were unusually warm, and Jungwon’s expression was full of affection.

“You know,” Ni-ki whispered, his voice low but sincere, “we love you.”

Jungwon nodded in agreement, his hand gently brushing against yours as he leaned in. “Yeah. We love you,” he repeated, his voice just above a murmur.

Before you could even respond, they both kissed your cheeks—Ni-ki on one side, Jungwon on the other—and you froze for a moment, the gentle pressure of their lips leaving you breathless.

Your heart raced in your chest, and for a moment, you felt like you were floating. Their love made you feel safe, cherished, and incredibly happy.

You looked between the two of them, a smile tugging at your lips as you met their gazes. “I love you both, too,” you whispered.

You could see the light in both Jungwon and Ni-ki’s eyes flicker with pure happiness at your confession. They were both too stunned for a moment, leaving you the perfect opportunity to tease them.

Smiling mischievously, you shifted slightly so that you were closer to both of them. "Well," you began, resting your chin on Jungwon's shoulder while your hand found Ni-ki’s arm, "I guess that means you're both officially stuck with me now." You smirked, letting the words sink in, and watched as both of their faces softened.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes but grinned, leaning into you. “You make it sound like we’re not already stuck with you,” he teased, but you could feel his breath hitch slightly when you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

Jungwon, who had been staring at you, blinked before leaning in as well. “Yeah, like there’s any way we’d want to get rid of you,” he said with a playful huff.

You took advantage of their playful words and pulled them both into a tight cuddle, which caused them both let out small, surprised noises as you enveloped them in your grip, holding them firmly.

“Now, now,” you teased, “you two are so easy to fold, aren’t you?” You could feel their shoulders relax as they practically molded to your side.

Ni-ki groaned, but there was no real protest in his voice. “You’re too comfy, stop making us weak,” he muttered, and you could practically feel him sinking into your embrace as if he couldn’t escape even if he tried. His body was warm against yours, and you could tell that he didn’t mind at all.

Jungwon’s head tipped slightly back to rest against yours, his face softening. “You’re not gonna let us go, are you?” he asked with a half-smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“Nope,” you answered firmly, enjoying the way their defenses crumbled under your touch. “You two are officially my cuddle buddies. And I think you both secretly love it.”

They both huffed, but there was no denying the way they leaned even further into you, practially melting into the cuddle. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt their breathing slow.

But the peace didn`t last when you suddenly felt a soft breath against your neck. It was Jungwon, his lips barely grazing your skin. Before you could react, Ni-ki’s lips followed suit, brushing against the opposite side of your neck.

A shiver ran through you at the unexpected warmth, and you gasped, your body tensing for just a moment before you settled back into their hold. They both hummed in response, clearly enjoying the effect they were having on you.

Jungwon’s kiss was gentle, his lips lingering a little longer, sending a spark of warmth straight to your chest. Ni-ki, on the other hand, kissed your neck with a more playful edge, his lips trailing soft, teasing touches as he moved closer to you.

“Relax,” Jungwon whispered against your skin, his breath sending a wave of goosebumps across your body. His hand gently brushed your hair back, before his lips returned to the delicate spot just under your ear.

Ni-ki, still clinging to you, pressed his lips closer to your neck, his touch light yet insistent. “You’re making this too easy,” he murmured, his voice full of teasing affection.

You could barely suppress the shiver that ran through you, as you felt their kisses deepen, both of them so close, almost impossibly close.

“Stop,” you gasped between breaths, though you couldn’t bring yourself to push them away. “You’re going to—”

“Going to what?” Ni-ki interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “Make you melt into our arms? Too late for that.”

Jungwon’s laugh was a soft, comforting sound, his lips now trailing further down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in their wake. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his smile against your skin as he pulled you even closer.

Both of them were still so clingy, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed how they both seemed to seek you out.

“You two really know how to make a girl weak,” you muttered with a soft laugh.

“And we’ll keep doing it,” Jungwon replied. “As long as you let us.”

You were completely okay with that.

Just then, from the stone wall, Peeves' head popped out. His grin was even wider this time, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he hovered before the three of you.

"I knew it!" Peeves cackled, his voice echoing through the common room. "I knew you three would end up together! It was just too perfect not to work out! Look at you, all tangled up in each other, the chaos—it’s meant to be!" He floated closer, eyes twinkling with glee as he looked at you, Jungwon, and Ni-ki. "Oh, you can’t fool me. You all make such a lovely little trio!"

You all paused, exchanging a glance. There was no point in arguing with Peeves—he was insufferable but often right in his own ridiculous way. With a collective sigh, you all decided to just humor him.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, sure, Peeves. You figured us out," he said dryly, trying not to let Peeves get the best of him.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his hand holding yours tightly. "Guess you’re not wrong," he said with a teasing grin. "But, really, did you have to show up like this? You're making it harder to pretend we don’t get along."

Peeves just giggled, enjoying every second of this. "Oh, but it’s too much fun to watch! You three are like a puzzle that finally clicked into place. And I knew I'd be the one to see it first!" He floated around you in a circle, his laughter loud and echoing. "Don’t worry, I won’t ruin it for you—yet. But I’ll be watching. Oh yes, I’ll be watching!"

With one final, exaggerated wink, Peeves disappeared back into the stone wall, his laughter still lingering in the air. You sighed and turned back to Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were both looking at you with affectionate smiles.

"Well, that was... something," you said, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Jungwon nodded. "Yeah, but Peeves is right about one thing. We’re not going anywhere."

Ni-ki squeezed your hand. "Not ever."

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