#was writing in motion and had to write these down

[jaysbaefie]

inmate 1697 | psh

synopsis: in which you agree to the jail guards offer for a small fee, you.

genre: prison au

pairing: jail guard!sunghoon x inmate afab! reader

warnings: non/dub-con themes, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey ego hurt!sunghoon, oral (m.rec), hair pulling, face fucking? gagging, manhandling, grinding, slight nipple play, cuffing, choking (kind of), doggy, clit play, rough p in v, slight cum play, panty stealing, lowkey sweet!sunghoon at the end?

wc: 3.1k+

a/n: thank you for all the love on my previous fics. make sure to reblog and like, it’s what keeps me motivated to write! enjoy.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

the clearing of someones throat broke you out of your thoughts. the days had blended in together and you could no longer tell what day of the week it was.

you broke the trance that the scuffed walls had on you, peering away from the scratch marks and smears of what you hope is blood and not fecal matter on the walls.

you tune your attention to the figure standing on the other side of the bars, a prison guard. you roll your eyes, "i haven't been screaming or causing a fuss, it's the cell next to mine. trust me, i know it's loud," you explain dryly . you had been receiving the blame for your next door neighbours antics, with multiple guards coming to your cell to bitch you out.

when you don't receive an answer you scoff, shutting your eyes before leaning back against the hard wall. "how would you like to talk to your little brother, __," the voice boomed. your eyes snapped open at the mention of your brother, immediately sitting up right on your hard bed.

you hadn't seen or talked to your little brother for months, your family didn't allow him. saying that your bad habits would 'rub off' on him and that he'd become like you. you rolled your eyes at their words, you didn't deserve to be behind bars and you did nothing wrong—they knew that. yet, here you are.

"how?" you question lowly, now getting up from your bed to walk up to the front. you hadn't gotten a proper look at the guard until now, originally quickly dismissing him. when you were right in front of him you realized how attractive he was.

typically the prison guards that worked at the facility were old stubby men who often could care less about what was going on. they eyed down female inmates, with many of the women taking advantage of them and using them for commissary.

you almost let out a gasp when you saw his sharp eyes piercing straight into yours, he had thick black hair that covered his brows and plump lips that sat flat on his pale face. he was definitely one of the most attractive men you had ever seen and you were now hyper aware of yourself and your surroundings under his intense gaze.

he smirks at your question, "i'll bring you a phone, i'm sure you have your brothers number," he explains gruffly, his eyes raking your body before he juts his tongue out to swipe over his lips.

you swallow harshly, there was a twist to his strange act of kindness. "what do you want in return?" you ask carefully, narrowing your eyes at him as his smirk widens.

you weren't dumb, you knew he had ulterior motives. "aren't you a smart one, cell mate 1697," he muses, his eyes dropping down to your chest to read the numbers printed on your orange jumper.

you instinctively cover your chest when his gaze lingers a bit to long on the area making him let out an airy laugh. you quirk your eyebrow, "well.." you motion for him to get on with it.

"how about this, cell mate 1697. i bring you your phone, you call your brother. then, i come down after 9pm and you let me use your pretty little throat," he suggests with a grin, his hand gripping one of the cells bars tightly as he stares down at your figure like you were prey.

he was an attractive man, surely he didn't need to be doing this to get off.

you scoff, "use me? no. never." he shrugs in response, "if you want to talk to your little brother, you'll change your mind."

he leans down slightly, "i promise, i'll be quick," he almost purrs.

you thought about it for a moment, you knew what he wanted, thats what every guard wanted in return for a little something. you had heard of stories of many guards wanting more than that, weighing out the pros and cons you came to a decision.

"alright," you began before squinting your eyes to make out the small printed name on the corner of his uniform, "officer park sunghoon, i'll see you tonight."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

he held his part of the bargain, you had gotten a phone a few hours after the meeting. you woke up to something hard under your head, when you lifted yourself from your pillow you noticed the sleek device in the cover of your pillow case.

you gapped at the electronic, it seemed to be a newer model and you wonder why you had received something so nice. you fully expected a flip phone or a shabby one on the brink of death device—not this. that only made you wonder, was there more that he wanted than he let on?

you clenched your thighs together at the thought before quickly dismissing it and fumbling with the phone in your hands. you quickly look around your cell, peering outside of the bars to see if any guards were making rounds. when you deemed the coast to be clear, you tried to unlock the phone—only for it to have a password.

you frowned, this wasn't apart of his plan.

maybe there was more than he let on.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

you awaited for his arrival, it was around 9:30pm when you heard the sound of keys jingling and your cell being unlocked. you didn't dare turn your head, instead you stayed seated and continued to stare mindlessly at the wall in front of you.

anything for my brother.

locking the cell door behind him he stalks up to your figure, looking down at you with his intense gaze. you gripped your bed sheets hard, peering up at him as he takes another step closer—his crotch now in your face.

you swallow roughly, looking down to see his dick strained against his black work pants. your eyes widen when you realize how big he was, a small chuckle snaps you out of your thoughts. before you could look up on your own, you feel his hands make their way into your hair. you let out a small yelp when he yanks on it, causing you to snap your head up.

"you know what i want, __," he rasps, his grip on your hair tightening as he forces your head closer—your face now pressed against his crotch.

you gulp, wincing when he ruts himself against your face—the zipper of his pants scratching your cheek.

"you're going to be a good girl and follow through with your end of the bargain, yeah?" he murmurs lowly as he continues his actions. "you're gonna do what i say to get that password, yeah?"

you nod slightly making him smirk, "good, c'mon take it out."

you begin to reach your hands up to unzip his pants but sunghoon immediately slaps them away, "not with your hands, your mouth."

your breath hitches, your eyes widening at his words. swallowing harshly your teeth bite at his zipper, peering up at him as you pull it down.

sunghoon bites down on his lip, hard, the metallic taste of blood seeping onto his tongue. the sight he was witnessing was worth getting fired for, he'd gone to great lengths to get here after all.

working in an all women prison was easy, he got payed to watch women—with many of them throwing themselves at him. when he first got hired he basked in the attention, but soon after he was disgusted by the inmates behaviours. he was flashed constantly and touched on whenever he got to close.

every time he did rounds many of the inmates would try to seduce him into coming into their cells for a "good time" which he rejected instantly. however, you never spared him a glance—and that hurt his ego.

after asking about you to fellow guards, he had gathered quite a bit of information on you. you kept to yourself, rejected all prison guard advances because "nothing they had to offer was something you needed" and that you were in for manslaughter of your sister.

he made it his mission to find something that he could offer you, digging through your files and searching you up in the system. finally, he found your weak spot—your younger brother.

he discovered that your parents didn't allow you to keep in contact with your brother, and it was something that you talked about often on your in-person visits with family every month. so, he offered you the one thing that he knew you'd have a hard time turning down. in return, he wanted you.

there was something about you that drew him in, maybe it was your looks, your lack in interest in him, or even the fact that you killed your own sister. whatever it was, he wanted you, and when park sunghoon wants something—he gets it.

you struggle to help sunghoon shimmy down his pants, his hand coming down to help you as the clothing drops to the floor. he makes you work for his dick, nuzzling against his crotch to get him out of the slit in his boxers.

sunghoon enjoyed watching you struggle, furthermore, he enjoyed how eager you looked to please him.

finally, his cock sprung out and hit your cheek causing sunghoon to snicker. your eyes widen when you see his uncovered length, surprised that it looked bigger that you originally thought he was.

"well, you just gonna look at it?" he asks, his voice heavy and strained.

immediately, you took him into your mouth. sunghoon lets out a chocked moan, his hips bucking as you try to adjust your mouth to his girthy length. your eyes water when his tip hits the back of your throat, gagging slightly as you swallow around him—driving him crazy. he forms two makeshift pig tails on the top of your head, using them to steer you and control what pace you were going. he almost combusts at the sight of you, your eyes drowning in tears and your mouth full with his cock. he could see a mixture of drool and his cum leaking out from the sides of your mouth, your grip on his thighs getting painful.

"f-fuck, look at you," he grunts, his pace getting faster as he feels his balls tighten. "taking my cock so well in your pretty mouth."

you moan at the praise, the sound vibrating against his length making his eyes roll back in his head. you feel your jaw start to ache and sunghoon forces his dick deeper and deeper into your mouth, your nose touching his pelvic bone as he lets out a series of curses.

you suddenly swallow around him, his length twitching in your mouth as he bucks his hips—chasing his high. "fuck m'gonna cum, o-oh," he lets out a guttural moan as he feels himself reach his high.

"you dirty bitch, you want my cum? yeah? you want your mouth painted with me? hm?" he moans wildly as you desperately nod your head, thighs squeezing together to relieve the pressure between your legs.

you let out a small whine when you feel his cum coat the inside of your mouth. he pulls out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from his dick to your mouth making you flush in embarrassment. you swallow his cum, the taste salty and slightly tangy but manageable.

you feel yourself disassociate for a moment only for sunghoons voice to break you out of your trance, "you did so good for me, __," he praises, his hand leaving your hair as it comes down to softly caress your face.

you hum in response, "the password?" you manage to say, your voice coming out hoarse and strained. you thought that sunghoon just wanted his dick sucked, little did you know he had more in mind for tonight.

he snickers, "i'm not done with you yet," and with that he's hauling you up from your bed and manhandling you to face the other way to press your behind against him.

you gasp at the sudden change, "b-but.." you tried to formulate your displeasure however sunghoon had no interest in hearing your voice. he forced two of his fingers into your mouth, the sudden intrusion causing you to gag. "you were more well behaved when you had my cock stuffed down your throat," he sneered into your ear, his minty breath fanning against your ear making you shiver.

you cried against his fingers, hands coming up to try and remove his digits from your mouth. sunghoon 'tsks' before he's reaching behind him and snapping the cold cuffs against your wrists, securing the restraints tightly behind your back causing you to cry out louder. you struggled against him, "why are you being difficult, 1697? you agreed to this," he says harshly.

you shook your head, or at least tried to, you had only agreed to blow him—nothing else.

"surely you knew better than to trust me when i said i only wanted one thing from you," he snickers, his hand wandering around your figure making you flinch.

his hand reaches for the waistband of your pants, yanking them down harshly along with your panties. "be a doll, step out of them, __." when you shake your head 'no' you hear a loud slap ring through your cell, your eyes widen at the sensation of your butt burning. he had smacked your cheek, now holding it in a bruising grip. "step out of them," he says again as he begins to roughly massage your other cheeks making you writhe.

you shakily step out of your pants, in fear that he'd go for your face next. he smiles against you, reaching down to grab your panties from the pile on the floor.

he raised his eyebrows in shock when he notices how damp the material was, "you like this? don't you, 1697," he laughs. you hated how your body betrayed you, how it showed him that you wanted this.

he quickly removes his fingers from your mouth, replacing it with your soiled underwear. his hands grip your waist as he grinds himself against your bare behind, his cock resting on your lower back.

his hands move under your shirt and up your stomach, reaching your covered chest. he yanks down your bra harshly, causing your tits to spill out. his greedy hands fondle and play with your nipples as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck—inhaling deeply.

"you're so perfect," he murmurs against your skin, sucking on the skin of your neck as he ruts himself against you. you continue to struggle against him, your protests being drowned by the fabric stuffed in your mouth.

you manage to spit your underwear out, "get off of me you sick bastard!" you screech, twisting and turning your body as you attempt to kick him. sunghoon snickers, his hand coming up to grip you by your throat as his grip on your tit becomes punishing.

"you want to play like that? i can play like that," and with that your being bent over your bed, face smushed against your hard mattress with your ass in the air.

"i was going to take care of you, 1697. get you ready for my cock, stretch your pretty cunt out so it could take me with ease. but you just want to be a brat so bad," he tsks as he runs his pointer finger down your slit. you attempt to bitch back but sunghoon pushes you face down into your bed, holding you down as you struggle to breathe.

"guess i'll just have to show you want happens to disobedient little sluts like you," and with that he begins to push his cock into you. his grip on your head falters as he bottoms out, a strangled groan leaving him—your walls fluttering against him.

you let out a cry when you feel him stretch you out completely, clenching around him to try and accommodate his thick cock.

as soon as you stopped clenching around him, he began to pound into you at a punishing pace—his snapping wildly as grips onto your waist.

"f-fuck, you're taking my cock so well in your hungry pussy," he moans, the sound of skin slapping together and your whimpers filling the cell.

sunghoon could combust at the sight alone, your ass jiggled with every thrust he delivered. his grip on your waist was painful, you were sure that the area was going to bruise later on.

his thrusts become brutal as he chases his high, smirking when he feels your walls flutter against him—indicating that you were just as close as he was.

"you gonna cum with me, pretty? gonna cum all over my cock?" he cooed before hes gripping the back of your neck to bring you up so your back is arched and the crown of your head touches his chest.

he grips your throat as he continues to fuck into you, his other hand reaching down to play with your clit as you struggle to keep down your moans.

"answer me," he demands when you don't respond to his question, his grip on your throat getting tighter—your vision getting blurry.

you nod, "y-yes sir, m'gonna cum on your big cock. please let me cum," you cry out, all morals flying out the window as your body shakes—feeling yourself near your high.

sunghoon smirks, "yeah? go on then, cum all over my dick," he spits as he begins to draw firmer circles on your clit. he feels your body twitch against him before your walls grip him tighter, which he didn't think was possible.

you let out a shriek as you feel your high wash over you, sunghoons following soon after. he releases into you with a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as his pace slows down.

"milking me so good, hm? perfect pussy," he murmurs against you, planting small kisses on your head as he rides out his high—making sure to empty himself out into you fully.

he pulls out of you soon after, allowing you to fall onto your bed before he's tucking himself back into his pants. he watches his cum dribble out of your cunt, suppressing a moan that threatened to leave his mouth at the sight. he runs his fingers down your slit, pushing the cum that was falling out of you back into your cunt.

smirking when he sees your fucked out state,  your body still shaking from the orgasm.

he un-cuffs you before he puts your pants back on, fixing your attire as you look at him dazed. he finds your panties on the side, quickly grabbing a hold of them before he's stuffing them into his pocket—a keepsake if you will.

he grabs your blanket and pulls it over you before he's crouching down.

he plants a small kiss on your forehead, "password is 1697," and with that he walks out.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[obeymeluv]

How You Spend the Night Together [Azul, Kalim, Vil]

Not proofread. I stayed up late writing this because I'm off tomorrow. Will proof-read tomorrow. Just wanted to get something out.

Azul had seen paintings of people in love. People being intimate. He'd salvaged unsent notes and journals while hunting for coins in the Coral Sea. He knew the definitions of words like passion and adoration but none of it made sense until he looked at you. You were half asleep, gazing at the aquarium wall built into his Housewarden room.

Taking on the mantle of Housewarden meant embodying the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence and assuming care of the aquarium wall. As much as he believed creatures of the sea should be free, Azul took aquarium cultivation very seriously. The array of creatures and plants in it were depending on him! Much like Jade and his terrariums, Azul's budget was more flexible when it came to the wall. He and Sam had modified it (with Crowley's permission) so he could actually swim around in said wall when he wanted.

Part of the modifications included remote-controlled ambient lights. They were on a dimmer setting tailored to his own sleep schedule. You were bathed in blues, undertones of crystalline teal, and one of his hearts lurched painfully in his chest (he wasn't sure which one). Your eyes seemed to glow against the patchwork of blues, and all it once it hit him.

This is what the painters felt. It was something that could only be painted because words paled in comparison. Sure, things like adoration were close--certainly relevant--but not perfect.

You were, though.

The sheets piled around you reminded him of seafoam. All rumpled and wild twists. He could almost imagined you'd washed up on shore from the sea. Maybe he saved you from the sea itself.

"Are you reverting?!" you snapped up when he registered in the edge of your vision. He was just standing there, not responding! Suddenly you were throwing the top cover and sheets out of the way. Azul heard you fall. "Do I need to get Floyd? Jade? The potion's in your desk, right?"

"No treasure, I'm fine." Azul laughed, crawling onto the bed to stare over the edge at you. You were hopelessly tangled, one leg still swallowed in the silk. He hauled you up awkwardly, grabbing you by the leg and pulling you up with one hand as you relaxed with a heavy sigh. "Just mesmerized. That's all."

He pulled your leg into his lap, picking at folds in the sheets like he was prepping napkin rolls at his mother's restaurant. The heat of your skin was muffled and he relished the random brushes in the quest to set you free. Your skin was soft against his hands. Funny how he was setting you free when he was utterly trapped by you, hm?

Your leg now free, you laid back with him. Azul placed his glasses on the nearby nightstand, turning to face you and slide down into the sheets in one smooth motion. Yeah he had to squint to see, but getting close to your smile was worth it. "Good night, treasure."

You kissed the bridge of his nose and he wrinkled it reflexively. His eyes were an unfair kind of blue. A blue only Corelians could have, you thought. Your bodies moved together unconsciously, caught in a current of longing to be together after an even longer day. Azul snugged into the hand cupping his cheek as his looped around your waist. Come the morning your legs would be tangled together like something unholy but that was okay.

"Goodnight, Azul."

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

Spending the night with Kalim wasn't just as simple as 'get changed, go to bed.' It usually involved helping Jamil tidy up Scarabia after another party. Jamil insisted time and time again that you didn't need to help, that you were a guest, but you famously told him 'then as a guest, I decide to help' and that was that. He secretly appreciated the help and Kalim found himself admiring your unapologetic assistance.

He didn't know how to describe it but you were like Jamil--fluid and natural to everything. You didn't miss a step cleaning up a room, straightening a pillow as you scooped another plate onto your stack and added a napkin to the wad in your other hand. Kalim trailed behind you like an excited puppy, trying to find something you or Jamil hadn't done so he could contribute.

When you're handed everything you could ever want and have the ability to do whatever you can think of, you don't realize how much you don't know. You don't know how much effort goes into things because it just shows up.

He wanted to show you that he could provide financially and physically. Kalim wanted to learn the independence his family was too scared to give him. Jamil let him do small things now and then but it was hard for the long-haired boy to beat down his lifelong training. His current task was splitting the stack of plates with you--he tried to take the whole stack but you refused because you were competent and stubborn--and taking them into the kitchen to be washed. When Jamil determined there were no more knives left in the sudsy water, Kalim was allowed to wash and dry them with you.

It was the most he'd done in a kitchen, he thought. Aside from chasing his siblings in and out of one or stealing snacks before a banquet. You'd more than proved yourself to Jamil by now; he knew it was safe to leave Kalim in your care while he retired for the night.

It's just as well; Kalim has a habit of sending him away when he wants to be alone with you. He tries to give Jamil as much freedom as he can without either of them getting in trouble. Dishes done and kitchen tidied, you gave him permission to get ready for bed.

He's not sure why that filled him with such excitement but it was like the first time every time. Kalim thought it weird a handful of times, when it would hit him like a spelldrive disk, but it didn't bother him.

It was a happy weird. One that would send him blabbing Jamil's ear off about your potential wedding until he was ready to strangle him.

What if every night was like this?!

Another giggle escapes him--you shush him lest he wake his dormmates--as you pull him into his Housewarden room. It's a massive, beautiful room with arching windows that open onto a balcony. The door is heavy and you shut it as quietly as possible. Moonlight illuminates the room, sliding over the desk and luxurious canopy bed until it touches the bathroom.

You change behind the large curtain framing the windows; it's thick enough to give a suggestion of you but not a peek. Kalim curses softly in his language, looking away from you to free his arm from the now-tangled scarf.

That's what happens when he tries to take off too much at one time.

"You look so pretty, qalbi!" Kalim peppers your face with kisses as you meet him in the middle of the room. You giggle, hugging him and swaying.

"You act like you've never seen it before! You bought it!"

It was some kind of fancy nighttime set popular in the Scalding Sands.

"Still pretty." Kalim hums, his head against your shoulder as you walk him to the bathroom. He undoes the ribbon and bejeweled circlet, revealing messy white hair. You slide a headband onto his head as he places the circlet on a velvet pillow. The sink in his Housewarden bathroom is basically big enough to be a counter! Jewelry holders of all shapes and sizes lead to the faucet, the other side framed with hygiene products.

Kalim can do it with his eyes closed and has done it a million times before but he always stretches the moment. He tilts your head this way and that, tickling your chin and cupping just underneath it as he fashions his ribbon into something that will hold your hair and frame your face. It's supposed to keep your hair safe while you sleep. You open some rose-scented toner pads one of his sisters sent, sticking them on his cheeks and forehead. He returns the favor before setting out a bowl and mixing a handful of things his mother gave him.

"It's for your hands." he's mixing and checking, mixing and checking until he's satisfied. He scoops some in his hands, coats his, and grabs yours. This was a new thing but it very appreciated! He's massaging your hands and you're melting in his. You're very close to sleeping standing up when he turns the water on and washes your hands for you.

You blink awake as he's picking the toner pads off your face. "To bed, hayati, to bed." he takes your super-soft hand and you climb into the bed together. You feel yourself dissolving into the piles of plush pillows, your last conscious thought is Kalim pressing tight against you and being deathly still as Jamil starts to open the door and check on you.

----- ------

An evening with Vil was scheduled but relaxed. It was a result of growing up in auditions and networking. "There's always time for something," he liked to say, "And it's whatever you choose to make time for."

You catch yourself staring at him like the lovesick fool you are, not because he's THE Vil Schoenheit, but because he's made time in his schedule for you. At this point in the evening, Pomfiore has finished dinner and their post-meal stretches. He's done his rounds as Housewarden and checked on his dormmates. Everyone has retired to their rooms for the evening, pursuing whatever their hearts desire.

He leads by example, as a good Housewarden does. His little desire is at the edge of the bed making smoochy eyes at him.

Well...you looked at him like you loved him and that was fine, too. He'd be okay if you actually wanted to give him smoochy eyes. You would if he could be as reckless and free as Rook encouraged. It was a near-daily conversation you weren't aware of. Vil was confident on runway, the stage, and the screen but he couldn't bring himself to kiss you spontaneously or bury you under a mountain of love notes even though it was a constant thought.

He was just too regimented for that. Romance is supposed to be planned and grand, not hasty and rash! The idea of sweeping you into a crushing hug or swatching his lipstick collection all over your face behind a locked door was extremely tempting. He's just at a delicate spot with his career and can't afford to be passionate and free; it may lose deals and get you a lot of unwanted attention.

Vil looks at you over the edge of Perfectly Wicked Potions and Poisons, grinning to himself. His eyes crinkle at the corner and he can't even bring himself to fret. You just inspire that much joy in him. Future crow's feet are a small price to pay for these little moments where he doesn't have to worry about agents, managers, or devout fans.

Like Rook, your presence soothes him. He delights in having you nearby.

"What are you doing, Potato?" Vil tries to focus on the words in front of him but it's not working.

"Just looking at my boyfriend being all relaxed."

It's such a simple answer but there's no crazed-fan gloating in it. It's genuinely touching.

"Relaxed but lacking," he laments, book tilted towards his still-painted lips but careful not to touch. "I'm in need of my Potato."

You giggle, squishing yourself into the padded armchair with him. He laughs, cradling you with one arm as you slide your feet under the other to hang off the chair. The armchair is deep enough that it works. Your back is supported by his arm and the chair, he gets to put his chin on top of your head. Vil plants his elbow gently into your thigh, bringing the book back up to his face. Comforted by warmth and weight, he makes it through a few pages until you knit yourself ever closer and reach behind him to remove the ornate hairclip.

He'd forgotten it was in there, honestly, and it feels good to have his hair down. Vil hums, book threatening to slide out of his hand as you work his scalp gently with one hand. His violet eyes slide shut, head tilting back. "I didn't see anything about wicked potatoes in my book but wicked you are, my darling." Vil murmurs.

"Want me to stop?"

"In the chair? Reluctantly. In the bed? No." Vil summons the energy to put the book down, breezing over to the bed with you in his arms. He taps you on the nose with a painted nail, smirking at you as he disappears to hang his Housewarden outfit up. You close your eyes as he changes, only opening them when he's at the bedside pinching your shoulder gently. It starts a small trade-off of shoulder massages.

His alarm goes off about twenty minutes later. You follow him to the attached bathroom, brushing your teeth as he washes his face. Vil puts undereye patches on the two of you. He relaxes into the bed like he's boneless, content that he's done everything on his schedule for the day.

He's rewarded with completionist's satisfaction. He'd also liked to be rewarded with more hair-playing. Cheeks blooming pink, Vil nudges his head towards you. Half asleep now, you bring your hand up to massage his scalp. "Goodnight, Vil."

"Goodnight, Potato."

[writeriguess]

Can you please write Bakugo x Short Reader, who always has trouble reaching tall shelves and stuff like that, he always finds it very cute and has to make himself not to show a smile when she requires his help. Maybe sometimes he just picks her up to help her reach stuff and always teases her about it. Thank you!

Just Ask, Shorty

It happened again.

You stood in front of the kitchen cabinet, glaring at the top shelf like it had personally offended you. Your fingers stretched as far as they could, the tips just barely grazing the edge of the cereal box you wanted. You refused to get the stool. That thing only reminded you of your constant struggle against gravity, and you weren’t about to let an inanimate object win today.

With a deep breath, you prepared to jump—only to freeze when a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“You look like a damn idiot.”

Your shoulders stiffened, and you turned your head just enough to see Bakugo leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, definitely trying not to smirk.

“Shut up, Katsuki,” you huffed, returning your focus to the shelf. “I got this.”

Bakugo made a low sound in his throat—something between an amused scoff and a chuckle. He knew damn well you didn’t ‘got this.’ And, honestly, he found it absolutely adorable watching you struggle, even if he’d rather die than admit it out loud.

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, pushing off the wall. “Move.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you stubbornly hopped, fingertips brushing the box just enough to nudge it further away.

“…You’re doin’ this on purpose, aren’t ya?”

“No!”

He rolled his eyes before stepping up behind you. Before you could protest, his hands gripped your waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted you up like you weighed nothing.

“K-Katsuki!” you squeaked, flailing slightly as he held you effortlessly.

“What?” he snorted. “You wanted the damn cereal, didn’t ya? Hurry up before I drop your ass.”

You grumbled under your breath but grabbed the box, feeling your face heat up. The worst part? This wasn’t the first time he’d done this. If anything, it was becoming a regular occurrence. And he always took the opportunity to tease you about it.

Once he set you down, you spun to face him with a glare, only to find his usual scowl in place—but his eyes held something softer, something amused. You knew he was holding back a smirk.

“I hate you,” you muttered.

“Pfft, yeah right,” he scoffed, ruffling your hair before walking off. “Just admit you like bein’ picked up, short stack.”

You grabbed a kitchen towel and threw it at him. He dodged without even looking back, laughing as he disappeared into the living room.

…Yeah. You were never going to win against him.

[maskedcrawford]

Green Eyed Monster

G-Dragon x Reader x platonic! Jackson Wang

Summary: You and Jackson Wang get close through work and your ex isn't too keen on the fact that it looks like you've moved on.

Warnings: Some angst, fluff at the end.

A/N: Thank you to anon who requested, I got to try my hand at writing for Jackson Wang and I'm going to OPEN requests for him if you guys want something. Leave a like and/or a reblog if you enjoy! Much love <3

Requests are OPEN

You’re sitting in the makeup chair when you feel a pair of hands delicately touch your shoulders. You look up from your phone in the mirror and you see his big dark eyes and light brown hair in the mirror.

“Well, it took ya long enough, J,” you say with a teasing smile as you get up and hug him. You and Jackson Wang had been working together for the last 4 months on a song for your album and today you were shooting the video.

“Always a pleasure,” he says genuinely and returns your hug. Were you and Jackson together? No. Were there rumors about such things? Absolutely. The song being about love didn’t help matters. You guys had known each other briefly through mutual friends but when you had the idea for the song, you knew his vocals would take it to the next level.

“Jackson, Y/N!” the director shouts and you two spring into action with the video. The video itself was pretty intimate; the two of you on a bed tangled together in the sheets, touching, be all close and having no sense of personal space whatsoever. But, Jackson is a professional.

“So if I put my hand here,” he’s talking to the director and looks at you and you give him a nod before he touches your hip.

“And then I can slide it up like this,” he does the motion and pulls you closer to him.

“Yeah, that’ll work perfectly,” your director says and you roll with it.

“Let’s move on to the kiss,” the director announces after that scene. You blush as the time comes for the practical make out session that’s needed for the scene. Jackson was obviously cute, and him so being so respectful and kind? That only made it worse.

You can’t help the nervous laugh as you two are placed together and he starts smiling at you.

“You ok?” he asks genuinely, “We can figure something else out if we need to, find another way to,” you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m fine, seriously. Just don’t eat my face,” you wink at him with a chuckle. He gives you a gorgeous smile while shaking his head.

“Might be hard, you’re lookin extra good in that outfit,” he subtly looks you up and down. You two had a flirty relationship, but both of you knew it wouldn’t really go anywhere. The scene commences and you lock lips passionately and for a brief moment you forget its for a music video, that is until you hear the director call cut and you both slowly separate, a slight blush on both of your cheeks.

“That was great, guys. We’ll pick it up tomorrow!”

The video is done after a few days and the album dropped four months later. Your adventures continue with a world tour together, but tonight you were performing at the infamous MAMA awards. Since you two were doing a love song it was known that you would have to kiss for the sake of the performance.

“Look, people love us together,” you smile as you show him a picture you posted with a bunch of likes. He smiles as he clicks on the comments.

“This isn’t helping the dating rumors ya know,” he winks at you playfully and you roll your eyes.

“Us kissing every night doesn’t either, not to mention neither one of us have confirmed or denied anything. Besides, who we go out with really isn’t their business.”

“Ever since you made headlines with G-Dragon though, they think it is,” he corrects you.  You raise your eyebrows with a sigh that confirms he isn’t wrong.

You and Jiyong had been together 4 years, until the beginning of this year. Schedules got in the way, and Ji had admitted to kissing another woman at a party when he was drunk. It was a one-time thing and for a while you were able to move past it, but eventually, everything came crashing down.

“How could you still not trust me?” he shouted. You were in tears, your nerves were shot and honestly you didn’t want to have the argument.

“You were all over her, Ji. Tell me I’m lying! You kissed another woman before, it’s not like you couldn’t do that and more,” your voice was bitter and weak from tears.

“Oh my god, are you ever going to let it go?” he looked annoyed, he looked weak and desperate to escape the mistake that played through your mind more than you cared to admit. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself practically. But who was he to tell you how long it took to heal? Who was he to say that he atoned for what he did just because of a few ways he tried to make it up to you. Girls were constantly all over him so it wasn’t like he was in short supply. It had caused you to feel insecure, regardless of whether or not he was drunk.

The two of you stayed silent, deafeningly silent, until Ji finally sighs and rubs his temple with his fingers.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbles, “I can’t keep paying for this when I think I’ve proven I’m not that person,” his eyes are cold, depleted of life. It broke him to do this, but he didn’t see any other way.

“We’re done,” he said before walking out of your house with nothing more than a kiss to the forehead.

“Earth to Y/N,” Jackson calls out and you shake your head pulling yourself out of the intense flashback.

“Huh, oh, sorry,” you sheepishly rub the back of your neck.

“Let’s practice one more time,” he takes your hand helping you stand up.

“Ji, have you seen this?” Taeyang was over at his house and pulled up the love song you and Jackson put out.

“Hmm?” he glances away from his phone and furrows his brows at the video. He see’s the two of you kiss on screen and he feels, that pang of jealousy. He’s seen the video before, he seen it the day it came out, actually. But he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to think of it.

He hadn’t seen you since that night, not in person anyway. On TV shows and award ceremonies, he would watch, quietly support you and your career, even liking the first picture or two you posted of you and Jackson.

“They are performing tonight at the MAMA awards, so you’ll probably get to see her,” Taeyang calls out as he heads to the kitchen.

“She’s going to be there?” His voice is rushed, excited almost.

“Yup, we better go too, we’ll be late.”

You and Jackson are at the venue preparing for the show, hitting the choreography perfectly multiple times.

“OK, we gotta get dressed,” you say as you two come out of each other’s embrace

“We got this in the bag,” you both high five and he brings you in for a hug.

“You should really layer a little more deodorant,” you say with a giggle. He sniffs his shirt and makes a twisted face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs as he jogs off stage. As you walk off to go to the dressing room you stop as your breath hitches in your throat.

Ji-yong laughs as he feels someone stop and stare, he looks away from his manager and he spots you. His smile fades as he takes in your shocked face.

It’s still as beautiful as the first day he met you. He gives you a small wave and smile and you can’t move. His gaze is friendly and lingers for a moment. He starts to walk towards you, until he see’s Jackson come up behind you with his hand resting on your back. You look up at him directly and he can see the smile on your face when you look at him.

He feels the aching jealousy well up inside him but he pushes it down. You nod your head at something he says, and Jackson flits his gaze to Ji before giving a pursed lip smile and dragging you off with him in another direction.

“What could she possibly see in him?” Ji yong asks out loud not really expecting an answer.

“Hyung, did you really think she wouldn’t,” Ji-yong shoots Taeyang a glare, “Move on?” he finishes carefully.

“It’s been 8 months,” he tries to be gentle with Ji’s feelings, but the sting is too much. Jackson Wang was in a place he was supposed to be in. One he’d still be in most likely if he hadn’t of screwed up.

“Still fucking stings,” he grumbles. Taeyang sighs and gives his friend a hug.

“You both,” he pulls back and looks his friend in the face, “Need to move on. It’s time.” He tries to encourage him, tries to show him it’s healthy to move on, but the way Ji-yong loved you, despite his mistake, he was sure he’d never love anyone the same way.

“It’s not that easy, hyung.” He sighs as he sits down for the stylist to do his hair.

“She was everything, my muse, my rock, my reason for breathing. There were days I only got out of bed because I knew I would see her and that it would help make my day better,” he remembers fond memories as he talks to Taeyang about you. One of you and him riding the ferries wheel and getting stuck on top, that’s where your fist kiss was. When you accidently spilled ice cream on your top and he gave you jacket to cover it. When you’d both grow bored at parties after a little while and want to leave to just spend quiet time at home. He missed the way your touch made him feel like everything would work out, the way you made him feel like he was enough for exactly who he was. He sighs as he finishes getting ready for the show.

“Ok, are you ready for this?” Jackson asks you with anticipation.

“Absolutely, just don’t kiss me with tongue tonight,” you swat his arm and he laughs.

“No promises,” he winks and kisses your temple. You both get into position and the song starts as the lights go up. You follow the normal dance routine, spinning and swaying your hips to the beat, and kissing at the end of the song.

As the song is performed Ji can’t help but watch from the side of the stage, the way your body moves so gracefully and how it fits to Jackson’s so well when he had to wrap his arms around you, but it wasn’t the perfect way it fit Ji-yong’s. No, your body wouldn’t fit to anyone else’s the way it did his. He noticed the happy smile on your face, only noticing it falter when your eyes locked as you look his way.

The song ends and the lights go back down. You and him rush off stage and as soon as you are out of view you jump into his arms, adrenaline running high. He catches you with a huge smile on his face and he kisses your cheek sweetly. Ji-yong watches just off to the side and he rolls his eyes. He walks past you and you catch him out of the corner of your eye, his face deadpan.

You stay to the side of the stage to watch him perform. As he looks off to the side, he catches you watching, swaying your body to the music and nodding your head. He gives a half smile your way and you return one. His performance ends and he runs off stage he takes his mic off and before he can run to you, Jackson once again is in the place he wants to be, by your side.

“So, I was thinking, we could go down to the club and celebrate,” Jackson’s excited nature was infectious.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you glance at Ji-yong who’s giving you a glare again and you furrow your brows at him.

“We’ll leave in a few, get changed!” He runs off to get his stuff together and you go to walk off, but before you can you feel a hand around your wrist pulling you back. You look back and see it’s Ji-yong who has an unreadable expression on his face. You look at each other for a moment.

“I really need to talk to you,” he pleads.

“I,” you look in the direction Jackson went and back at Ji who looks slightly hopeful you’ll stay.

“I can’t,” you say tearing your arm away. He lets you go and for a moment lets you walk away before following you.

“Y/n,” he catches the door to your room. You look over at him, he still takes your breath away, the way his hair clings to his forehead from the sweat, the way he looks at you with his dark eyes, the way his clothes somewhat soaked with sweat cling to his body.

“What, Ji? I have somewhere to be, Jackson isn’t going to wait on me forever,” he scoffs and looks off to the side, mumbling something to himself.

“You want to share with the rest of the class,” you sass him.

“Not really,” he sasses back. You roll your eyes.

“I’m changing so at least shut the door. He walks in and shuts it.

“I meant with you on the other side of it,” you shoot him a glare of annoyance.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen, held or tasted before,” he smirks and you roll your eyes with a sharp exhale.

“Whatever,” you pull your top off your head and his eyes go directly to your body, not in a sensual, sexual way, but in a way that he’s curious. He notices you’ve put on a just little weight in the last 8 months and you instinctively wrap your arms around your torso.

“Can you not, stare,” you pause looking away from him, “at me,” you hear his footsteps come closer and he lifts your chin with his thumb and index finger.

“You’re beautiful,” he slowly reaches for your arms to pull them away and he’s inches from your face.

“Ji-yong,” you put a hand on his chest pushing him back slightly. His eyes flash with hurt before he recovers.

“Be honest with me,” he says standing back further as you find a different shirt. While you’re slipping it over your head you hear him ask, “Does he touch you better than I did?”

“What? Who?!” You all but shriek.

“Your little fling,” he motions his hand as you pull the shirt over your head you take off your pants next and put on some comfortable leggings.

“What ‘fling’,” you ask bewildered by his audacity. He rolls his eyes, saying his name makes him feel ill.

“Your little affair with Jackson Wang, y/n, I know about it, and so does the rest of the world, besides with the way you were sucking face out there, you don’t try to hide it.” You can see his jealousy and you quirk a brow at him. You decide to have a little fun at his expense. After all if he’s going to be nosy and a jerk at the same time, why not have a little fun.

“What Jackson and I are, or aren’t,” you pause and stare at him directly into his eyes, “doing is none of your concern. You left me, Ji, who I’m with now is none of your business.” You strap on a pair of sandals and walk out the door leaving him standing there.

“Jackson,” you call out and race to him. You can feel Ji-yong watching you so you slip your hand in Jackson’s as you walk off.

At the club the music is loud and the drinks are good, but you start to let your mind wonder back to your ex-boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about,” Jackson yells over the music as he see’s you staring into space.

“Ji-yong,” you huff.

“He nods his head understandably. He heard about all of it, multiple times, and he knew you still loved him.

“You wanna dance?” His offer is intriguing and you decide it’s better than sitting there thinking of the guy who broke up with you. As you and Jackson dance you happen to look over your shoulder and see that face that makes your knees weak.

“Holy shit,” you yell and Jackson notices your body tense as he looks at you concerned.

“What?” you point to Ji-yong as the answer to his question.

“Go talk to him.” He tries to push you forward.

“No, he was a dick.” You pout. He nods and walks over to Ji-yong for you. You watch as he gets closer, and even buys your ex a drink.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but me and your girl,” you see him gesture to you, “We ain’t together.” He throws back a shot and so does Ji.

“She isn’t ‘my girl’,” he corrects solemnly.

“Could’ve fooled me. She talks about you constantly,” he chuckles and Ji-yong quirks his brow. Jackson knew you’d either thank him or kill him for this, but he wasn’t worried about that right now.

“She does?” he looks over to you, seeing you dance alone.

“Oh yeah, how bad she misses you, wishes things would’ve been different.” He nods his head and looks down at the bar.

“So what’s with the rumors and the kiss and,” Jackson nods interrupting him.

“We did the song together and just became close friends. As far as the kiss, management thought it’d be good for the song if we kissed like in the video. We’re completely platonic though.” He downs another shot, Ji-yong decides not to, he wants his head clear when talks to you.

“Go get her, man,” he encourages and Ji-yong nods his head as he makes his way to you. He slides in behind you while you dance and the intimate smell of cologne and cigarettes wafts to your nostrils. You feel his hand on your hips as he moves with you.

“Can we talk,” he asks in your ear and you just keep dancing, ignoring his words but not his touch, you bring his hands around your torso so he encapsulates you.

“Jagiya,” his voice is soft, sultry even, and once the music ends you sigh and turn to face him.

“Can I please talk to you,” you see Jackson at the bar smirking at you. You give him a half smile as you find an area in the club away from all the people.

“What is it,” you don’t know how else to ask.

“I miss you,” he’s straight to the point and you didn’t expect that.

“Ji,” you sigh.

“Look, I wasn’t planning on telling you, but I seen you with him tonight and I hated it. He had you the way I should, the way I did.” He steps closer to you; you back up hitting the wall. He closes the space, your mouths just inches apart. He’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, smells, and just the feeling of his body near yours is electric.

“He kissed you the way I did, the way I still want to,” he mumbles as he caresses your cheek.

“Not really,” you utter barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” he asks like he doesn’t understand.

“He didn’t,” you look into his dark, beautiful eyes, “kiss me the way you did. It wasn’t the same passion or love. It wasn’t the same feeling I got with you.” You feel your cheeks blush as you confess to him.

“His touch,” you runs your hands over his arms that are locked onto your hips now,“Isn’t the same. Its not as electrifying.” You look at him through your lashes.

He looks relieved.

“So, you really aren’t with him?” you shake your head no.

You bring your forehead to his and whisper to him, “I’m not with anyone, I’m yours Ji-yong, I always have been,” and before any other words can be said his lips are on yours, smoothly moving in sync and he pulls your impossibly closer as you fist his shirt.

“Aegiya,” he practically whimpers when you separate.

“I need you to come home.” You smile at his confession.

“Promise me something,” you say cautiously.

“Anything,” his desperate eyes search yours.

“You’ll give us time to rebuild trust and be patient with me,” you’re asking more than telling.

“As long as you want to trust me again, I’ll prove you can.” He smiles.

“Then lets get out of here,” you grin as he takes your hand and leads you out of the club.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

[munsonsmixtapes]

hi! i have a jayvik prompt for your consideration, with jayvik finding it difficult to concentrate in the lab while you are there, and keep making mistakes because of it. can be as spicy or sfw as you like ofc

This is the first fic I've written about Arcane so please be gentle with me!

cw: allusions to smut

You know how difficult it is for Jayce and Viktor to focus when you’re in the lab. You only end up there because you love to hang out with them and maybe you’re trying to get them to admit that they’re interested in you. You’ve been conducting an experiment of your own, to see how long it will take them to finally make their feelings known, but it seems that wearing low-cut tops and short skirts had only just made them drool instead of making a move. 

Viktor at least compliments you while Jayce just gets flustered when you get close. His cheeks turning bright pink as you shamelessly flirt with him as you back him up to the desk. You love making pretty men stutter. He wants you so bad, always staring at your lips when you talk to him. It’s pathetic but he doesn’t care. You actually find it to be adorable.

Viktor is very upfront about his feelings, though, making it very clear that he wants you. He’ll lean on you when he doesn’t feel like using his cane and he loves that you will hold onto him, letting him lean his head on your shoulder. 

And while Jayce does feel a little jealous, seeing you together ultimately just sends him into a bi panic. He loves watching the way your hand slides up and down Viktor’s back as he writes on the chalkboard and the way you’ll help Viktor sit on the desk when he gets tired then stand between his legs as he pulls you into his arms. How can he even be upset when the two of you look so good together? 

Today, though, you’re sitting on Jayce’s desk when he comes into the lab, kicking your legs back and forth as you eat the sandwich he had left there for you this morning. Your face lights up when you see him, finishing your last bite as you motion for him to come closer, holding your arms. 

“Hey, handsome,” you greet as your arms wrap around his shoulders, his wrapping around your waist, his face burying into your neck just like always. This is his favorite moment of every day that he sees you, he thinks, being wrapped up in your touch as you hold him for however long he wants. 

This is going to be a long hug. He’s been struggling with one of his Hextech inventions and just needs your reassurance to be able to fix it. You’re always so encouraging and he feels like he needs that to today. 

Once he reluctantly pulls away, he sits in his chair, having to turn away because he can see up your skirt and he knows that he shouldn’t be looking. He just turns every so slightly, picking up his screwdriver to work on one of the weapons he’s created, trying his hardest to not think about how badly he wants to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you’re crying his name. 

Viktor can’t focus either having dropped his pencil more times than he can count as he’s been trying to work on a sketch of one of the newer projects. You just look so beautiful and he can’t focus, his eyes staying on your lips as you flirt with Jayce, leaning over ever so slightly, giving him the perfect view of your cleavage that he stares at for a few seconds before snapping out of it. 

It’s getting sad, you think, so you’ve finally got to do something about this whole thing, finally make a move on both of them. You love the longing looks, but this is just getting pathetic at this point. So you turn Jayce to face you and hold his face gently in your hands, pressing your lips to his. He gasps into your mouth but quickly melts into you, pliant under your touch, willing to let you do whatever you want to him. He’s putty in your hands. 

Viktor is becoming concerned with how much he’s enjoying watching the two of you kiss, concerned with the fact that he’s getting hard. He’s always been attracted to the two of you separately, but seeing you together is making him want you even more, desperately wishing he could be part of it.

Your hands slide into his hair and he’s moaning into your mouth as his hands slide up your thighs as your place a foot on each side of his chair. He’s trying to pull you into his lap when you pull away, watching his eyes fill with lust. He lets out a whine as you hop off the desk and you just shake your head at him. 

“There’s no need to be greedy, baby,” you tsk. “Viktor needs a turn.”

Viktor turns around fully and his eyes widen as you lean down over him, kissing him more hungrily than you had kissed Jayce and he’s eating it up, whining as your tongue slides into his mouth, roaming around as you put something in between his shirt and vest. You give it a pat then pull away, smiling down at him, seeing his parted lips as he stares up at you, his eyes filling with lust just like Jayce’s. 

You motion for both of them to come closer with your pointer finger and they’re quick to stand, Viktor moving slower as he has to reach his cane. You’re moving to the door and they’re both following you like lost puppies, desperate for more of whatever you just gave them. 

“Viktor has a key to my apartment where I’ll be waiting for the two of you after you’re done here. I think we all could have some fun together considering the chemistry we all have. If you don’t come, I completely understand, but I’d really like for you too.”

“I’ll be there,” they both say in unison, so quickly that you barely understand them, but your face lights up at their agreement. 

“Perfect!” You respond then press kisses to each of their mouths before fleeing the lab, leaving Jayce and Viktor, neither of them wanting to discuss the fact that this is going to turn their friendship into something vastly different and it will never be the same. Neither of them care, though, looking forward to spending the night with you and each other, counting down the hours until they’re done with their work.

[acynicalsweetheart]

HIII i love ur writing so much !!! if your requests are open (and if they arent, feel free to delete this ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა) may i request curly x fem reader who’s jimmy’s girlfriend, but like curly is head over heeellss for her?

if thats not your style, no worries! you can delete my request for any reason, but thank you so much if you write this!! >_< 😭💗

hai thanku very much anon ♡… sawry it took forever. this is awful omg i had no idea. what direction i wanted to take this in LOL. but here’s your head over HEELS sorry had to… anyway first non dead dove drabble yay

content warning: 18+, infidelity

“Curly, stooppp!” You draw between giggles, playfully slapping his awfully muscular yet plush arm. The kind of plush that makes you want to bite a chunk out of it. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Curly flashes you his blindingly white Hollywood smile, fingers tickling your side for the eleventh time in the past five minutes. 

Jimmy glares at Curly. Then at you. His gaze burns holes into your skull like it’s made of lasers. 

You blow a kiss to the scowling face across the couch. 

Frown deepening further than you’ve ever seen before, Jimmy pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.” 

“Okay, babe,” you speak to Jimmy’s back as he’s leaving the room, returning your attention to Curly to get your revenge by attacking his side for a change. 

His couch squeaks when he squirms away, chuckling and grabbing your wrists. Craning his neck, Curly chimes to the doorway. “Hey, get one for me too!” 

A groan can be heard all the way from the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Curly’s face brightens like he has a revelation, letting go of you to briefly search his pockets to pull out a small velvet box. It looks comically miniature in his hand when he holds it out. “I got this for you.”

“What’s that?” You ask confused and curious, ‘cause it very much looks like he might just propose to you. 

It opens sesame. 

“An anklet.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, thank God. Jimmy would’ve fucking shot Curly if it was a ring. 

“Here, let me…” Curly reaches for your feet, careful in the way he peels off your socks and it’s all oddly romantic. So romantic there’s a slight heartbeat beneath your panties. 

Jimmy would never do that for you and that’s why it’s so wrong. 

“There,” he closes the clasp after a good two minute fumble, adorning your ankle with gold that costs more than your boyfriend’s entire net worth. 

“Oh,” it’s so shiny you can’t help but to blink at it, “wow. You… could’ve just gotten me a bracelet or something, Curly, I mean—“

“I could’ve,” his gentle up-and-down caresses to your calves pause, quickly adding, “but who would’ve gotten you this?”

You both know the answer to that question. 

“It’s not that I—“ 

“Hey, next time, I’ll get you that bracelet.” He pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen as his fingers move. 

“It’s fine, Curly,” you tell him—not wanting to seem ungrateful, “this is more than enough.”

But he’s already typing in his credit card information on the Tiffany & Co website when you look over his shoulder. 

What are you supposed to do? Smack the phone out of his hold? It feels… nice to be appreciated. Jimmy’s never bought you anything—you’re the one buying shit for him. Including his black market drugs. 

“Jim’s not coming,” you note after a long moment of awkward silence, poking your head forward like he’s coming through the doorway any second. 

“I guess not.” Curly says, meeting your eye once you look back at him. 

Almost kind of scary, the tenderness in his gaze. Not like Jimmy’s wolfish one that says he wants to eat you alive. In the cannibal way. 

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Me?” You can’t help but to laugh out loud, it’s so sudden, and Jimmy’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t even think that. “No… no I—“

“You are!” Curly insists, making a motion with his hands towards you. “Doesn’t he tell you that? Doesn’t he…” he pauses again, voice lowering, “show you that?”

“Show me?” 

“Like this,” he leans in closer, like way in-your-personal-bubble type of closer, noses brushing against each other. Curly lifts your chin up like he’s about to do something forbidden. 

You were almost convinced it was a joke till he actually kissed you. 

“Oh!” Lightly pushing on his chest, you stare at him. “Curly, that’s… we can’t.” 

Fisting at Curly’s shirt to pull him closer, you kiss him back. Harder. 

“Stop it,” like you’re not the one sucking on his tongue, tracing the bulge in his pants with your toes. “He’ll kill us!” It’s a half-whisper, half-yell. 

“Nah, I know Jim.” Says Curly, who more than well knows that Jimmy would have both of your heads on each respective stick to then keep as decorations in his trailer, “trust me.”

“Well…” but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon—you know him well enough to assume that he’s most likely sulking by now. “Okay then.”

And so you let him lay you down on his couch the way Jimmy did your first time with him. Only Curly is a thousand times more gentle in comparison. You’re a bad person for thinking it, but you almost wish Curly was your first. 

You’re still desperately kissing when his hands trail up your thighs, creeping under the hem of your dress to pull down your panties. Curly gets them about halfway down when you hear the unthinkable and the unmistakable. 

The cock of a gun. 

Jimmy’s holding this pesky little revolver that he probably found in his mom’s bedside drawer—the same one she blew her brains out with—pointing it at Curly and you with an expression resembling a wild animal more than a human face. 

[elikajinnie]

P: Gryffindor!Gunwook X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Bonding, Cute Ending, Maki Cameo, Teasing, Minor Jealousy, Suggestive Content, i know for sure hes a good kisser..

Synopsis: Working at a cozy little tea shop in Hogsmeade after classes has always been your quiet escape. You spend your evenings serving customers, sorting tea leaves, and enjoying the atmosphere—until one particularly reckless Gryffindor comes crashing (literally) into your life while chasing a mischievous pixie—and after breaking a few cups along the way—he seems to have taken a sudden interest in you.

a/n: This started as a idea some friends were tossing around on disc… and since I’m such a generous person, I decided to bring it to life for them. This is just an experiment, but if it does well, maybe I’ll write more on ZB1. (Not proofread)

Hogsmeade was always a treat to visit—not just because of the shops but because it was a world of its own, separate from the familiar halls of Hogwarts. That was why you made it a point to visit whenever you could.

There was one shop in particular that always called to you, a small teashop tucked away in a quiet corner. The scent of peppermint and daisies greeted you before you even stepped inside, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It became a ritual—settling into your usual spot by the window, a steaming cup of tea in hand as you flipped through a book or caught up on studying.

Your visits became so frequent that one day, the owner made you an offer: if you ever had free time, you could help around the shop. The idea of spending even more time in the teashop was too tempting to resist. Of course, you accepted, and soon, you found joy in a place that now felt a little like home.

You didn’t think anything could disrupt the careful balance of your life.

You should’ve known better than to jinx it. Because it wasn’t just anything that shattered your routine—it was someone.

The evening had been calm, the shop now empty except for the lingering scent of steeped tea and sugar-dusted pastries. You had fallen into the familiar rhythm of closing duties, cradling a small stack of teacups in your hands as you moved toward the counter. The soft clink of porcelain against porcelain was soothing.

Then, the door swung open with such force that the tiny bell above it nearly rattled off its hinge. The sharp blast of cold night air rushed in, carrying a voice—loud and frantic.

Startled, you barely had time to turn your head before someone slammed into you. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, and for a split second, all you registered was warmth—strong arms wrapping around you in an attempt to steady you both. But gravity wasn’t on your side.

With a startled gasp, you tumbled forward. The world tilted, your vision a blur of motion, and the next thing you knew, you were on the floor—more specifically, on top of someone else. The delicate porcelain cups you’d been holding slipped from your grasp, shattering against the wooden floor in a cacophony of breaking ceramic. The scent of peppermint tea burst into the air, mixing with the sharp tang of ceramic dust.

Heart hammering, you took a second to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what just happened. Then, slowly, you glanced down at the unfortunate soul beneath you.

Broad shoulders, disheveled dark hair, a familiar red-and-gold tie loose around his neck. Sharp, wide eyes staring up at you in what looked like surprise and amusement.

Park Gunwook.

Popular Gryffindor, Quidditch player, and the last person you expected to be lying beneath you in the middle of a teashop disaster.

You blinked. He smirked.

“Well,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d be falling for someone today.”

Your brain short-circuited for a second.

Gunwook’s smirk lingered as he lay beneath you, completely unfazed by the fact that he had just crashed into you. Meanwhile, you were still struggling to process what just happened, heat creeping up your neck as the weight of the situation—literally—settled in.

The broken teacups. The mess. The fact that you were still on top of him.

You scrambled to push yourself up, palms pressing against his chest as you tried to regain your balance. "I—what—why—" The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, your thoughts struggling to catch up with your mouth.

Gunwook let out a low chuckle. "You alright there?" His hands, which had instinctively caught you during the fall, lingered briefly on your waist before he let go, allowing you to awkwardly sit back.

You huffed, brushing stray strands of hair from your face before glaring at him. "You just—barged in here like a madman and tackled me!"

He grinned unapologetically. "Technically, you were in the way."

Your glare deepened, but before you could argue, a groan from the entrance made you both turn. A second-year Gryffindor stood frozen in the doorway, looking horrified. "Gunwook-hyung, I swear, I tried to stop it—"

A chorus of voices suddenly erupted from outside, and before you knew it, a small group of Gryffindors burst into the shop, all looking winded as if they had just sprinted across Hogsmeade.

"There he is!" One of them pointed at Gunwook, who was still lounging comfortably on the floor.

Before you could even begin to process the absolute mess unfolding in your peaceful little teashop, another one of the Gryffindors suddenly pointed upwards, their voice rising in alarm.

"Oi—there it is!"

Your gaze snapped up, along with everyone else's, and that was when you saw it.

A tiny, mischievous-looking pixie flitted through the air just below the ceiling, its translucent wings buzzing rapidly as it hovered above you. Its bright blue skin shimmered under the warm teashop lighting, and its sharp little eyes glinted with amusement. Most telling of all, however, was the high-pitched giggle that escaped its mouth, a sound so gleeful and impish that you knew, immediately, this thing was trouble.

For a moment, the entire shop fell into stunned silence.

Then, all hell broke loose.

"Catch it!" one of the Gryffindors shouted, already scrambling onto a chair in a desperate attempt to reach the creature.

"Don't let it escape!"

Gunwook groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Oh, come on! I literally was just about to catch that thing!"

The pixie, unbothered by the chaos it had caused, let out another giggle before darting away just as one of the Gryffindors lunged for it. The poor student miscalculated entirely and ended up face-planting onto one of the tables, sending a teapot flying.

You barely managed to dodge as it clattered to the floor. "Can someone explain why there is a pixie loose in my shop?" you snapped, but your voice was drowned out by the sheer noise of the impromptu chase now taking place around you.

The pixie, clearly enjoying the game, zipped between shelves, knocked over a vase of fresh daisies, and even had the audacity to tug playfully at your hair as it flew past you.

"Seriously?!" You swatted at it, but it dodged easily, giggling all the while.

Gunwook finally pulled himself to his feet, his eyes locked onto the creature with the determination of someone who had made this their life's mission. "Alright, enough of this," he declared, rolling up his sleeves like he was about to duel the thing. "Get ready to grab it when it comes your way!"

"You act like it’ll just let itself be caught," you muttered, ducking as another Gryffindor leaped for the pixie and missed spectacularly.

Gunwook only grinned. "Oh, it will."

And with that, he launched himself at the pixie.

The next few minutes were an absolute disaster.

Gunwook and his friends made increasingly ridiculous attempts to corner the pixie—diving across tables, stacking chairs on top of one another, and even using a Gryffindor scarf as a makeshift net. The pixie, meanwhile, danced through the air with ease, taunting them at every turn.

At one point, Gunwook nearly had it—his fingers brushed against its tiny frame��but just as he closed his grip, the pixie yanked on his tie and yanked him down with it.

The two of them crashed onto the floor right in front of you. Gunwook groaned, sprawled out on his back, while the pixie perched triumphantly on his chest, grinning from ear to ear.

You stared. "That is the cockiest little creature I have ever seen."

Gunwook, still breathless, just reached out weakly and muttered, "Help."

For a moment, you could only stare at the absurdity in front of you—Park Gunwook, one of the most well-known Gryffindors in Hogwarts, utterly defeated, lying flat on his back while a smug little pixie perched victoriously on his chest like it had just won a duel.

The rest of the Gryffindors stood frozen around the shop, panting from their failed attempts to catch the creature.

The pixie wiggled its tiny fingers in a mocking little wave. "Hee-hee!" it giggled before darting up into the air again, leaving Gunwook groaning on the floor.

"Okay," he huffed, slowly sitting up, his tie still slightly askew from where the pixie had yanked on it. "That thing hates me."

One of his friends wheezed out a laugh. "No, I think it just knows you’re the easiest to mess with."

Gunwook shot them a glare but didn't deny it.

You, however, had reached your limit.

First, you’d been tackled to the floor. Then, your teacups had shattered. And now? Now, your cozy little teashop had turned into a battleground for a pixie chase.

Absolutely not.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you exhaled sharply before rolling up your sleeves. "Right. Enough of this. Move aside, amateurs."

The Gryffindors blinked at you in surprise as you strode forward.

Gunwook sat up straighter, brows raising. "Wait—you think you can catch it?"

You shot him a pointed look. "Unlike you, I don’t charge at things headfirst like a brainless troll."

A few of the Gryffindors snickered, and Gunwook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "That was unnecessary."

Ignoring him, you turned your attention to the pixie, who was now perched on the teashop's chandelier, swinging its tiny legs back and forth as if enjoying the view.

You slowly reached into the pocket of your apron and pulled out a sugar cube.

The pixie’s giggling slowed as it noticed the treat. Its tiny eyes locked onto the cube with interest.

"That's right," you murmured, holding it up between your fingers. "You like sweets, don’t you?"

The pixie tilted its head, intrigued.

Gunwook, now watching with rapt attention, whispered, "Are you—are you bribing it?"

You shot him a quick glare. "Shut up."

Gunwook immediately mimed zipping his lips.

Carefully, you extended the sugar cube further, moving just slow enough to keep the pixie’s interest without startling it. "Come on," you coaxed, keeping your voice soft. "No more running around. Just take this, and we’ll call a truce."

The pixie hesitated for a moment. Then, slowly—very slowly—it began fluttering down from the chandelier, inching closer and closer to your outstretched hand.

Gunwook and the rest of the Gryffindors held their breath.

The pixie landed lightly on your fingers, sniffing at the sugar cube curiously.

Then—quick as lightning—you flipped your other hand over and cupped it around the creature, trapping it in your palms.

The Gryffindors exploded into cheers.

"NO WAY!"

"HOW DID YOU—"

"THAT WAS BRILLIANT!"

Gunwook gaped at you, utterly awed. "You actually caught it."

You gave him a pointed look. "Told you I was better at this than you."

Still holding the pixie carefully in your grasp, you turned to face the mess of your teashop. Broken teacups, overturned chairs, spilled sugar, and petals from the knocked-over vase littered the floor.

You sighed. "Now, before we celebrate—" Your gaze flickered back to the group of sheepish Gryffindors. "You’re all cleaning this up."

Gunwook groaned dramatically but got to his feet. "Fine. But only because you’re terrifying when you’re in charge."

"Idiot," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you walked toward the back room to secure the pixie.

Behind you, the Gryffindors scrambled to fix the disaster they had caused—while Gunwook, grinned as he whispered to his friends, "I think I just fell in love."

You could still hear the Gryffindors bickering as you stepped into the back room, carefully cradling the now very grumpy pixie in your hands. It wriggled and huffed, clearly displeased that its fun had been cut short.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," you muttered as you reached for an empty jar on one of the shelves. With practiced ease, you gently guided the pixie inside before sealing the lid with a flick of your wand. A few ventilation holes appeared at the top, ensuring the little menace could breathe—not that you cared much after all the chaos it had caused.

The pixie pouted at you, crossing its tiny arms as it flopped onto the bottom of the jar.

"Don't give me that look," you deadpanned. "You started this."

The pixie stuck out its tongue before turning away in protest.

You sighed and shook your head before heading back into the main shop.

To your surprise, the Gryffindors were actually cleaning up. Kind of.

Gunwook had dragged a broom across the floor—but in the most half-hearted, lazy way possible, barely moving the broken shards of teacups around. One of his friends was stacking chairs upright again, while another was using their wand to vanish the spilled sugar.

It was progress. Messy progress, but progress nonetheless.

Gunwook noticed you watching and straightened up, flashing you his usual carefree grin. "See? We got this under control."

You arched a brow, gaze flicking to the still-visible mess. "Really? Because it still looks like a disaster zone."

One of the Gryffindors groaned. "Give us a break, we’re trying!"

You exhaled, rubbing your temples before setting the pixie jar onto the counter. "Fine. Just... try to finish up before the owner gets back."

Gunwook perked up. "Wait, you’re not the owner?"

You shot him an unimpressed look. "Do I look old enough to own a business?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, maybe you’re just super mature."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could reply, the door to the shop suddenly opened again.

Everyone immediately froze.

Your stomach dropped.

Your boss was not supposed to be back this early.

But instead of your boss, an older wizard, dressed in the official robes of the Hogwarts faculty stepped in. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the mess and the startled Gryffindors.

Gunwook, still gripping the broom like he’d been caught red-handed, let out an awkward cough. "Uh. Hello, Professor."

Your heart sank. This was bad.

Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, slowly folded his arms.

"Would someone like to explain," he began "why I am missing a certain pixie, and after searching everwhere for it, I find it here?"

All eyes immediately turned to Gunwook.

Gunwook blinked. Then, ever so slowly, he pointed at one of his friends. "It was his fault."

"WHAT?!"

Chaos erupted again.

And you—utterly exhausted, utterly done with everything—just buried your face in your hands and groaned.

Even if the entire evening had been a disaster, at least one thing had gone right—you’d managed to hand the pixie back to the Professor after discovering the truth. Apparently, one of the Gryffindors had nicked it from class to pull a prank, only for it to backfire spectacularly when the pixie escaped and caused absolute mayhem.

You had expected the professor to hand out a brutal punishment, but after a long sigh and a muttered, "Gryffindors," he simply took the creature and left, no doubt exhausted from dealing with worse over the years.

With that crisis averted, you and the others scrambled to finish cleaning the shop, fixing the broken cups with hurried Reparo charms and wiping down the tables. By some miracle, they’d all managed to sprint out the door just before your boss returned.

So, in the end, you thought that was that.

You thought you were done with them.

You truly believed you’d be able to return to Hogwarts in peace, wrapped in your own thoughts as you pulled your jacket tighter around you to block out the chill of the evening air.

That belief was shattered the moment a familiar presence suddenly appeared beside you.

"Oi," came Gunwook’s voice, casual as ever.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. "Merlin’s beard,—" You turned your head, only to find him grinning at you, completely unfazed.

He held up a small paper bag, shaking it slightly. "Candy?"

You eyed the bag warily. "Why are you here?"

Gunwook blinked. "I’m walking back to Hogwarts?"

"You could’ve gone with your friends."

"Yeah, but they’re slow." He shrugged, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth before offering the bag again. "So? Want some?"

You hesitated before sighing, reaching into the bag. "If this is your way of apologizing for ruining my shift, it’s very cheap."

Gunwook gasped in mock offense. "Cheap? I’ll have you know, I used my own money for this."

You gave him a look. "That’s usually how buying things works, Gunwook."

He just laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked beside you. For a few moments, the two of you fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional rustling of leaves in the chilly autumn breeze.

"You know," Gunwook suddenly said, glancing at you, "I think you might secretly like me."

You nearly choked on the candy. "What?"

He grinned, stuffing another chocolate into his mouth. "Just saying! You did let me walk you back."

"You ambushed me."

"Details, details," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled your jacket tighter around you, trying to ignore the fact that he was still walking beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Gunwook, however, didn’t seem to pick up on—or chose to ignore—your attempts to brush him off. Instead, he casually tilted his head toward you. "So, you work at that little teashop a lot, huh?"

You raised a brow, side-eyeing him. "Yes? Why?"

He hummed, chewing on another piece of candy before responding. "Dunno. Just… didn’t expect you to be the type."

"The type to what? Have a job?"

He snorted. "No, the type to work in a quiet, cozy place like that. You seem more like the ‘rolling your eyes at customers’ type."

You scoffed, though you couldn't deny he had a point. "Well, when you’re dealing with people like you, it’s hard not to roll my eyes."

Gunwook clutched his chest dramatically, nearly dropping the candy bag. "Ouch. You wound me."

"Not hard to do," you muttered under your breath, but he still caught it, laughing in amusement.

For a while, the two of you walked in silence again, the warm glow of the castle slowly coming into view up ahead.

Then, just as you thought Gunwook had finally run out of things to say, he surprised you.

"I think it’s cool, though," he said, voice softer this time. "That you work there."

Before you could figure out how to respond to that, he suddenly nudged the bag of candy toward you again. "Here. You should take some more."

You furrowed your brows. "Why?"

"Because I feel bad about, you know, completely destroying your shift." He flashed you a sheepish grin. "Consider it a peace offering."

You eyed him suspiciously, but after a moment, you sighed and reached into the bag, grabbing a small piece of fudge. "Fine. But this doesn’t mean I forgive you."

"Of course, of course," he said, nodding seriously—though the grin never left his face. "But if you ever do forgive me, I wouldn’t mind getting a free cup of tea next time I stop by."

You rolled your eyes. "You actually think I’d let you into the shop again?"

Gunwook smirked. "You haven’t kicked me yet, have you?"

You groaned, stuffing the fudge into your mouth to stop yourself from saying something you might regret.

Unfortunately, the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the candy.

And everything to do with the boy walking beside you.

You didn’t see Gunwook for a few days after that night. And you weren’t going to admit it, but a part of you couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. It wasn’t like you wanted him to show up again, but after the strange ease of your last conversation, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d left something unfinished between you two. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you had better things to focus on—like getting through the rest of the week without anything else catastrophic happening.

It wasn’t until you were walking through the crowded Hogwarts hallways, trying to make your way to class, that you found yourself suddenly thrown out of your thoughts.

One minute, you were minding your own business, and the next, something zipped past you with a whoosh—and before you could even react, a body crashed into yours.

You gasped, your eyes instinctively squeezing shut as you braced for impact with the stone floor. But instead of hitting the ground, your body twisted in midair, and you found yourself somehow landing on top of someone, the air knocked from your lungs as they hit the floor with a soft thud.

You blinked rapidly, eyes wide open now, and there he was—Gunwook, his face barely an inch from yours.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Neither of you said anything.

His chest rose and fell beneath you, warm and steady. His eyes—wide with surprise at the sudden collision—locked onto yours, the usual mischievous glint missing for once.

You were too close to him, and it made your heart race faster than you liked to admit. And then, for just a fraction of a second, you swore you saw his gaze flicker down to your lips.

Your breath caught in your throat, a thousand thoughts flooding your mind. Was he—was he really looking at my lips?

The heat between you seemed to grow in that brief moment of silence, as though the world outside the two of you had disappeared entirely. But then, like a flip of a switch, Gunwook blinked, snapping his gaze back to your eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Well," he said, still grinning, his voice low and teasing, "this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for our next meeting, but I’ll take it."

You pushed yourself up from him a little too quickly, your heart still hammering in your chest as your face flushed. "Are you insane?!"

Gunwook let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his head where it had collided with the ground. "Guess I’m not the only one who can’t keep their balance around here."

You took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure as students began to gather around, staring curiously at the two of you on the floor. You shot a quick, annoyed glance at him. "Maybe you should keep your Quaffle under control next time."

Gunwook’s grin widened, and he winked. "Maybe I don’t want to— not if it gets me this close to you again."

You froze. Your eyes locked with his for a moment longer than you cared to admit, and the feeling of his hands against your sides as he helped you up sent a strange shiver down your spine.

"Next time," you muttered, still not quite able to look him in the eye, "keep your distance."

He raised an eyebrow, stepping back and brushing off his robes. "If you insist, I guess. Though, I can’t promise I’ll be able to stay away if you keep tempting me."

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Tempting him? You were sure you hadn't done anything to warrant that kind of remark. But as Gunwook’s grin stretched wider, clearly savoring the effect his words had on you, you couldn’t deny that your heart was still racing.

"Gunwook," you started, your voice much shakier than you intended, "you’re unbelievable."

He simply tilted his head, eyes still gleaming with that playful glint. "Is that a challenge?"

You quickly shook your head, desperate to regain control of the situation. "No! No challenges. I’m just saying—keep your comments to yourself, alright?"

Gunwook took a step closer again, and you couldn’t help but tense up at the proximity, your brain racing. Was he really that bold?

"Alright, alright." He raised his hands in mock surrender, though that smirk never left his face. "I’ll keep the comments to myself—for now."

You barely managed to suppress a groan. "Good. Now go... do whatever it is you do."

With a soft chuckle, Gunwook straightened up and took a step back. "Guess I’ll see you around, then."

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

Gunwook turned, seemingly satisfied with the interaction, and started to walk away, his footsteps gradually growing fainter as he made his way through the bustling hall. You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breath, feeling the adrenaline slowly fade, replaced by a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place.

You had no idea what that was. What he was doing, or why it made your heart flutter in a way you were absolutely not prepared for.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, trying to push the interaction out of your mind as you continued your walk to class.

The rest of the day passed in a blur—disjointed conversations, lectures that didn’t seem to hold your attention, and the occasional glance from friends who probably noticed your distracted state. You couldn’t focus on anything without your mind drifting back to Gunwook.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself back in the common room later that evening, your thoughts still tangled. You were reading, though you hadn’t registered a single word, your mind preoccupied with the earlier interaction.

You closed the book with a frustrated sigh and set it down on the table. Maybe it was time to give your brain a break—or maybe you were just avoiding dealing with the fact that Gunwook had somehow gotten under your skin.

A soft shuffle of footsteps broke your train of thought, and you glanced up to see one of your friends, Yuna, entering the common room. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, and she immediately made her way over to your table, her curious gaze scanning you.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting down across from you. "You’ve been a bit... out of it today."

You nodded, trying to dismiss the thoughts of Gunwook that had been distracting you all day. "Yeah, just... distracted." You couldn’t exactly tell her why, could you? The last thing you needed was for Yuna to start pestering you about him.

"Distractions can be a good thing, though," she teased, clearly reading the shift in your mood. "You’ve got that... look."

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. "What look?"

Yuna leaned forward, grinning widely. "The 'I met someone who’s got my attention' look."

You froze for a second. Did she know?

"No," you quickly said, shaking your head, hoping the heat rising in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious. "It’s just school stuff. I’m fine."

Yuna raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she let out a soft sigh. "Alright, if you say so. But just so you know, I’m not buying it."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You never do, do you?"

Yuna just shrugged. "I know you too well. But whatever, I'll let you figure it out yourself."

That was all you really wanted to do—figure it out by yourself. But as much as you tried to tell yourself that, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the answer was slipping further away every time Gunwook flashed that smug grin of his or said something that made your heart beat a little too fast.

You’d been trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. It was just Gunwook—annoying, persistent, and always just a little too close for comfort. You could handle it. It wasn’t like he was that special, right?

But you knew better. The more you tried to convince yourself, the more confusing it became. And honestly? You'd rather scrub cauldrons with Professor Snape glaring over your shoulder than trying to figure out Gunwook. At least with Snape, you knew exactly what to expect—sneers, insults, and the possibility of something blowing up in your face. Gunwook, though? He was a puzzle you couldn't even begin to unravel.

The next few days passed in a blur, with Gunwook and his constant presence never far from your thoughts. Every time you saw him in the hallways, your stomach did that ridiculous flip, and it wasn’t even like he was doing anything special. He was just... there. Watching you with that look in his eyes that could have meant anything—or nothing at all.

You tried to avoid him. Or, at least, you told yourself you would. But the problem was, every time you tried, you’d end up bumping into him at the most inconvenient moments. The hallway outside the library, the staircase on your way to class, and once even by the Gryffindor common room, where he’d casually lean against the wall like he was waiting for you.

"Not again," you muttered under your breath, but sure enough, there he was. Gunwook stood at the top of the stairs, a bag of sweets in one hand and that damn grin plastered across his face.

"Why so serious?" he asked, tilting his head. "Didn’t expect to run into you here."

"Why are you always where I am?" you shot back, crossing your arms, trying to mask the irritation that only came from how damn good he was at showing up uninvited.

He shrugged, taking a leisurely step closer. "Maybe I like the view."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but something about his tone caught you off guard. Was he teasing you? Or was there something else there? You really didn’t want to think about it too hard.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, stepping around him, but of course, he moved just enough to block your path, as if he knew exactly how to make you stop.

"Am I?" he asked, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed your ear. "You don’t seem to mind too much."

You froze, heart pounding in your chest. There was no denying it—he was doing it on purpose. And you hated yourself for the way your pulse skipped a beat.

"You don’t know what you’re doing," you whispered, trying to stay composed.

Gunwook simply looked at you, the playful spark in his eyes replaced by something a little deeper, a little more... intentional. "I think I do."

You hated how that sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how easy it was for him to unnerve you. But more than anything, you hated that despite everything you couldn’t seem to walk away.

And that, you realized, was the most frustrating part. The fact that no matter how hard you tried to figure it out, you couldn’t seem to resist the pull he had on you.

Now, one thing with Gunwook that had become a regular occurrence was his tendency to tease you in that infuriatingly flirty way of his. He’d pop up when you least expected it, say something that made your cheeks flush, and all you could do was roll your eyes or shut him down. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he could affect you with just a look or a sly comment.

Gunwook, however, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it more the more you tried to push him away. It was like a game to him, one that he was determined to win—even if he didn’t know the rules. And you? Well, you hated that he kept winning, even though you never gave him the satisfaction of admitting it.

That was just the dynamic between you two, and honestly, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t handled before. You had your own way of pushing back, of keeping things at arm's length. What you didn’t have to deal with was this strange, flustering feeling whenever he got close. It was like your brain short-circuited, and the only thing you could do was put on the mask of indifference and push him away.

But, there was one person you didn’t need to keep a distance from—Maki.

Maki was a Gryffindor friend who shared a similar teasing dynamic with you. The difference was, with him, you didn’t hold back. You gave it right back to him, returning every sarcastic jab or playful comment with something just as sharp or just as ridiculous. It was fun, and it was safe. You knew where you stood with Maki, and there was never any awkwardness, no heart-racing moments that made you second-guess yourself.

But what you didn’t realize was that Gunwook had been a witness to a particular exchange.

It happened one afternoon when you, Maki, and a couple of other friends had gathered in the grand hall, chatting and laughing. Gunwook had walked in, clearly looking for some distraction, but when he saw the way you and Maki were bantering back and forth—mocking each other, laughing too loudly, trying to one-up the other—it caught his attention.

You noticed that Gunwook’s gaze had drifted over to you two, a little too intense, a little too curious. And you couldn’t quite tell if it was the way you and Maki made each other laugh that was so intriguing or if it was just the way the two of you acted together that seemed to capture his attention.

"Come on, just admit it," Maki said with a smirk, flicking his wand to levitate a book towards you. "I’m better at Transfiguration than you. I’m pretty sure you just got lucky with that last answer."

You directed your attention back to Maki and grinned, eyes narrowing. "Lucky? Please, I’m always better than you."

Maki chuckled, clearly pleased by the exchange. "You’re delusional if you think—"

But before he could finish his sentence, you flicked your wand to send his book spiraling out of his reach, laughing as he scrambled to catch it. "Oh, is that so?" you teased. "You can barely keep up, Maki. Are you sure you're not losing your touch?"

Gunwook couldn’t hold back the slight chuckle that escaped him. His eyes flicked between the two of you with a mix of amusement and... something else.

He watched the playful exchange unfold before him, and when Maki shot you a playful grin, he raised an eyebrow.

"Guess you two are quite the pair," Gunwook remarked casually, as if commenting on something he’d been observing for some time.

You froze, your laughter dying down just slightly, but you didn’t let it show. "What’s that supposed to mean?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Maki, ever the tease, leaned in toward Gunwook with a sly smile. "Oh, you know how it is. We have great chemistry."

Gunwook’s eyes flicked from Maki to you, and for a moment, the playful light in them shifted into something more thoughtful. "Huh," he said, his voice quieter now. "So that’s how it is."

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the shift in the air. You hadn’t realized just how much Gunwook had been watching, paying attention to how you interacted with Maki. And for some reason, that made you uncomfortable. Not because of Maki—Maki was your friend—but because Gunwook had not seen that side of you, the side where you weren’t trying to guard your feelings, where you weren’t second-guessing everything you said.

He didn’t say anything else after that, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, just a little. Gunwook had noticed something about you, and that made you question whether you’d been too careless around him. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, what he thought about your dynamic with Maki.

As you exchanged a final glance with Maki, you quickly turned to leave the gradn hall, your heart pounding in your chest. Gunwook was still standing there, watching you as you walked away, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just opened the door to something that was about to get a lot more complicated.

It did get more complicated, just as you’d feared. After that day, it seemed like Gunwook had made it his personal mission to push your buttons more than ever. His teasing remarks were sharper, more frequent, and without fail, they made you flustered every single time. He had this uncanny ability to zero in on your weak spots, effortlessly making you blush or stumble over your words when you least expected it.

You’d be walking through the hallways, trying to avoid making eye contact with him, but then he'd lean in from out of nowhere, his voice low and smooth. "I was just thinking about how good you looked in that sweater the other day."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks before you even processed what he’d said. You quickly shoved your hands in your pockets, avoiding his gaze. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was no use. Your heart was hammering, your thoughts were racing, and all you could do was focus on walking away as quickly as possible without looking like you were about to combust.

And then there were the times when he’d purposefully appear right behind you, just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. His voice would come from just over your shoulder, and the way he’d drop a casual compliment always made your pulse spike.

"Careful there, you might just break hearts if you keep looking like that," he’d say with that teasing smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

It was infuriating how easily he made you lose focus. You hated it. And yet, you didn’t do a thing to stop it.

The worst part was how effortless it all seemed for him. Gunwook wasn’t just teasing in that playful way anymore—there was something more layered to it. It was like he knew exactly how much it would make you squirm, how much he could push you before you’d retreat into yourself. But it was never enough for him. He’d always find a new angle, a new way to leave you flustered.

You found yourself seeking ways to avoid him, hoping that maybe if you stayed out of his path long enough, the teasing would die down. But then you’d find him sitting at the edge of the courtyard when you least expected it, catching you off guard with that damn grin.

"Did you miss me?" he’d ask, voice light but knowing. And you would just stand there, blinking in disbelief, too embarrassed to answer. You had no idea how he did it—how he could keep showing up when you thought you had enough distance.

One afternoon, you were walking to the library, trying to get through a mountain of homework, when you turned a corner and found yourself nearly face-to-face with Gunwook, who had somehow appeared out of thin air. Before you could even blink, his hand shot out, brushing your arm in that way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Whoa there," he said with that ever-so-charming smile. "You didn’t see me coming, huh?"

You stepped back instinctively, your heart racing in your chest. "Seriously, Gunwook? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He shrugged casually, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Nah, just trying to keep you on your toes."

It felt like your entire body was on alert, the way he stood so close, his gaze lingering a little too long on your face, like he was waiting for you to say something—anything.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t say anything that would give him more ammunition. You had to keep it together, even though every part of you was screaming to back away before you did something you’d regret.

"I’m just trying to get to the library," you said, forcing a smile, sidestepping him as you attempted to regain some sense of normalcy. "You know, not fall over from shock."

He matched your pace, stepping along beside you. "And what’s in the library for you? Looking for a little escape from all this fun?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, hoping it would throw him off, but Gunwook didn’t seem to mind. He was in it for the long haul, and you were caught right in the middle of it.

"I swear, Gunwook, you’re the most infuriating person," you muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. You couldn’t even muster up the frustration to match your words. It was like you were too tired to argue anymore, too flustered by him to even try.

"Well," he said, drawing out the word, "I guess I’m your favorite type of infuriating person then."

You were about to shoot back a quick retort, but before you could, you heard Maki’s voice in the distance, calling out to you.

"Hey! Don’t let him get to you, alright? You know he’s just messing with you!"

You sighed in relief, finally having a reason to escape the conversation. "Thanks, Maki!" you called back, shooting Gunwook one last glance. "I’m going to the library to actually get some work done, not to get distracted by you."

Gunwook raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll let you have your peace," he said, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes told you he wasn’t going to make it easy.

Gunwook didn’t make it easy. Not one bit. In fact, it seemed like he had decided to make it his personal mission to join you wherever you went. You hadn’t even been in the library long, your focus on the books in front of you as you tried to dig through them and find the references you needed. The quiet hum of the library normally gave you peace, but that tranquility was fleeting, because just as you flipped through a thick tome, you felt the unmistakable presence of someone standing far too close behind you.

A shiver ran down your spine before the familiar voice of Gunwook slid into your ear, smooth and dangerously close. “You know, it’s a lot more fun to study when there’s company,” he murmured, the words so soft that they made your breath catch.

You froze, the book slipping slightly in your hands as you tried—unsuccessfully—to ignore the closeness of his body. Your heart rate sped up in a way that had nothing to do with your academic endeavors. “Gunwook,” you said, trying to sound annoyed, though you could hear the waver in your voice that betrayed you. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d join you,” he replied casually, his tone almost too smug for your liking. “You’ve been spending so much time avoiding me, figured I’d make things a little more... interesting.”

You tried to focus on the pages in front of you, but every time you turned a page, the faint scent of his cologne, mixed with the warmth of his proximity, sent a jolt through your system. He was right there, so close that if you moved an inch, you’d be brushing against him.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you muttered, hoping you sounded convincing. “I was trying to get some work done.”

Gunwook chuckled, a sound that was somehow both teasing and entirely too intimate for the library. “And now you can’t concentrate, can you?” His voice was low and playful, making your skin prickle.

You quickly moved to shift your position, but Gunwook anticipated the move. Before you could even react, he was leaning over your shoulder, his arms brushing against yours as he glanced down at your open book. “What’s this, huh? Studying for Potions? I could help you with that.”

“Help?” you scoffed, trying your best to sound uninterested. “You? You probably can’t even remember what the ingredients for a simple healing potion are.”

“Oh, I know them,” he said smoothly, his voice light. “I just don’t care enough to memorize them like someone here does.”

You rolled your eyes, already aware of where this conversation was going. His teasing never stopped, and you never quite seemed able to push him away. He always found a way to slip through the cracks in your defenses.

“Seriously,” you said, hoping to steer the conversation back to your work, “I really do need to focus.”

But Gunwook wasn’t having any of it. He leaned in just a little closer, his breath now warm against your neck. “You don’t need to focus. You need a break,” he whispered, his voice laced with that same playful, distracting tone. “And I think I’m just the person to help you with that.”

Before you could even respond, he pressed himself just a little further behind you, making it almost impossible for you to continue reading without feeling like he was taking up every inch of your attention. You could feel the heat of his chest against your back, the slight weight of his body as he hovered, and suddenly, the library didn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, frustrated, but not nearly enough to push him away.

“No,” he replied with a grin you couldn’t see but could definitely hear in his voice. “I’m exactly what you need.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But Gunwook seemed to have a way of making even the most mundane situations feel like something you couldn’t walk away from.

You barely had time to process his words before a sudden movement broke your focus. As someone walked by, Gunwook’s hand shot out without warning, gripping your waist tightly and pulling you just a little closer, pressing your back into him. The sudden closeness made your breath catch in your throat, your body jolting in response as the weight of his hand on your waist intensified.

The force of it caused you to lose your grip on the book in your hands, and it slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud. A gasp escaped your lips as you braced yourself against the nearby shelves to steady yourself, your heart hammering in your chest from the shock of it all.

“Gunwook!” you whispered sharply, your breath shaky as you quickly righted yourself, still feeling the ghost of his touch against your side.

He didn’t let go immediately. Instead, his grip lingered for just a moment longer, his body still pressed up behind you as if the situation was completely normal. “What?” he said innocently, though there was an undeniable smirk in his voice. “I was just trying to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Your pulse was racing, but you couldn’t tell whether it was from the embarrassment of the situation or something else entirely. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the way his presence seemed to consume the space between you, making it hard to think clearly.

You finally managed to pull away, though it was more out of necessity than desire. “You can’t just—” you started, but your words trailed off when you turned to face him, catching the amused look in his eyes.

You stood there for a moment, unable to find the words to finish your sentence, your mind still swirling from the closeness of the moment. His eyes—those mischievous, bright eyes—seemed to be studying you, like he knew exactly what effect he was having on you, and it made your chest tighten.

"You were saying?" Gunwook asked, his voice teasing but with a hint of curiosity, as if he was genuinely interested in your response. His smirk never left, though now it felt almost like a challenge.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. It was like your brain had short-circuited, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his body that had been so close to yours just moments before. You should have been mad, or at least frustrated, but instead, you were acutely aware of how his presence seemed to wrap around you, making it difficult to push him away.

“I…” You stopped, finally shaking your head as you closed your eyes for a moment to regain your composure. “You can’t just keep doing this,” you said, though the words felt weak even as they left your lips. You wanted to sound firm, to set some boundary, but it was hard when you weren’t sure what you wanted from him.

Gunwook leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to something that sent a shiver down your spine. “Doing what? Just having a little fun with you?” His tone was soft but laced with something deeper, something you couldn't quite identify, and it made your heart beat faster.

You took a step back, needing space, needing air. “You’re not funny, Gunwook,” you muttered, trying to regain control.

But he just smiled, that same unreadable, confident smile that made you feel like he knew more than he was letting on. “I think you like it, though,” he said, his words barely above a whisper. His gaze flickered down to your lips for a brief, stolen moment, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

Your pulse quickened, and for a moment, you felt paralyzed, caught in that brief glance and the weight of his words. Gunwook wasn’t just teasing anymore—there was something else beneath the surface. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you, something more intense than the usual playful banter.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to push back against the tension he’d stirred up, but your voice failed you for a second.

“You don’t have to admit it, but I can tell,” he said, his voice low, the teasing edge still there but softened by something more sincere, almost vulnerable. “You’ve been reacting to me this whole time.”

It was like the ground beneath your feet shifted. You wanted to brush him off, to laugh it off as just another one of his games, but it was impossible. The way he said it, so casually, like he had nothing to lose, made you feel as though he had cracked open something inside of you that you hadn’t been ready to face.

You exhaled, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m not—” you started, but the words died on your lips as you caught his gaze again. He was watching you so intently, as if he could see right through the walls you’d built up.

He tilted his head slightly, that glint of challenge still in his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he murmured. “I already know how you feel.”

For a heartbeat, the world around you felt too loud, the rustle of pages and soft murmurs of students in the library nothing but background noise to the sudden silence between you. You weren’t sure how to respond, or if you even could.

The way Gunwook had a way of getting under your skin, of pushing you just enough to make you confront things you weren’t ready to, made your chest tighten. You wanted to tell him off, to shut him down for good, but part of you… part of you was starting to question if you even wanted that.

“Gunwook…” you finally whispered, your voice almost a plea, though you didn’t know what you were pleading for.

He didn’t move, didn’t break the distance between you, but there was something in his eyes—something softer now. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.

Neither of you moved for a while, but the space between you slowly seemed to shrink, as though some invisible force was drawing you closer together.

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding with each second that passed. You should’ve said something, anything to break the moment, but instead, all you could do was watch the subtle shift in his expression—the softening of his features as he held your gaze. It was like he was waiting for something from you, or maybe you were waiting for something from him.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. You found yourself leaning in, just slightly, just enough to close the gap between you, your breath mingling in the air that hung between you. You could feel the pull—magnetic, inevitable—and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from moving closer.

Gunwook didn’t back away either. If anything, he seemed to lean in just as much, as if testing the boundary between you two, both of you moving closer without quite realizing it.

The moment your lips finally met, it was soft, hesitant—almost like a question being asked, an answer left unspoken. It was just a fleeting touch, barely enough to make your pulse race, but as soon as you pulled back, the world around you felt strangely quiet. You both stood there, eyes wide and breath shallow, staring at each other as though neither of you could quite believe what had just happened.

For a beat, neither of you moved. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to speak, or if you were waiting for yourself to make sense of what had just transpired. But the silence stretched too long, and the pull between you—now so much stronger—was impossible to ignore.

Before you knew it, your hand was already reaching out, grabbing the front of Gunwook’s tie, pulling him back in without thinking. His breath hitched as his body reacted instinctively, closing the distance between you, lips crashing together again, this time deeper, more urgent.

The world around you seemed to vanish as your lips moved in sync, kissing with a hunger that neither of you had fully acknowledged before. Gunwook’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between you, your body pressed up against the cool shelves behind you. The weight of his touch sent shivers down your spine as his arms circled around you, holding you tighter.

The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic, more desperate. It felt like everything had been building to this point—the teasing, the tension, the stolen glances—and now there was no holding back.

You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a library, surrounded by students who could easily walk by. It felt like everything else had faded, leaving only the two of you.

Gunwook's hands slid to your back, guiding you closer as he pressed you harder against the shelves.

Time slowed. You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in the kiss, caught in a moment that felt both like a beginning and an end. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, your heart raced in your chest, and your mind felt like it was reeling.

Gunwook was still close, his forehead resting against yours, breath coming in heavy pants. His lips were swollen, and his eyes—those playful eyes—held something more serious now.

“You’re not going to be able to get rid of me now,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You took a breath, the teasing glint still alive in your eyes. "Oh, I think I can handle it," you said, voice laced with playful challenge. Your fingers brushed lightly over his shoulders, the contact sending a ripple of electricity through you. "But I’m not sure you’re as easy to get rid of as you think."

Gunwook chuckled, the sound low and warm in your ear. "Is that so?" he teased, leaning down slightly, his lips grazing the side of your neck, sending a shiver through your body. His hands shifted, fingertips gliding along the curve of your waist under the fabric of your robe, making you bite your lip in an attempt to suppress the wave of warmth that flooded you.

Your own fingers trailed across the smooth skin of his neck, feeling the tension there as your touch sent a shiver down his spine. "You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who just got put in their place," you teased, running your hand down to his shoulder, your thumb brushing over the muscles there.

Gunwook smirked, his hands drawing you closer as his fingers traced circles along your hips, his touch growing more confident. "I like to test my limits," he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck again, this time lingering a moment longer, savoring the sensation.

He moved his hands down, one sliding lower on your waist, the other gently resting on the curve of your hip. "You should be careful," he whispered, his voice now a hushed growl in your ear. "You might not be able to walk away if you keep this up."

You felt his lips press gently against your jaw, the soft caress sending a ripple of heat through you. "I’m not worried about walking away," you shot back, your fingers now tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your touch. "But you should be careful. I might not be as easy to keep around as you think."

A slow smile spread across his face, his gaze more intense. "I’m starting to like the challenge," he said.

And without another word, his lips found yours again—slow at first, as though testing the waters. But you didn’t need time to think, not anymore. You responded instantly, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was far from innocent.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle. The world around you seemed to disappear as his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath you shared.

And you would never pull away from him.

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[urno1luv]

can you write hard dom ryujin?

Ryujin was always in charge.

It was in the way she carried herself — lazy confidence, sharp smirks, that low, raspy voice that could make you squirm with just a single word. She never had to raise her voice or beg for your attention.

You gave it to her without even realizing. But tonight? Tonight she's making sure you never forget who you belong to.

You're already stripped bare beneath her, wrists pinned above your head against the mattress. The air is thick with sweat and her perfume — musky, a little sweet — but all you can focus on is the weight of her body pressing you down, the way the leather strap harness digs into her hips as she grinds the thick silicone cock between your soaked folds.

"You wanna act all shy now, baby?" she murmurs, voice low and mocking against your ear. "After you've been begging for me all fucking night?"

You whimper, hips bucking — but she doesn't let you get what you want, keeping the strap just out of reach. "Pathetic."

Her fingers wrap around your throat — not squeezing, just holding — just enough pressure to remind you exactly who's in control.

"You think I didn't notice?" she rasps. "The way you were looking at me all night... rubbing those pretty little thighs together like some desperate slut."

Your whole face burns, but the way she's talking to you — mean, possessive — has your legs spreading wider without even thinking.

Ryujin sees it. "That's what I thought."

She finally presses the head of the strap against your entrance — teasing, stretching you open just a little — but not pushing in yet.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?" she purrs. "Want your girlfriend to break you in?"

You nod frantically, trying to grind down against the strap — but she just laughs, fingers tightening around your throat to hold you still.

"Beg."

Your breath catches, thighs trembling beneath her. "Please..."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me..." Ryujin's smirk curves slow and dangerous.

"That's my girl."

She thrusts into you in one smooth motion — no warning, no teasing — just filling you up to the hilt in one deep, brutal stroke.

You cry out, back arching — but she just clamps a hand over your mouth, muffling every desperate little sound.

"Shh... take it."

Her pace is relentless from the start — hard, deep thrusts that make your body jolt with every snap of her hips. The leather harness digs into your skin, the silicone cock stretching you wide, making you feel so fucking full you're already dizzy — but she doesn't let up, doesn't let you adjust.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" she growls, voice rough against your ear. "Wanted me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes — and Ryujin just smirks, dragging her thumb down to your clit without breaking her rhythm.

"Look at you..." she purrs. "So fucking wet for me... letting your girlfriend fuck you like she owns you."

You can't even speak — just whimpering, gasping into her hand as she pounds into you harder.

"Who's pussy is this, baby?"

"Y-Yours—"

She presses her thumb down harder against your clit, making you cry out into her palm.

"Louder."

"Yours, Ryu— oh, fuck— yours!"

That's all she needed.

Her hand drops from your mouth, wrapping around your throat again as she fucks into you faster — chasing your orgasm like she won't stop until you're a shaking, broken mess beneath her.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" she rasps. "Gonna let your girlfriend fuck all those shy little noises out of you?"

You're already so close — hips grinding up into hers, nails digging into the sheets — but she doesn't let you tip over the edge just yet.

"Not yet, darling." she growls, slowing down just enough to make you ache. "Not until I say."

You sob, body trembling beneath her — but Ryujin just smiles, leaning down to bite at your jaw, low and possessive.

"Good girls wait."

You're begging by the time she finally lets you come — wrecked and shaking under her, legs wrapped tight around her waist as she fucks you through it, growling in your ear how pretty you look when you're falling apart for her.

But even when you're whimpering from the overstimulation — body wrecked, slick dripping down your thighs — Ryujin just smirks, grinding the strap deep inside you one more time.

"You really thought I was done with you, baby?"

Her fingers wrap around your throat again — gentle, but firm.

"I haven't even started yet."

[lsunstreakerl]

part ten of the maxiel corporate au! (do I need to change the name? things are getting complicated here. the day I write a clearly monogamist fic that's not the real sunny anymore)

heads up: both explicit content and violence in this one. the violence is somewhat mild, but it's still there.

it's the daniel and rico section, obviously, which is how this ended up being 3k. whoops. Max POV, Daniel POV.

Max double checks the list in his hand, waving behind him as he steps into the elevator. He's been doing good today- focused on his work, somewhat put his foot down with Daniel, and he's been exchanging messages with Rico during his brief breaks.

He leans against the wall as the elevator starts its ascent. He knows what he's actually going up here for- it'd be difficult not to.

He's trying not the think about last time, the way he'd been shoved down onto the desk, Daniel's hand pinning him. It'd be embarrassing to already be hard coming into the office, but he's rapidly headed that direction, hot under his shirt collar.

He's worrying at the paper in his hands, fingertips running across the folds and creases. He'd taken a picture of it, because he doesn't want to lose it or drop it anywhere.

There's the now-familiar pleasant chime of the elevator doors sliding open, and then Max is making his way down the hallway- a left, a left, and a right- to Daniel's office door. He knocks, rolling back onto his heels as he waits.

"Come in."

Max slides the door open, slipping inside. Daniel's staying late as well, and his curls are messy, like he's been running his hand through them. He looks about as tired as Max and the rest of the finance department feels.

And apparently also how they look, because Daniel raises an eyebrow at him and whistles, low and long.

"Damn, there a war going on downstairs? I didn't realize I'd be dragging you from the frontlines, babe."

Max makes a so-so motion with his hand, shrugging. He's too tired to feel flustered, not quite up for the normal cat and mouse game talking to Daniel always feels like.

"Might as well be, sir. I don't think anyone's a fan of Netco at the moment."

Daniel scowls, capping a pen with more force than necessary.

"Tell me about it, christ."

Max takes a few steps forward. There's an open space on the desk, and Daniel hasn't gestured for Max to come over, but-

Everyone is tired. Max doesn't mind sticking to routine.

The pleasantly surprised expression on Daniel's face when Max deftly steps around his knee and hops onto the desk is more satisfying than Max anticipated.

Daniel's shoulders relax, hands coming down to spread his fingers across Max's thighs.

"Taking initiative, Maxy?"

Max tilts his head to the side, leaning back on his hands.

"We have performance evaluations coming up, sir."

Daniel laughs- a real one, which Max is learning is different from the ones he'll give over the phone.

"Glowing marks for you babe, I've only heard good things."

He reaches up, tapping lightly at Max's jaw.

"Real pretty face too."

Max isn't sure if it's the sleep deprivation, the pleasant feeling he's had all day, the pent up horniness, or a combination of the three- but he's feeling bold, twisting his head to capture two of Daniel's fingers in his mouth, running his tongue over them.

Daniel makes a surprised noise, pressing them against the inside of Max's cheek.

"Yeah?"

Max hums, spreading his thighs on the desk. He wants.

Daniel presses down on his tongue before withdrawing his fingers, pushing his thumb into Max's bottom lip.

Max makes a soft noise, waiting for an instruction, but Daniel seems mildly captivated. He's not doing anything.

If Daniel wants Max pent up and horny all the time, he's going to have to deal with the consequences. Max slides off the desk, folding down onto his knees between Daniel's legs, looking up at him.

Daniel's eyes are wide and entranced, hand gently falling into Max's hair.

"Maxy, what's gotten into you?"

Max rests his cheek on Daniel's thigh, his own hands held neatly in his lap. He's not sure how to answer- just knows he feels more settled in his own skin about everything, feels less like he's in free fall than he did before.

The knowledge that he'll be calling Rico after helps. Even if he does feel weird when he's done with Daniel- and he usually does- Rico will make it better.

Max doesn't really want to answer though. He knows what he's up here for, and so does Daniel, even if the energy is different this time.

Daniel laughs softly, fingers absentmindedly carding through Max's hair.

"Okay babe, we can do that. But I've got to actually get some things handled, and you really do need to go back to work after- so how about we try something different, yeah?"

Max blinks, waiting.

"I need that list, sweetheart."

Oh, right.

Max carefully pulls it out of his pocket, handing it up to Daniel. There's a moment where Daniel's fingers brush over the back of Max's hand, heat shooting through him.

"Thank you."

His other hand pulls Max's head up a bit, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Can you be good if I give you something to keep your mouth occupied?"

Max is confused for a moment before realizing, cheeks flushing as he nods. Daniel pats the top of his head.

"Good."

He rolls forward, and Max has to scoot further underneath the desk to accommodate. It's darker, noise muffled through the thick wood- his head is spinning.

Daniel's fingers nimbly unclasp his belt, and then he's pulling his cock out, letting Max wrap his fingers around the base.

Max gives a few experimental licks at the tip, but Daniel's hand tightens in his hair, tugging.

"I said be good, babe."

Max makes a soft noise, sinks a few inches down. Daniel's fingers tighten again before relaxing, smoothing gently over his hair in a way that almost feels apologetic.

Max can feel his shoulders sinking down, muscles relaxing as he takes Daniel further down his throat. His mind is starting to float away from him, blurring at the edges of his consciousness in a way that Max is learning he really likes.

Daniel's hand is heavy on his head, and Max can faintly hear him speaking above him, but it's not at him, so he doesn't think too hard about it.

At some point- Max isn't sure how long it's been- he can feel drool starting to pool at the bottom of his mouth, and he doesn't even think before he swallows.

Daniel's voice hitches above him, fingers squeezing. Max winces, because he hadn't really meant to do that.

He does his best to behave after that, letting Daniel's voice wash over him from above, eyes drifting closed. It's not quite like sleeping- but it's relaxing.

He doesn't even realize that Daniel has stopped talking, lazily blinking his eyes open when Daniel's thumb brushes across his hairline.

"Maxy, how you doing down there?"

Max makes a soft hum. Daniel's half-hard, and Max is only duly aware of his own arousal.

He leans his face into Daniel's hand. It's surprisingly nice, being like this with him. So far most of Max's time with Daniel has been overwhelming, a blur of embarrassment and pleasure, but this is different- he feels like putty, resting between Daniel's legs, holding his cock in his mouth.

It's slowed his brain down, eased the tension out of his shoulders and spine.

Daniel's fingers slide back into his hair, and then he's pulling back, his other hand reaching down to support Max's head.

"C'mere babe."

Max goes easily, blinking against the bright light as he shuffles out from the desk. His legs are asleep, buckling under him when he tries to stand.

Daniel's quick- gets his hands around Max's waist, bringing him back up and into the air, settling him on the desk again.

Max feels boneless, eyes hazily watching Daniel's. His face softens, one hand coming back to Max's thigh.

"Yeah, I think that's enough for today."

Max isn't sure how long he sits there- he feels like he's been out in space, and he's trying to come back down to Earth. Daniel keeps one hand curled around his hip, but he's rolled closer to the desk, still navigating around on his monitor.

Max finally starts to shift, rolling his ankles carefully as feeling comes back to them. Daniel's eyes flick up to his from where he's been intently reading an email, the edge of his pen caught between his teeth.

Daniel grins, squeezing his hip.

"Feeling good?"

Max thinks about it for a moment- he is. He really is- more than he thought was possible, considering they didn't really do anything.

"Yes sir."

Daniel's smile is softer than Max is used to, not quite as sharp as it's been before.

"Catering is just about here, if you're ready to head back downstairs."

Max feels his eyebrows furrow.

"But sir, you didn't-"

Daniel cuts him off with a soft squeeze.

"It was what I needed, babe. Good job."

The praise flickers at the pit of Max's stomach, turns into something warm and gooey inside of him. He wants more of it.

Daniel's hands still hover by his waist as Max slips off the desk, but his legs are more stable now, supporting his weight.

"Thank you, sir."

Daniel tilts his head, looking like there's something else he wants to say- but he just shakes it softly.

"I appreciate you bringing the list up."

Max nods, and then he's leaving Daniel's office. He doesn't go back down to the fourth floor- gets out at the 5th instead, where everyone has gone home for the night.

He steps into one of the employee bathrooms, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Max?"

"Hi, Rico."

There's a low noise from Rico on the other end of the line, and then the background chatter on his end fades away as Max hears a door shut.

"You sound good."

Max feels good- better than he ever has after Daniel before. He hums, eyes drifting shut as he pins the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

"It was gentle today. He didn't actually fuck me though, which was weird."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I just kind of stayed under the desk for a little bit. I feel like I took a power nap, honestly."

"That's good. Sounds like he took care of you for once. You feeling good too?"

Max nods before he remembers Rico can't see that.

"Yes, I'm very relaxed. But it's nice, being able to talk to you."

Rico makes a soft approving noise, voice dropping lower.

"Glad to hear it. You did such a good job for us both, being good for Daniel like that. I'm proud of you."

Max leans his head back against the wall, letting the praise smolder low in his gut, seeping warmth into him. First Daniel, now Rico- Max is going to develop an ego if they keep this up.

"He's catered us dinner for the department, since we're all having to stay late tonight."

"Yeah, that's nice of him. I have a match tonight, so I won't be home, but you're more than welcome to stay at my place, okay?"

"Oh- thank you. I might do that, it depends on how the rest of the night goes."

"Always available, Max. I'm never going to be upset if I come home and you're there."

Max hums. He needs to go back downstairs- his brain is starting to kick back up, running smoother than it had before. There's a couple reports he wants to go over again.

"It'll just be a surprise then. Have a good match, Rico. Take 'em for all their worth."

"Hell yeah."

------

It's dark out when Daniel finally logs out, scrubbing his hands down his face. He's not worried-

He's a little worried.

The official VIP invitation to a local match had caught him by surprise until he saw who it was from, and now he's moderately concerned for his life.

Or his teeth, at the very least. It's inspired him to get an appointment set up with his dentist, but if he loses a few he's not going to be happy.

He shakes out his hands, standing from the desk. It'd been a surprising change of pace with Max earlier- Daniel really had intended to be less... tender, about the whole thing. It's a strictly sex based arrangement, so it's entirely inconvenient that he's suddenly started noticing the freckle on Max's lip, or his stupid little slack emoticons, or the way he'd looked so trustingly up at Daniel from under the desk.

Max isn't interested in anything from Daniel beyond that, and Daniel shouldn't be interested in anything from Max. He has a feeling that Rico is about to beat that message into his skull.

Literally.

------

Daniel... sort of forgets about the looming threat above his head. He gets caught up in the lights, in the showmanship- he's always been a fan of fights, and being in such a good seat really is exciting for him.

He remembers the moment they announce Rico. His blood ices over, sweat beading at the back of his neck. Rico is huge, and he's exactly as jacked as Daniel expected him to be.

He gets a bit lightheaded- hears the match start, watches with blurry vision as Rico tears through his opponent like butter.

There's a moment where Rico turns, eyes catching Daniel's for a brief moment- right before he hits the other man so hard Daniel feels sympathy whiplash in his neck.

There's a ding of the bell, and then Rico is definitely looking at him- blood smeared on his teeth, lips stretched into a grin.

Daniel feels a shiver run down his spine- maybe it's the last of his self preservation finally deciding he's a lost cause and jumping ship. If Daniel was street smart, he'd be hightailing it out right now- wouldn't even give Rico the opportunity.

Unfortunately, he's not. It's a well known personal failing- he's got a good eye for business, but sometimes common sense likes to skip him.

So he follows Karim back down the hallways to the setup rooms, waiting patiently after Karim leaves. Part of him wants to ask him to wait with him, protect him from getting beat to a fucking pulp, but-

Karim is part of Rico's team, and that would probably just end with two people hitting him instead of one.

------

Daniel's fiddling with the rings on his fingers when the door swings back open again, and then Rico is stepping in.

There's a wet towel around his neck, pink spots on it from where he's been wiping blood off of his split lip. He kicks the door back shut behind him, eyeing Daniel. His eyes drag across him slowly, and Daniel shifts where he's sitting on the counter, uncomfortable.

Rico huffs a laugh, tossing the towel onto one of the counters as he leans back against the door with his arms crossed, blocking the only exit.

"What, don't like being looked at like a piece of meat?"

Oh.

Daniel has a feeling that charisma isn't going to serve him well here- he averts his eyes.

"Look at me."

Rico's voice is low and dangerous, and Daniel's looking back at him immediately, heart pounding. There's adrenaline hot in his veins, but nowhere for it to go.

Rico steps forward off the door, moves right up into Daniel's space. His back is flat against the wall, large fingers coming up to grip his jaw tightly. Rico is a burning line of heat in front of him- Daniel feels tiny in his shadow. If someone opened the door, they probably wouldn't even be able to see him- it makes him feel like a prey animal, like he wants to roll over and show his belly, hoping and praying that it's enough.

He lets Rico move his chin up, meeting his eyes.

His heart has never gone this fast in his life.

"You are one lucky bastard, that Max likes what the two of you have going on. If it was up to me, I'd fucking leave you here in a trash bag."

Daniel swallows, afraid to move. Rico sneers down at him, split lip glistening with fresh blood.

"But I don't like how you're doing it, so here's what's going to happen, yeah? You're going to step it up-"

His fingers grip tighter for emphasis, jerking Daniel's head slightly.

"-and do it right. If you keep using him and tossing him away, I'll leave you in so many pieces they'll give up looking for you. Got it?"

Daniel nods, eyes wide. He can do that- of course he can do that, he's realized that he wants to do that.

Rico tilts his head, eyeing him appraisingly, and then suddenly there's a thick thumb in Daniel's mouth, pressing down meanly on his tongue-

Daniel whines.

Rico scoffs.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're going to be a good boy now when you fuck Max, yes? Treat him nice, take care of him after. He tries so hard to behave for you-"

His thumb curls behind Daniel's bottom teeth, yanking him forward into his chest so that Rico can look down at him.

"I think it's time for you to put in a bit of effort as well."

Daniel breathes shallow through his nose, nodding. He can do that, he can-

Rico pulls his thumb out, pushing Daniel back against the wall as he turns away.

"I don't want to have to have this conversation again Ricciardo- I won't be as nice the second time."

Daniel slumps back against the cool concrete behind him, face flushed. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and his eyes are wide as he tracks Rico moving around the room, pulling a hoodie over his head.

Rico looks back over at him, impassive.

"Handle yourself, and get the fuck out of my building."

Daniel has never listened to someone quicker.

[littelovelunette]

Vengeance (ft. Ambessa Medarda)

Important note: I don't write for Ambessa Medarda yet, but I WILL open the request slots and start writing fics for her soon.

~ @zthebean27 reblogged my initial post of Vengeance saying they need one like that with Ambessa, and reblogs help writers. Since you helped me, I'll help you <3

The air was thick with the scent of iron.

Your blood soaked into the silk sheets, a deep crimson stain spreading across the once-pristine fabric.

Your breaths were shallow, each one dragging fire through your lungs. You had managed to kill the assassin—his body lay crumpled on the floor, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. But not before his blade had found you.

Pain throbbed in your side, sharp and relentless, the warmth of your own life pooling beneath you.

The world swayed, the edges of your vision blurring, dark spots creeping in like shadows waiting to claim you.

The heavy stomp of boots echoed down the marble hall. Controlled. Powerful. Unhurried.

You knew that sound. "Ambessa..." You whispered the name, but your voice died before it could issue from your lips.

The doors to the private quarters were flung open with a force that made the walls tremble.

Ambessa Medarda stood in the doorway, framed by the flickering torchlight, her golden eyes burning with something dangerous. She took in the scene—the ruined bed, the dead assassin, the blood. Your blood.

Ambessa's blood ran cold.

For the first time, you saw something flicker across her face. It was gone in an instant, buried beneath years of discipline and war-forged control, but you had seen it. A crack in the unshakable foundation.

She crossed the room in three strides. The scent of steel and spice clung to her, familiar and grounding.

A gloved hand seized your chin, tilting your face up. Her thumb brushed over your cheek—soft, just for a second—before she dropped to her knees beside the bed.

"Who?" Her voice was low, dangerous.

You forced a smirk, though it felt weak. "Didn't stop to ask." You managed to gesture at the tangles of what you left of the assassin.

She huffed a breath through her nose, unimpressed. But there was something in the way her fingers flexed against your skin, like she was restraining herself from gripping too hard.

Her gaze dropped to the wound in your side. Without a word, she tore off her gloves, hands moving with practiced efficiency as she pressed down on the injury.

White-hot agony lanced through you, and you gasped, fingers curling into the sheets.

"Stay awake." A command. No room for argument.

Her grip was firm, steady, keeping pressure on the wound as she reached for the dagger at her belt.

With a swift motion, she sliced a strip of cloth from your ruined nightwear, winding it tightly around your waist. It was rough, brutal, but effective.

"Get me more later." You whispered with a small breathy giggle. "It was my favourite set." You pouted a little despite the searing pain.

"You should have been more careful."

A reprimand, but there was an edge to it—one that wasn’t entirely anger.

Your lips curled into a faint, pained smirk. "You almost sound worried."

Her jaw clenched. "You're my wife." The words were clipped, precise. Like stating an undeniable fact. "No one touches what is mine."

Ambessa lifted you effortlessly into her arms, holding you against her broad chest as if you were something fragile—something worth protecting.

Her heart beat steady beneath your ear, strong and unwavering. And for the first time since the attack, you felt safe.

Ambessa carried you like you weighed nothing, her grip unyielding but careful, as if the very idea of dropping you was inconceivable.

Her body radiated warmth, a grounding presence amid the pain and blood loss clouding your mind. You could hear the sharp commands she barked to the guards as she strode through the Medarda estate.

“Lock down the premises. Find any other threats. If they breathe wrong, kill them.”

Her voice was steel, but the way she clutched you was something else entirely.

By the time she reached the estate’s private medical wing, exhaustion threatened to pull you under. The moment she laid you down, her big hands hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before pulling away. The loss of her warmth sent a shiver through you.

The medics swarmed in, but Ambessa didn’t leave your side.

She hovered, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching every movement with the lethal focus of a warrior on the battlefield.

When the lead doctor hesitated, she snapped, "If you let her die, I will personally ensure you regret it."

The pressure of bandages, the sharp sting of antiseptic—it all blurred together. But through it all, Ambessa was there, her presence an unshakable force.

By the time the medics finished, the pain had dulled into a bearable throb. The room had emptied, leaving only you and her.

You forced your eyes open, searching for her in the dim light. She was sitting at your bedside, elbows resting on her knees, her head bowed slightly.

The usual ironclad mask she wore had cracked, just enough for you to see what lay beneath.

Concern.

Relief.

Love.

When she realized you were watching her, she exhaled slowly and leaned forward, her fingers brushing against your cheek.

It was the softest touch you had ever felt from her—warm, steady, reverent.

"You scared me," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard. Ambessa Medarda didn’t admit weakness.

Your lips twitched into a weak grin. "You? Scared? The great warlord of Noxus?"

Her hand shifted, trailing down to cup the side of your neck, thumb brushing gently over your pulse. "I would burn the world to the ground for you."

The weight of those words settled between you, heavier than any blade, sharper than any wound.

"You’re not losing me that easily," you murmured, tilting your head into her touch.

She huffed, something like amusement flickering in her golden eyes.

"Good. Because if you had died, I would’ve had to drag you back just to scold you for being reckless."

You chuckled, wincing slightly, and she immediately pressed a kiss to your forehead—a rare, intimate gesture that sent warmth spreading through your chest.

"Rest, love" she murmured, fingers threading through your hair.

"I’ll be here when you wake."

[luvvcho]

❅・WHISPER OF THE HEART

SYNOPSIS — The three times he tries to tell you, and the one time he actually does.

WC — (2.3k)

CONTENT: SFW, angst (if you squint), hurt/comfort, family issues/neglect (gojo's family is lowkey awful), idk how to make these erm

a/n: hai ^.^ so i lowkey haven’t written since 2021, so pls bear with me as i get back into writing again! also, i’m looking for a beta reader! if you’re interested, you can reach out to me :p m. list | next >

Tokyo, Japan 2005

Gojo's eyes stung from trying to keep a tear or two from rolling down his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, blinking fast as if that might stop them from falling and hoping you wouldn't notice.“They won’t let me in,” he muttered, stepping away from the towering gate of his family’s estate. His voice was light, almost casual if not for the way it cracked at the edges. “Dad’s pissed I missed my English lesson, so I guess I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

Your brows knit together. In the two years you’d known him, you never quite understood how his family worked, only that they were wealthy, controlling, and conditional in their affection. As long as he played the part they expected, they gave him everything. The moment he strayed, even slightly, they turned their backs, and just like every other time, he ended up on either your doorstep or Suguru’s.

His head hung low, but his arm still found its way around your shoulders, pulling you along as he walked away from the gate. You caught a glimpse of his mother in the upstairs window, standing in the supposed warmth of their grand home, watching her son disappear down the street. You opened your mouth to say something, but what was there to say? Instead, you swallowed it down. “Where are we going?”

“Payphone,” he sighed. “Mine’s dead. Gotta ask Suguru if I can crash at his place again.”

Again. This happened too often.

“Stay at mine,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. “It’s my fault you’re home late anyway.”

Gojo glanced at his watch, the golden arms pointing to 6:30. Seven hours ago, he had been standing in front of your teacher, voice sharp, unwavering, as he tore into them for lecturing you about the length of your uniform skirt. You had both landed in after-school detention, but if given the chance, you knew he’d do it all over again.

He shook his head. “Nah. Zenin’s an asshole.”

His dismissal was instant, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers curled just slightly around your shoulder, holding on.You both rounded the corner in silence, leaving behind the towering homes and pristine streets of the Gojos’ gated community. 

The cold late-November air bit at your skin, and you tugged your jacket higher, burying the lower half of your face into the fabric. Your mind was surprisingly empty; no lingering thoughts about his family, no plan for what came next. Just the rhythmic sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy beside you was drowning in his thoughts. A million miles a minute, his brain ran wild, tripping over itself. Not about his father slamming the door in his face, not about the house staff refusing him entry, and not about how ridiculously messed up it was that having to sleep somewhere else didn’t even surprise him anymore.

His thoughts fixated on something far more immediate… his arm. His arm which was slung so casually around your shoulders, holding you close against the cold.

He hadn’t even realized it at first. The motion had been instinctual, natural, like muscle memory. But now, the weight of it pressed against him like a revelation.

He had his arm around you.

Sure, you were close. Friends, obviously. Best friends, maybe. But never in a million years did he think he’d be standing like this, side by side, your body tucked under his as if it was second nature. He couldn’t help but think you fit into him perfectly, as if you were meant to be there.

If he looked down, really looked, he’d notice everything he’d been unconsciously curious about since the day he met you. The way your hair caught the dim glow of the streetlights, the way your breath fogged up in the cold, the way your fingers curled into your sleeves for warmth.

And suddenly, his jacket felt way too hot. His grip flexed slightly on your shoulder, fingers twitching before he forced them to still.

This was stupid. Ridiculous. He was Gojo Satoru, for god’s sake. He had girls throwing themselves at him all the time. Not that he ever really cared. But standing here, his heart thudding a little too loud, a little too fast, over something as simple as having his arm around you?

He was so screwed.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask, snapping him out of whatever strange, faraway thoughts had him so quiet. It wasn’t like Gojo to be this silent. If anything, you were more accustomed to telling him to shut up rather than coaxing words out of him, so it didn’t take long for you to notice something was on his mind.

His head jerks up slightly, caught off guard. “Uh…talk about what?”

You give him a look. He knows exactly what. And when realization flickers across his face, his expression shifts instantly.

“Ohh,” he drawls, lips curling into a smirk. “Are you worried about me? How endearing, I didn’t know you cared about me so much.”

And just like that, he’s back.

“Satoru,” you warn, pulling away from him.

He instantly regrets teasing when the warmth of your body leaves his side. Cold air rushes in between you, and even though it should be a relief, his body still feels uncomfortably warm. But he shoves his hands into his pockets and keeps his expression even, pretending it’s no big deal

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” you remind him, stepping forward to walk ahead.

He nods, though he doesn’t say anything.

The truth is he doesn’t want to talk about his family. He doesn’t want to talk about how easily they push him away, how conditional their love is, how the weight of their expectations feels like a noose around his neck. His family already has a say in every part of his life, in who he is, in who he’s allowed to be. Hell, he wouldn’t have even met Suguru if it weren’t for them. You were the only thing they hadn’t touched and he refuses to let them ruin you, too.

So silence settles between you. You’re waiting for him to speak, patient as always, but the words never come.

A few minutes pass, the payphone comes and goes behind you, and the scenery transitions from the suburbs into a less wealthy part of Tokyo.

It’s only when the glow of streetlights stretches further down the road that Gojo suddenly speaks again, voice lighter, teasing. “Say it again.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“My name,” he grins, this time not hiding the way he tilts his head slightly toward you, playful curiosity glinting in his blue eyes. “Say it again.”

You sigh, giving him a small shove with your shoulder. “Stop being weird. Why should I?”

“I like when you say my name.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s a really weird thing to like.”

He gasps dramatically, pressing a hand over his chest as if you’d just personally offended him. “Don’t make fun of my interests, you wound me!”

A small laugh escapes you despite yourself. “You’re so annoying.”

But you’re smiling, and you notice that Gojo, for some reason, can’t stop staring at you.

The teasing back-and-forth continues, playful insults exchanged between you until you both break into giggles. He plays up his grievous injury by clutching his heart, stumbling as if he’s been struck by your cruel words.

And then—

“Oh, Satoru.”

His head snaps up.

The way you say his name makes something in him trip over itself, and it almost manifests into his exterior world as he stumbles over his own foot.

His first thought is that you’re about to say something important. Something meaningful, something that might make his pulse pick up for reasons he doesn’t yet want to think about.

But then you tilt your head back down the street.

“We passed the payphone a few blocks ago.”

Gojo blinks, momentarily dumbfounded, before breaking into a grin. “Aww, you said my name.”

You groan. “Shut up.”

He hums, pretending to think. “So… do you wanna turn back?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?” he shrugs, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “I thought I was staying with you.”

You open your mouth, then pause. The easy confidence in his voice makes it sound like it was always going to be that way, like it was never even a question in his mind.

“…You sure?” you ask, hesitant now. “I was just kidding earlier. I mean Suguru’s place is closer, and my family might not be home—”

Gojo shrugs. “His parents are family friends. It might not be wise to go there. Plus I like your place better”

It’s simple. It’s honest.

It’s enough to make you roll your eyes and keep walking, but you don’t argue.

Gojo lets himself fall back in step with you, brushing against your side again, this time without wrapping his arm around you. His hands are cold, but the warmth from earlier still lingers.

It was much darker now than when you had left Gojo’s place. If not for the streetlights and the bright glow of the business signs overhead, the night might as well have been pitch black.

A block from your house, the neon light of a convenience store caught your attention. You tugged lightly on Gojp’s sleeve.

“Let’s grab something to eat.”

Gojo hummed in agreement, following you inside. The store was small, the aisles packed tight, and the fluorescent lights buzzed softly above. You made a beeline for the instant ramen section, scanning the shelves.

“What’s the move?” he asked, casually resting his chin on your shoulder from behind.

You stilled at his closeness, your face heating in response.

“Spicy miso,” you said, grabbing two cups. “Unless you wanna cry over beef-flavored sadness.”

He chuckled. “Oh, bold of you to assume I won’t cry anyway.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved the cups into his chest. He caught them easily, grinning as he walked toward the register. You followed, digging in your bag for your wallet, but before you could pull it out, Gojo stopped you with one hand and swiped his card with the other.

“Satoru,” you whined.

“You’re letting me stay the night. The least I can do is buy us dinner.”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated when you realized his hands were still on yours. The warmth of his touch lingered a little too long. Before he could notice the scarlet creeping up your neck, you turned away.

“Whatever. I need some air,” you muttered, stepping outside.

Moments later, Gojo followed with two steaming cups of ramen in hand, the convenience store door chiming as he walked through. He settled beside you on the curb, letting the cold night air cool the broth. You both take your first bite.

Gojo nudged his foot against yours. “Y’know, you didn’t have to offer me a place to stay.”

“I know.” You took a careful sip of your broth. “But I did.”

He stared down at his ramen, idly swirling the noodles with his chopsticks. The streetlights cast a soft glow over his face, rounding out the sharp edges, making the sharp angles of his jawline softer, less untouchable.

You’d always heard girls at school talk about how perfect he was: his looks, his charm, the effortless way he carried himself. But you had never really seen it before. Not like this. Not until now, in the quiet glow of the streetlamp, with the world stripped of its noise.

You were not going to catch feelings for Gojo Satoru. You looked away, shoving the thought aside and focusing back on your food, until something caught your eye.

Tiny white flecks drifted down from the sky, vanishing the moment they met the pavement.

“Satoru, look!” you said, turning back to him, excitement bubbling in your voice. “It’s snowing.”

Gojo lifted his gaze, watching the flurries dance under the streetlights. And then, when he looked back down at you, something in him shifted.

The snow dusted your lashes, melting with every blink, your cheeks were tinged pink (not just from the cold but from being flustered earlier, but this he did not know). And, oh, how he wished he could just tell you how beautiful you were. “Pretty,” he said, quietly. “The snow, I mean.”

You reached up, brushing a few flakes from his hair, laughing softly. “It matches your hair.”

And suddenly, he wanted to say it.

In fact, this was the part where he was supposed to say it.

That you made him feel like home, even when he didn’t have one. That you were the only person who had ever wanted to get to know him. Not his last name, not his status, just him. That he didn’t know when it started, but somewhere along the way, his heart had stopped being his own. That standing next to you, sharing cheap convenience store ramen, in fact doing anything with you, felt more like belonging than anything he’d ever known.

His lips parted.

He whispered your name.

“Mhm?” You looked up at him mid-bite, noodles hanging from your lips.

I love you. I’m in love with you.

But the words get caught in his throat.

He let out a breath, setting his cup down beside him. “You, uh… got something in your teeth.”

You blinked. “Huh? Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Right there.”

You ran your tongue over your teeth before flashing him a grin. “Got it?”

He stared for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable in his eyes. Then he glanced away. “Yeah. You got it.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Satoru. You’re a good friend.”

He exhaled softly, resting his head atop yours.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Friend. You too.”

And for now, that was enough.

the plot for this has been fully thought out, and i’ll do my best to get the next 3 chapters done as soon as possible, but i am a student and pretty busy.

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[fireinmoonshot]

touchy | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquin has a thing where he always likes to have a hand on you whenever you're together – holding your waist, holding your hand, a hand resting on your thigh. You finally decide to confront him about why. Warnings: Mentions of food, a kind of spicy make-out scene. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I had this idea and I just had to write it. It's shorter than my other Joaquin fics but I had so much fun writing it and I really just wanted to get something else for Joaquin out for you guys! Please send in requests for him if you have any! 💗

One thing you never expected when you started dating Joaquin Torres was how touchy the man was – there was barely any time when the two of you were together when he wasn’t touching you in some way. 

It surprised you at first. He never came across as that kind of person. He was the definition of a Golden Retriever boyfriend. But then you’d be standing with him at a party and you’d feel his hand wrap around your waist, or whenever you had to cross the road, he’d hold your hand (not unlike your parents used to do when you were a child), or when you were at home watching a movie on the couch, his hand would rest on your thigh.

After several months of this, you finally decided to ask him why.

“Joaquin, can I ask you something?” You call from where you’re sitting in the living room, your eyes flickering up from the book that was on your lap – the one you’ve been trying to read and failing, owing to the fact that your boyfriend has been strutting around your apartment shirtless ever since he got out of the shower.

“Course you can, angel,” he calls back from the kitchen.

Out of the two of you, Joaquin is the cook of the family. You hadn’t trusted him in the kitchen at first – he had always seemed the type of person to accidentally chop off a finger because he was too distracted. But so far, no such accidents had occured and he was much better at making a delicious meal than you were.

You were quick to close your book and get up from the couch, padding through the hallway into the kitchen to see him standing at the bench, chopping something up on a cutting board in front of him – still irritatingly shirtless.

“Cooking shirtless is dangerous, you know,” you say, announcing your presence. 

His eyes flicker up towards you. “For you or for me?”

You give him a look. “For you, pretty boy. I’m not the one holding the knife.” 

Joaquin grins at you before putting the knife down, wiping his hands on the cloth on the bench beside him and grabbing the apron hanging over the back of one of your bar stools. “Should I put this on then? Someone clearly isn’t enjoying the show.” 

“Baby,” you roll your eyes at him jokingly, crossing the room and snatching the apron out of his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant. I meant you could get burned by oil or slip and cut yourself or… well… there are plenty of dangers to cooking shirtless.” 

Joaquin smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest so you’re pressed together. “Angel, all those things you just listed are also things that could happen to me if I were wearing a shirt. You know that, right?”

You can’t help the way you pout at him. “Not my point, Joaquin.”

He grins and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Was that what you were coming in here to talk about?” He asks, his thumb swiping gently back and forth over your waist. 

“No, actually,” you hum. “I was coming here to talk about this.” You motion in-between the two of you, at the contact between your bodies. You’re not not a fan of it – of course you love it – but it does amuse you, the fact that your boyfriend always wants to have a hand on you at all times. 

Joaquin raises his eyebrows. “We playin’ charades? Am I meant to guess?”

You laugh a little. “No, silly. This. The way I walked into the kitchen and you swept me up into your arms immediately. The way you always have a hand on my back when we walk somewhere. The way you put your hand on my thigh when we’re on the couch. The way you’re touching me all the time.” 

Irritatingly, your words have the opposite effect than intended and Joaquin steps away from you, removing his hand from your waist. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and almost reach back out for him. 

“You don’t like it?” Joaquin asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

You hate the look on his face – the way he looks like a wounded puppy. His usually playful eyes look sad, full of fear and you can read his expression immediately. He thinks that by doing these things, he’s made you uncomfortable.

“Baby, no – I love it!” You attempt to rectify the situation. “I just was curious about why.”

Unable to keep looking at his sad puppy dog eyes anymore, you step forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands gently. His hands tentatively rest on your waist, as if he’s afraid you’re going to move away at any second but he simply can’t help but to touch you, just a little.

“You’re so touchy and I love it, Joaquin. I love having your hands on me all the time, I swear. Just now when you took your hands off my waist it was like… like it was suddenly winter and I was freezing cold without them. I just wanna know why you do it,” you explain further, making sure you keep eye contact with him.

Joaquin frowns a little. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he replies. “I think I kinda just do it without meaning to. I just love the feeling of having my hands on you, feeling your warmth, reminding myself that you’re beside me. And I mean…” He clears his throat. “Have you seen yourself, angel? Why would I not wanna touch you at any given opportunity?”

It’s like his confidence makes a return to his body, then. His grip on your waist gets tighter and he pulls you closer, forcing you to drop your hands from his face. They rest on his shoulders instead as he backs you up a little so you’re leaning against the counter. His body is pressed against yours again, like it was only minutes ago. The warmth you’d missed before falls over you like a sheet of pure comfort.

You can’t keep the smile off your face at his words and actions. “That’s kinda cute, Joaquin,” you admit. “That you do it without thinking about it. Like I said, I love the feeling of you having your hands on me too.”

“Cute?” Joaquin looks at you with raised eyebrows. “You think I’m cute?”

It’s hard not to smile at his tone. “Yeah, adorable. You’re like a little puppy. You were looking at me before with the most puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a person. You looked so sad, I just wanted to pick you up and–”

Before you can finish speaking, Joaquin cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. You moan at the sudden feeling of his lips, the feeling of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The way that his hands grip your waist tighter, one of them roaming up your back to grasp at the back of your neck so he can kiss you deeper.

The edge of the counter digs into your back but you barely even notice the feeling. One of your hands moves to run through Joaquin’s hair – it’s short, but long enough for you to grip, the other on his back. The feeling of his muscles against your palm only makes you want to kiss him more. The last thing you want to do is break apart for air.

Your breath hitches as he squeezes your waist again, forcing your lips apart. Both of you are breathing heavily, though the break doesn’t last long. Joaquin wastes no time in kissing you again, but this time his lips move from yours to your jaw. He presses soft, gentle kisses along the side of your jaw and down your neck. You tilt your head backwards, giving him better access. When your hand grasps onto his hip, he gasps a little and you can’t help but smile at the sound. 

“See?” You mutter breathlessly, tilting your head forward again to meet his eyes. “I told you that cooking while shirtless was dangerous.”

Joaquin laughs at that, a gorgeous smile finding its way onto his face. You look at him, at the sweat on his forehead, the look of lust and love in his eyes, the way his chest moves up and down quickly, his breath still heavy from your small make out session. He’s easily the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on… and he’s all yours.

He moves his hands down to your waist again and before you can do anything about it, he’s lifting you up so you’re sitting on the counter and pushing your legs apart so he can stand in-between them. At this angle, you’re basically the same height.

“I see no problems here, angel,” he flashes that gorgeous grin again before messily pressing his lips to yours again. He pulls away quickly though, much to your disappointment. “Now that we’ve established that I’m not cute, I am going to continue cooking you dinner. I’ll let you go back to your book.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, turning to watch him as he returns to the cutting board. “I have a much better view right here than I do in the living room, baby. Besides, someone has to supervise you to make sure you stay safe while cooking like that… it’s bound to be a hard job but I’m pretty certain I’m up to the challenge...”

[babyboywilson]

what do you think happens when wilson gets home and house is just standing ominously in the doorway looking like he has horrible news only to say: i need another prescription (is this too weird someone please stop me)

wilson’s had a long day. a day of complicated surgeries and upset families that left him feeling drained. house had left the hospital hours ago, and wilson hated those kinds of days where they couldn’t leave together. he’d expected to come home and collapse on the couch next to house, share some leftover pizza and beer with some monster trucks on the tv, and then get laid. what he wasn’t expecting when he opened the door was house standing in the doorway of the bedroom with a look on his face that sent a racing shiver of fear down wilson’s spine. something was wrong. really wrong. “what’s happened?” wilson asked without preamble, dropping his bag by the front door. with the way his day had been going, he expected the worst. cuddy had finally had enough of house’s shit and had fired him. one of their friends was hurt or even dead. house was about to break up with him. his brain jumped to worse and worse scenarios as he took in house’s posture against the doorframe; how he was slumped against the wood with a pained hunch to his shoulders and he was shifting all his weight off his bad leg. house didn’t answer immediately, and wilson moved closer. “house, what’s wrong?” wilson pushed. house hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket and motioning for wilson’s hand. wilson reached out on instinct, palm outstretched towards house. an empty pill bottle was deposited into wilson’s hand. “i need a new prescription,” house said. glancing down at his hand, wilson eyed the empty bottle then flickered his gaze up to house. “that’s it? no one’s died. you’re not breaking up with me. you just need more vicodin,” wilson scoffed, raising an eyebrow at house. “that is an emergency. i’m in pain,” house hissed, limping over to the couch. shaking his head, wilson moved back to his bag, picked it up, and reached inside for the extra bottle of vicodin he kept in there for instances like this. shaking out 2 pills, he deposited them into house’s waiting hand, lingering for a couple extra seconds with his fingertips grazing against house’s wrist. “i’ll write you a script tomorrow.” house quickly swallowed the pills and seemed to settle back against the couch in relief, offering wilson a genuine half-smile. “thank you,” house said, closing his eyes and patting the spot on the couch next to him. wilson sank down next to house with an exhausted sigh, dropping his head back against the couch cushions and closing his own eyes. “i ordered pizza. extra pepperoni and bell peppers for you. it’ll be here in 5,” house said, his hand settling on wilson’s thigh. wilson cracked one eye open, a smile of his own tugging at his lips as he dropped his head against house’s shoulder. “thank you,” wilson said, echoing house’s gratitude from earlier with a kiss against house’s jawline.

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G Dragon x Reader

Summary: Steve, Ji-yong and another morning after. But this time words are spoken that can't be taken back.

Warnings: MORE Angst but this time it ends a little differently. I hope you guys enjoy! I'm having a blast writing this fic and so glad you guys are enjoying it. Please leave a like or a reblog if you enjoy and be sure to follow for updates on the story. Thank you for reading and for your support!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3- Beauty in the Mess

You listen to the phone ring, ring and ring some more. Why were you calling Steve exactly? One reason, you wanted to take your mind off Ji-yong and whatever her name is.

“Hello,” his tired but sober, for once, voice answers.

“H-hey,” you choke out.

“Y/n?” he asks as he sits up in bed, “What’s up?” he’s more alert now.

“If I text you the address, can you come over?” You had that feeling in the pit of your stomach that this wasn’t a good idea, but you were too hurt and frustrated to care.

“Uh, yeah just let me know where you are.”

“Ok, and bring condoms.” You say and hang up on him. Your stomach is in knots but you don’t care. You want something Ji-yong clearly isn’t going to give you and you aren’t exclusive. He said you could bring men home, so you’re going to.

You walk out of your room again and you stop and listen for a moment, there’s silence in his room and you figure he’s asleep.

“Safe till morning,” you think as you walk to the living room and watch outside the window. No need in him knocking and possibly waking up Ji. Once he gets there you let him in and put your finger to your lips making the shh motion. You lead him to your room wearing nothing but a long t shirt and your underwear.

“I uh, brough these,” he says showing you the box of condoms and you take the box and throw it aside to be used later.

“What’s going on?” his face is full of confusion and while you wish it was Ji-yong you were about to kiss, its not. But hey, he isn’t the only one who can use his imagination. You bring Steve’s neck down to your level as you capture his lips in a kiss filled with nothing but lust.

“Y/n,” he tries to say against your lips. You pull back and slip the t shirt off. You place his hands on you, knowing how to work him like a fiddle.

“Don’t talk, just make me feel good,” you say as you kiss him again. Did he make you feel good, eh not exactly. Kind of. Not the way Ji-yong did. His touch wasn’t heaven, it wasn’t electric or passionate, it was needy, rushed and selfish. He didn’t elicit the same noises or desires in you; being with Ji-yong really had spoiled you. But you honestly didn’t care as long as you got off.

“Does that feel good baby.”

“Don’t talk,” you said as you kissed him again, trying to think of Ji instead of him.

“Fuck.” You moan out.

“I thought you said we have to be quiet.”

“What did I say about talking?” you swat his face. Did you exaggerate a few noises? Of course, I mean, what good would this be if Ji-yong didn’t know anything.

Once the activity was done, you both lay there in bed heaving.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathes as he tries to cuddle you. You get up before he can fully embrace you and quietly pick up your shirt and underwear putting it back on. You honestly needed a shower after that.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Want some company,” his voice is suggestive.

“No, Steve,” your voice is filled with annoyance and you twist your face in disgust.

You turn on the hot water once you get in the bathroom, the hottest you can stand, and slip in feeling it hit and sting your skin. Tears unintentionally stream down your cheeks. You hadn’t processed the stress any of this had put you under until this moment.

“What is wrong with me,” you sobbed quietly. 9 months ago, your life was so different. Your boyfriend was decent and working, Ji-yong was just your best friend and life was smooth. Now, your relationship with your best friend is more complicated than ever and your deadbeat ex-boyfriend was waiting in your bed, after he slept with another girl! You huff as you scrub your body, trying to make it feel clean after what you had just done. You notice a spot that looks like it wants to bleed and you stop before too much damage is done.

You walk back into your bedroom after your shower and see Steve is all ready asleep. Aftercare was never his thing. He liked to fuck and then sleep. In that particular order. You roll your eyes as you get in bed, thinking once again about how Ji-yong would be treating you.

He’d clean you up first and foremost. Ask if you were ok and then he’d hold you like if he didn’t, you’d fall apart; like he was some kind of glue for you. He’d tell you how good you did, how beautiful you are, and how special he thinks you are too. He didn’t treat it as a casual thing despite the arrangement, he treated it like you were his lady, because in those moments you were.

Before you know it, morning comes and you hear the sound of shouting and pots and pans clanging together. Your eyes widen as everything rushes back to memory. You look over in a futile effort to see if Steve is with you still. Of course not.

With your emotions clear, last night’s decisions are weighting heavy on you. You crawl out of bed and sigh before opening the door.

“Get the fuck out!” you hear Ji’s voice filled with rage.

“I swear to God if you fucking touched her,” you couldn’t see him in the hallway but you knew his face was red. He’d never sounded so angry.

“Look man she called me,” Steve says. Steve was good at covering his own ass, even if it was true.

“So you fucking came? Did she not make it clear she was done with you sorry ass?” you couldn’t help but revel in the fact that he was defending you, despite the tiff, it was really sexy.

“Well, considering the fact that moaned because of me last night, no,” you could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice and you heard a glass break.

“Fucking shit, man.” You hear Steve say and you walk around the corner. Your vison is filled with a trashed kitchen and Ji-yong has a pot in one hand and a knife in the other. Steve is hunched over, more cuts and bruises, you particularly notice one to his eye. That must’ve happened before you woke up.

“What the actual fuck, y/n?” Ji-yong asks angrily, looking at you.

“I,” your voice is hoarse.

“You want me to, in the middle of making breakfast this morning, hear my shower turn on and see your naked shrimp dick boyfriend in it when I go to see if you’re up?” You catch a glimpse of his hand and see that it’s bloody, but it’s not cut. It’s Steve’s blood.

“I’m just,” Steve points to the door and he limps past you. You rub the back of your neck with your eyes closed. Fuck. He turns his attention to you and you can see the absolute rage on his face. He was hurt, don’t get it twisted, but he was also pissed someone touched what was his, even if he’d been the one to start it.

“I mean, really? What the hell were you thinking? He was drunk the last time you seen him and he tried,” he trails off closing his eyes and he slams the pot and knife down as he remembers the sight of you in danger. It makes his blood boil.

“I,”

“Actually, I don’t fucking care,” he puts his hand up. You were now to the point of being the one upset.

“Hold on,” you shout as he walks past you still in his robe.

“First of all, you weren’t even supposed to be here today. You told me you were recording today.”

“Yeah, I canceled. Didn’t realize I had to run every little plan by you,” he turns to you his eyes full of bitterness.

“Second,” you put up two fingers, “You don’t get to be mad at me with the way I chose to proceed after the bull shit you pulled last night. Not mention, third,” you hold up another finger, “You said we weren’t exclusive and you,” you point your finger to his chest, “brought someone else home first. So excuse me for thinking I could do the same thing.” You cross your arms and put your weight on your hip.

Ji-yong’s jaw clenches and unclenches multiple times

“I didn’t bring home someone who treated me like shit and broke my heart,” he seethes.

“No, you’re right,” you say too calm, “I live with a guy who can that just fine.”

 He goes silent for a moment, the air between, you would swear you could suffocate in the silence.

“Was he better than me?” you’re caught off guard with his question. His voice is so low and calm it almost frightened you.

“Was she better than me?” you retort. You turn to grab a waffle off the plate in the kitchen when you hear him mumble it.

“No.”

You freeze, with a piece of waffle in your mouth, you turn a look at him, still standing there in his robe and bed head. He looked almost like a little kid as he looked at the ground. You walk over to him.

“What,” you ask as you swallow the waffle bite. He sighs and rubs his hands together before admitting this small truth to you once again.

“No, jagiya, she wasn’t better than you,” he’s looking deep into your eyes. Your face softens slightly.

“Really?” He nods his head with pursed lips.

“So tell me, was he better than me?” his lips twitch slightly. You look at the ground and tell him the truth.

“No,” your voice comes out shy and quiet.

“Mm,” he hums for a minute before coming closer to you.

“Did you at least have a nice time,” his tone is slightly cocky and you want to tear away any pride you can of his.

“Yeah, I did,” you say short and snippy, “I think you should change your mind about the studio today. It’s probably best you aren’t around me.” You say matter of factly. You start walking back to your room. And that’s when his girl from last night comes trapsing out in nothing but a bra and panties. How the heck did she not freak out over the whole ordeal?

“Oh, sorry I was just uh, oh, there you are,” she smiles shyly as she walks by you and gives Ji-yong a good morning kiss. Well actually she practically sticks her tongue down her throat.

“So are we going to spend in the day in bed like we talked about? It’s getting lonely in there,” she giggles. Ji-yong glances your way with sorrowful look at your rage is once again activated. He really had the nerve to get mad at you and she was why he wasn’t going to record? To be with some girl you were sure he didn’t know the name of.

“But Ji-yongie you promised,” you stand there shamelessly listening.

“Not today, I have something I have to do,” his eyes flit to you, “ I’ll get you an uber home.” She pouts and your fists are balled at your side. You go to your room and slam the door.

Ji-yong knew he screwed up, bad, and he wasn’t willing to leave it like this. You two hadn’t fought like this, ever. You two never really did fight, unless it was playful, but that was before your feelings, and bodies, intertwined.

He gives the blonde, who he still can’t recall her name, a kiss on the cheek as he sends her off in his uber. You walk out of your room in your clothes for the day, ready to get to work on the painting you’ve been working on. You catch him staring at you from the entry hall by the front door.

You walk into the small studio and give it a moment. You can’t risk Ji-yong walking in on your artwork. You were painting a picture of you and him, only it was becoming more abstract, much like your relationship. It started off as two people, you and him essentially, but as emotions came up and then got buried and the chaos of the last 48 hours came about, the picture began to have splatters of paint, lines through the middle of it. He’s painted in red and orange, signifying passion and love, what you felt for him. You were painted in colors of blue and gray, signifying your bottled-up emotions and the heartbreak you’re beginning to feel is inevitable.

Ji-yong pads down the hallway, not sure of what to say, how to make it right or what would happen next, but he knew he cared about you too much to not try and talk to you about it. See he never really slept with that girl, she did some things, but he never touched her. He couldn’t, she wasn’t you. That’s why Steve hurt so bad, he knew you’d slept with him, and you did it because of what you thought he did with the girl he brought home. He gently opens the door and shuts it behind him. He see’s you standing in front of a gorgeous painting, staring at it.

“Wow,” you grab at your chest as you gasp. You don’t turn around, too anxious to move.

“It’s beautiful,” he says coming up behind you.

“You weren’t supposed to see it,” you move to put it away but he tugs you back, your back hitting his chest.

“Well, now I have,” he says quietly. He feels something wet his arm as it drapes around your midsection.

“Nae sarang,” he whispers lovingly in your ear. You grit your teeth for a moment.

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you say you turn to him, your tears being freely released. He shoots his hands up in mock surrender but you aren’t done.

“You really are a jackass, you know that? You really fucking are. I mean, you sit here and treat me like shit, leave me after last night and then go out and find some broad to fuck because I beg you for it?”

“I told you why what happened yesterday did.”

“Oh my God, Ji so I laughed. I laughed because I thought the idea was funny because of how fucked up our situation is!” Your voice echoes in the room. He nods his head slowly.

“And then you think you can just trapse in here, and act like I’m yours because you said she wasn’t a better fuck than me.” You move your hands wildly now out of anger. Maybe you should’ve been the one painted in red.

“Just go, get out so I can work,” you say with a sigh as you turn to grab your paint.

“What’s the red line for?” he asks curiosity getting the better of him.

“For the rift between us. It cuts us at our core because our relationship is fractured, Ji. Whether we want to believe that or not, it’s broken. And much like the paint on this canvas, it may be that way forever.” You explain with your back turned. There’s no way you could face him and say this. You don’t see the depression that twists on his face. The way his heart breaks to hear your words. Yeah he messed up, but he didn’t know he had hurt you this bad. This was supposed to be a casual thing for you.

“Y/n” he tries to come up to you, to hold you, to tell you that you can still fix it, but you shove him away from you.

“I think I’m going to need to move out.” You mumble.

“Listen, I know I screwed up, but,” he tries to reason with you, he regrets his choices from last night more than he ever thought he would. If he’d have known losing you is what it would cost him, he never would’ve done any of this. Yet he still can’t bring himself to be vulnerable with you, not completely.

“Ji-yong, get away from me,” you say through clenched teeth. He sighs and walks out.

You hear him slam the door to his room and you blast your music through the speakers and begin painting.

What you don’t see are the tears he lets flow. If he’d never of slept with you that night, if he would’ve kept control of himself you two wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Fuck!” you hear him yell over the music and despite your anger you can’t help but go check on him, you’re mad but you still love him. You stand outside his door and gently tap your knuckles against it.

“Ji,” you say gently. He doesn’t open the door. You turn the nob and to your surprise he’s laying on his bed. The one he laid in with her not 12 hours earlier. A picture of what they could’ve looked like tangled together enters your mind and you force it away. You don’t say anything, you just lay with him, putting your hand around his body, pressing him to you.

“Don’t leave, please,” his voice is hoarse, barely coming out above a whisper. He closes his eyes, silently begging you.

“Ji, this isn’t healthy for either one of us.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it,” he turns over to face you and that’s when you see it. The brokenness he’d been hiding. The pain at the thought of you leaving, at the thought of having lost you.

“It’s not that I want you to do anything, I just don’t think we can handle this. But at the same time things can’t go back to way they were.” You absentmindedly place a hand on his cheek and he closes his eyes, reveling in your touch.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he scoots closer to you, too close. Your mouths are inches from each other, your foreheads are touching, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

“Ji, we,” the tension is making your head spin as you notice his not so subtle staring at your lips.

“Oh, damn it,” you say in defeat as you pull him to you and your lips collide in a beautiful eruption of fireworks. He pulls you to him, pulling you on top of him. You separate to assault his jawline and neck. His breaths are short and pant like, his head spins from the chaos of the last few days and your touch. How the two of you could ever truly recover he wasn’t sure.

 You open his robe and trail kisses down his bare chest, stopping to nip at his skin every now and again. As you trail kisses down his stomach you see her face, again, and you stop. You look at him and he can see the change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong,”

“I can’t stop picturing it.” You move off of him and back to the side.

“I didn’t really sleep with her,” he says shyly and you shoot your brows up and look at him.

“What?”

“I mean she did some stuff but I never actually touched her,” his face is slightly red. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or more pissed.

“So what the hell? You just wanted me to think you slept with her to piss me off? Make me jealous or something?”

“No, I,” he rubs his hands down his face. Once again, an awkward silence fills the room.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says after a minute of stillness.

“I don’t want to go, Ji, but I can’t keep getting my heart broken.”

“What do you mean? How is your heart getting broken if we’re just casual.”

“Because,” you freeze before anything is said you can’t take back.

“Because,” you start again, “Even if it’s casual, we’re just using each other here. That’s fucking painful.”

“Like you used Steve last night,” he quirks a brow.

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, “You did the same thing with, who was she?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Exactly, I can’t take being used by you.”

“By me?”

“Yeah, it hurts, it stings it makes me,” your chest is heaving harder now.

“I just can’t do it, Ji-yong. I thought I could. I really did.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says trying to pull you close.

“I don’t want to lose you, but I have to think of myself. Hell I’m the only one thinking of me, here.”

“Hold on, that’s not true. I was trying to wine and dine you, make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“You did it because you wanted sex, you wanted my body, Ji-yong. I know that all ready. Dinner isn’t required when you aren’t going to date someone.

“Are you saying that’s what you want? A date?” he ducks his head to peer into your eyes and you quickly glance away.

“I have a painting to finish,” you mumble and get up off the bed.

“Y/N,” he stops you from leaving. He pauses and takes a deep breath.

“Will you go out with me tonight?”

“Ji-yong, don’t do,”

“I’m serious. If a date is what you want, a date is what you’ll have. No sex, no strings, just a romantic evening. I’ll plan the whole thing.”

“Don’t do this to keep me from leaving,”

“Yeoja agi, I’d sell everything I own and give up my career to keep you here.”

“Do you even want to date me or is it just a casual thing?”

If you enjoyed and would like to support me, buy me a coffee

“Y/n,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m crazy about you.” You look at him stunned.

Tags: @loveesiren @natalicss @mashtatosworld @nerdydoll-com

[ann-writes-universes]

Archangel (AzrielxReader) REMASTER Pt. 4

A/N: Annnndddd the next parts will be NEW. Thank you all again, from the deepest parts of me <3

W/C: IDK prob like 4.3k again.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Violence (As always let me know if I forgot anything.)

“So you’ve made progress with her?”

“Something like that…”

“I wouldn’t call it progress, Amren.”

“Shut up Azriel,” Amren spit in reply “She’s gotten better than when we started a month ago.”

“I worry about her being in that cabin alone.” Rhysand spoke from his desk, his hands folded under his chin. A crease had taken up permanent residence in between his brows since the beginning of this discussion with his friends and It was growing deeper the more they argued over the Beddor sister.

“We are with her nearly every day, Rhysand.” Azriel reminded him softly from his spot by the door. He leaned against the wall, lazily twirling Truthteller in his left hand.

“And when we aren’t, she writes us or bakes. It’s not like she’s going insane out there.” Amren chided, pulling her legs beneath her in the chair she sat in before Rhysand’s desk. She was staring him down, willing him to listen to her.

“Yes, but Feyre…”

“Feyre is not (y/n), Rhysand.” Azriel butted in, promptly stopping his motions with his blade to stare his brother down.

“Yes, I know.” Rhysand swallowed, narrowing his gaze on Azriel’s features. As always, they were guarded, hard to read. “But she worries.”

“If time is what the girl wants, give it to her.” Amren concluded, bracing herself on the arms of the chair as she made to stand up and leave. With a singular motion of his hand Rhysand dismissed her idea and had her settling back in her seat.

“Seal the room Az.” And with those words, a thick wall of shadows had encapsulated the room and all threes’ mental shields had been snapped into place.

“With it becoming increasingly clear that all three of them, gained something from the cauldron, I worry that Hybern will come after them. The cabin is safe but Feyre wants (y/n) here, for her own peace of mind,” He cleared his throat then and shifted uncomfortably in his seat “I feel like it would be good for yours as well, Brother.”

The males’ eyes met and Azriel’s jaw tightened. Amren glanced between the two of them, her eyes slowly widening.

“I didn’t even smell it on you Az.” She whispered, twisting her body to face him more fully. He was nervously flipping the blade around now, an emotion that didn’t suit his collected exterior.

“That’s because it hasn’t been accepted.” Rhysand spoke, his voice soft.

“Are you going to tell her?”

Azriel looked to the floor and sheathed his knife, a crease akin to Rhysand’s taking place on his face. After a moment he shook his head softly and ran his hands through his hair, he was agitated.

“No. No, I can’t.”

“You saw how that plan of action went for me… Feyre hardly spoke to me when I finally told her.” It was a gentle reminder from the High lord, but it irritated the spymaster none the less.

“Feyre and (y/n) are different, Rhysand. She has hardly accepted the fact that she’s a fae with capabilities we hardly understand. How do you think she would take it if I told her she was cosmically tied to me by the hands of a creator she doesn’t even believe in?”

Amren and Rhysand both went lax at Azriel’s words, understanding marked their features but a thick air of unease had settled over the room. Shadows picked nervously at Azriel’s shoulders, informing him that the other residents of the townhouse had grown anxious at the trios prolonged absence.

“Feyre wants to know what’s going on Rhys.”

“And I will tell her, but this is your decision to make.”

“No. Its not. Its (y/n)’s.”

Rhysand nodded grimly at his brother’s words and with a sigh he leaned back in his chair, twisting it to face the window that led out to the courtyard beyond. The snow was melting with the fast-approaching Spring and Elain’s flowers were struggling to bloom.

“She needs to know what kind of danger she is potentially in. If Hybern can track the couldron’s magic he will do everything in his power to get the three of them back.” Amren spoke, her eyes were distantly trained on the carpet, her hands tapping a mindless melody on the wooden chair’s arm. “I think it would be smart to train her in combat.”

“Absolutely not.” Azriel snapped, pushing away from the wall he leaned on.

“No… she’s right Az. We will do everything in our power to keep her safe, but war is coming wether we like it or not. Her magic is young and from what you both have told me, her ability to harness it is 30/70.” Rhysand’s eyes were distant too, mulling over the melting snow and muddy grass.

“I don’t think she’s ready to be thrown into a ring with Cas and taught to fight. She’s done enough of that.”

“And what happened to it being her decision?” Amren whispered, her gaze finally finding the wide-eyed stare of the Shadowsinger. “What about it being hers?”

---

The fire crackled in the hearth, warming the cabin and casting lazy shadows on the living room. From your spot on the couch, you watched with little intrigue as the light flickered about the room.

Joining in with the ember’s glow was a small white light, that zipped about and searched the cabin readily. From the outside, darkened windows would light up from within briefly before going dark once more. You watched this little light with a soft smile before calling it back to your palm, relishing in the warmth it created there before dying out.

“Impressive.” Amren cooed, happily stretched out on a chase lounge, mindlessly sipping the tea you had made for her when she had arrived moments before.

“Thank you, not sure how it’s useful but it’s kind of cool.” You replied, letting your gaze find hers finally. She was a picture of relaxation, splayed across the furniture, sipping her tea and twirling her short hair with a ringed finger.

“What is it Amren?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” You sat up a little, shifting the blanket over your legs “But you’ve never come out here so late.” She smiled tightly at your words and sat up herself, bracing her forearms on her knees as she stared at you.

“How would you feel about coming back to Velaris?”

It caught you off guard, and she knew as much from the way your face blanked and your eyes shot to the fire once more.

“I know you still don’t feel ready but-“

“Im not.”

“(Y/n)…”

“Amren. I have enjoyed you and Azriel’s company. I have appreciated Rhysand and Feyre’s generosity but a part of me being able to heal is not having to watch them every day.” Your hands were fiddling with the frayed edges of the blanket, your mind slowly beginning to drift to a far away place.

“I understand, and I wouldn’t be asking you to return if I didn’t feel it necessary for your safety.”

Your stomach flipped.

“What the hell are you talking about?”                                                                                      Amren sighed and looked to the flames, running a delicate hand over the linen fabric of her pants. How was she not cold?

“When you and the Archeron sisters were… made. Hybern didn’t anticipate for the three of you to take things from the cauldron. Rhysand worries that Hybern will try and track your magic and…” She trailed off, a tight line replacing her easy-going smile.

“And what Amren?”

“And reclaim it.”

The finality in her words turned your spine into steel. With shaky hands you tossed the blanket aside and stood. Your hands rubbed over your face and suddenly your mind was racing with millions of questions.

“Will he?”

“Hmm?”

“Will Hybern try and take it from me?”

“We don’t know for sure, but Fe- Rhysand thinks it would be safer for you in Velaris, its impossible to penetrate those wards and its closer to us if anything were to happen.”

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest. Mulling over the possibilities and the smart thing to do.

No part of you wanted to be surrounded by seawater and concrete again and yet, the possibility of being in that house, watching as your dream was lived by someone other than you seemed just as suffocating. Amren watched as you paced the room, giving you time to think and praying that Azriel wasn’t freezing to death wherever he was outside.

You had summoned that little light again, and it was flitting nervously about the room. Soft plink, plink, plinks sounding each time it careened with a window and bounced off of it. Summoning it back to you, you let it dance between your fingers, grounding yourself in the warmth it produced.

“I’ll go.”

“You will?”

“I’ll go.”

“Rhysand has offered for you to stay in the house of Wind. It’s away from the city and large enough for you to have privacy. He has also asked if you would be willing to train in self-defense with Cassian.” Amren was standing now, watching you with a soft smile. It was encouraging, bordering on pleading.

You nodded your head and urged the light to die away in your palm, the warmth quickly receding.

“When will we leave?”

“Tonight.”

--

The House of Wind was breathtaking.

Cassian had flown you in, and you had been met with Rhysand who gave you a private tour of the luxurious quarters you would be living in. It was open, airy, and entirely unlike the cramped space you had envisioned when Amren explained that it was built into a mountain.

That little revelation had nearly made you change your mind, though now you were glad you hadn’t.

“There are sparring grounds on the roof where Cassian will train with you. Nothing too insane I promise.” Rhysand chuckled, guiding you back to the main living space. Jasmine and clean linen permeated the air, and the warming breeze of the spring was drifting through the open windows.

“No one else is staying here, correct?”

“No one who will bother you. Cassian lives here year round, and per Elain’s request Lucien has been sent here for some… distance.”

You nodded and sunk into a chair in the living area the tour had stopped in. Rhysand perched on the arm of a chair opposite of you and folded his hands on a knee. His brows were furrowed as he watched your eyes roam over the room, your shoulders slumped and your teeth mulling over a hang nail anxiously.

“Whats on your mind?”

And when you caught his gaze a breath snagged in your throat. It looked the same as it had that night in your family home. Concern, if not pity, was flashing in those violet eyes and you looked away from them, a hard knot forming in the center of your chest. Clearing your throat, you shook your head and forced a smile. It felt out of place, plastic on your features.

“Nothing. A bit tired and overwhelmed is all, thank you for the tour, I think I will be going to bed now.”

He didn’t push the subject any further, but as you stood and made your way to the room, he had deemed yours, you felt a pair of eyes boring holes into your back.

--

 “Please quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Azriel replied, lazily leaned against a rocky wall in the hallway.

“Like Im some kind of four eyed freak.” You grumbled, shoving past him towards the stairs. Your hair was braided neatly and the trousers and top you wore were tightly fitted, a sharp contrast to the oversized knits you had been sporting since your arrival in the Night court.

‘Not having fabric in your way is more conducive to noobie training’ Cassian had said the night before. Though part of you felt as though it was some plot to see if you were actually shaped like something other than a worn out cardigan.

“Ive just never seen you so….”

“Defeated?”

“Encouraged. I have never seen you so encouraged.”

You stopped, a foot on the stairs and turned halfway to face him. He had followed you, light on his feet as ever and was stopped a few paces away from the stairs himself. His brow was creased and those almond-colored eyes were searching yours, for what you weren’t sure.

“Azriel, what the fuck does that even mean.” You replied, a brow raised.

“Just that you don’t look entirely miserable about a five AM training session with the biggest Illyrian known to man. You look almost… excited.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, hyper aware of his shadow as you began to ascend the stairs to the roof. Excited was certainly not the word to describe the feeling you had as you were met with the gentle glow of the rising sun and the bright beam of Cassian’s smile.

Terrified would be a better term to fit the current mood.

“Have you ever played with Knives before?” Cassian questioned from his place on the roof.

Yes, terrified.

“This ought to be great.” Azriel grumbled, moving to his seat outside of the sparring ring. He was meant to mediate, make sure you didn’t get killed. You had thought that notion absolutely absurd when he brought it up first thing in the hallway, but as Cassian unsheathed a knife from his thigh and turned his wolfish gaze on your frame, you stiffened.

Yes, terrified was a much better word.

“Do I look like someone who has played with Knives much?” You choked out, swallowing thickly. Had your throat been this dry all morning?

Cassian ran his eyes over you, no doubt taking in the absurdity of the way you looked. Some weight had begun to return to your frame, but by no means had your figure recovered from the past year. In comparison to the general you were tiny, fragile. His brows furrowed and his smirk loosened to a softened smile. Sighing he sheathed the knife and walked towards you, his hands on his hips. 

“No. No you dont.” He glanced at Azriel, who merely shrugged and leaned back in his chair, basking in the rising warmth of the morning sun. His wings were splayed behind him and his arms were folded tightly across his chest. “Thanks for the help, Brother.” 

You watched the two of them, your own arms crossed over your chest protectively. Cassian seemed to be weighing his options, trying to figure out how to teach you something when you knew absolutely nothing. His brows were furrowed tightly as he thought and he had taken up a position similar to yours, arms crossed over his chest, legs stanced as he leaned into his hip. 

You were growing antsy, anxious at the thought of being helpless in even such a docile situation. Azriel was in his own world, eyes closed and chest rising slower and slower. Great, you had bored him to sleep and Cassian looked pissed because this seemed to be wasting his time. 

With no further thought you shot forward, using the size difference between you and the general to snatch his sheathed weapon and duck away from his swinging arm, a violent habit encoded in his warrior brain. 

“What the fuck?!” He shouted as you crashed to the ground on your knees, clutching the blade in your left hand firmly. You were panting, absolutely in shock you had pulled that off. Cassian had spun towards you and was staring at you wide eyed. 

From his spot, Azriel opened a single eye and chuckled at the sight before shutting it once more. Standing, you dusted off your knees and handed the blade back. 

“Now. Please quit standing there and teach me something.” You huffed, resting your hands on your hips. Cassian stared down at you, the blade resting in his hand loosely. Spinning it back into place at his thigh he merely nodded and motioned for you to step into the ring. 

“Well little Beddor. We’ll start with defense since you apparently have a death wish.” 

–

Pain. 

Every fiber of your body ached and groaned as you walked down the stairs. It had been four hours of training on the roof, a “short” day Cassian had said. How he was so unfazed, trailing behind you, you were unsure. At some point he had discarded his shirt and the only sign he had even been outside was a slight glimmer of sweat on his toned chest. Azriel had stayed the entire time, watching, sleeping, and making comments on form and technique when he thought necessary. 

“You did well (Y/N).” Cassian spoke, clapping your shoulder with a firm hand. You winced at the impact but nodded and bid he and Azriel farewell before slinking to the safety of your room. All you wanted was to peel the sweat sticky clothing off of your body and run a bath. Every inch of your skin was caked in red dust from the roof and the grime was beginning to make your head spin. 

Halfway through stripping off your pants, shirt discarded in a corner, a knock sounded at your door. Before you had a chance to yell it was creaking open, had you even closed it all the way?

“(Y/N), Cass wanted to know if you needed any-” Azriel stopped speaking. Your spine was rigid. You were faced away from him, an arm crossed over your chest, the other clutching the top of your pants tightly. 

Slowly, you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to glance at him. He was halfway through the door, a hand on the handle and the other loosely hanging by his side. His wings were flared and his eyes were wide, nearly black from how blown his pupils were. He drug his eyes down your frame, every so slowly before dragging them upward once more. Swallowing thickly he shut his eyes tightly and turned his head towards the hallways. 

“Gods, Im sorry.” He choked out, moving to shut the door enough for you to have privacy. “Cass just wanted to know if you needed a poultice for soreness?” 

Cheeks heated to a new extreme, and hands shaking you turned away from the door and swallowed deeply. “Yes. That would be great. Thank you Azriel.” 

The spymaster didnt even deign a reply, he simply shut the door. Dropping your arms you let your pants fall to the floor and released a breath you were unaware you had been holding. 

–

“You walked in on her changing? So what. It was an accident Az.” Cass huffed, ducking away from his counterpart's swing. Azriel raised a brow and rolled away from the countering swing of the general’s leg. Catching his calf mid air, the spymaster stood and swept his partner to the ground. Chuckling when Cassian made impact and his breath was knocked clean from his chest. 

“Yes an accident but still…” Azriel panted, reaching out a hand to help him up. “I keep replaying it in my head.” 

“Well now you sound like a fucking creep.” Cassian countered, accepting the hand gratefully. Both males were sweating and panting like animals. The sun was baking the roof and their shirts had long been discarded. They had opted for hand to hand this training session, their weapons glimmering in the light, had been discarded as well. “She’s a pretty female, I’ll give her that. When was the last time you got some anyway Az? Maybe she’s the perfect outlet fo-” 

Azriel didn't even let him finish. All technique flew out the window and the shadowsinger lunged at his friend. The two males fell to the hard clay beneath and Cassian was firmly pinned beneath the press of Azriel’s knees. 

“Dont even fucking say it.” He growled. Cassian raised his arms above his head in submission and watched as Azriel stood, a brow raised. 

“What? I didnt mean anything by it, it was a joke.” Cassian sputtered, rising to his knees to catch his breath. Azriel was faced away from him, tugging his shirt on and strapping his blades back to his body. His shoulders were taught and any emotion once readable had been steeled away. “You act like she’s your-” 

Azriel cut his gaze towards his friend. There was a fire there that Cassian had not seen since they were children, fighting for their lives in the war camps. And then it dawned on him, his shoulders slumped and his mouth fell open in shock. “Brother- how long have you known?” 

Azriel turned away from Cassian once more and busied himself with the buckle of his belt. “Since the continent.” Was the only answer he gave before making his way towards the stairs. Cassian wasted no time in following him, haphazardly grabbing his shirt and belongings as he passed them. 

“Does she know?” He pressed, struggling to keep up with the brisk pace Az had set. “Are you going to tell her?” 

Azriel spun around to face him at the door to the stairs, a hand raised in his face. 

“No Cas. I’m not going to tell her. And I will fucking kill you if you do.” 

“I would never.” He spoke, the males shared a look before Azriel merely nodded and made his descent. 

Cas watched him leave, his shoulders slumped and his items hanging loosely in his hands. A small light zipped into his view, and bobbed there. His brows creased and he reached for it, only to be burned upon contact. 

“What the fuck?” He whispered, stepping towards it. As he approached it slowly made its way towards the stairs before blinking out of existence entirely. 

–

You were sitting up in bed, legs crossed and hands pressed firmly into your knees. Eyes closed, forehead creased, you had never focused on that little light harder. In the cabin, it had been able to provide you glimpses of what it had seen, like highlight reels from the outside world. Now, as it made its way through the House of Wind you practiced grasping onto that information. 

Focusing hard enough you gathered that it could show you, and tell you. You heard the conversations of the servants as it zipped through the kitchens, the whispers of the maids as it tiptoed through faelights in different rooms, and the clanging of metal as it approached the roof. 

“Brother- how long have you known?”

“Since the continent.”

“No Cas. I’m not going to tell her. And I will fucking kill you if you do.” 

“I would never.”

Your eyes snapped open and that little light reappeared before you. It bobbed and spun in its place, like a dog happy to see its master after a long day’s separation. With a thought it blinked out of existence and you stared at where it had been without really seeing. He had known what? Had deigned not to tell you something? Azriel was your friend. Yes that much had been made clear over the weeks he had been with you at the cabin. The jokes and the conversations held in the safety of that wooden dwelling between the two of you and Amren. And yet he was hiding something that seemed important from you. 

Swallowing thickly you stood from the bed and made your way to the desk. Scribbling quickly onto a piece of paper you concentrated on willing it away into the awaiting hands of its receiver. When it disappeared into that mysterious universal fold you sunk into the desk chair and stared out the window. Awaiting its return. 

–

It was noon the following day when that tricky little spot in the universe reopened and your reply floated lazily onto the foot of your bed. Hair still sopping wet from your bath you ran forward and clutched it in your palms. Your slick skin smeared the ink but the letters were legible. 

“Mistress Beddor, I am delighted to hear from you. Smart of you to call in your favor, please allow me a week's time to find everything I can. Until then I will send a formal invitation  to  Rhysand requesting you visit my court. Best wishes until we meet - H.” 

Amren had made it clear in her lessons how guarded the High Lord’s were about their abilities, and yet you remembered the information she shared. Helion was the Spellcleaver and his court was famed for knowing a little about a lot of things. 

Azriel and Rhysand’s inner circle may have decided to keep things from you but Helion owed you a favor. If he could help you find out anything about this new life of yours, you were damn sure going to cash in on the favor he owed. 

You dressed quickly and made your way to the roof where you knew Cassian would be.

–

“You want me to take you where?” Cassian huffed between blows, a young male was currently sparring with him, exerting all force against the General who was barely breaking a sweat. You rocked back and forth on your toes, hands clasped behind your back. 

“To town. I would take myself but…” You trailed off and gestured to your back where you lacked a very useful set of wings. Cassian pursed his lips and thought momentarily before nodding. With one swing of his arm the young male before him was flat on the ground gasping for air. Cassian chuckled at the sight before exiting the sparring ring. 

You raised your brows in question as you watched his partner struggle back to his feet. Cassian only shrugged and pulled his shirt back on. 

“What?” He smiled, raising a brow to mimic your expression. You smiled tightly and shrugged it off. “Why do you want to go to town?” He threw the question over his shoulder as he made his way downstairs, highly aware of you hot on his trail. You only smiled and shook your head. 

“I'm feeling- adventurous I suppose.” 

“Okay then…” He muttered. He rounded the turn towards the living quarters and stopped momentarily, effectively having you run into his broad backside. “If you’ll give me five minutes lady Beddor, I am going to clean up and then I will take you to town.”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, watching as he disappeared into his room. You were thankful he agreed to take you, but you couldn't help replaying the conversation you had overheard. What in gods’ name did he know that he wasn’t telling you?

Patience

A small voice in your head commanded. 

All will be seen in due time.

–

“I'm still confused as to why you wanted to come down here.” Cassian spoke up from around a bite of his food. He was strolling slowly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye as you took in the sights of Velaris. You were wide eyed and slack jawed like a child in a candy store. 

The music, the smells, the colors… It had assaulted your senses and overloaded you in a way that you had not been overwhelmed since Under The Mountain. But this- this overbearing feeling was different from the sweat and death of that place. Velaris was air, and light, and life. It was exploding with so much life and hope that it had you nearly misty eyed. Why had you not ventured here sooner? 

“I was curious. A little sick of looking at it through a window.” You replied, turning your head as you walked to face him. He nodded and looked forward, shoving his now food-free hands into his pockets. His expression was unfocused, like he had something on his mind he was afraid to voice. 

“What is it?” You prodded, gently nudging his arm with your elbow. 

“What do you mean?”

“You want to ask me something. So ask.” 

He sighed and trained his gaze on the street before you, gently guiding you out of the way of oncoming children who were giggling and chasing a ball. 

“What was it like… down there? Rhys- he doesnt… He doesnt talk about it with us.” His voice was hushed, as though he was scared to talk about it too loudly. You swallowed thickly and looked to the Sidra. 

“It was, without a question in my mind, the worst thing I will ever experience in my life.” You began, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “I went there as a girl, and left as some twisted form of a woman.” 

Cassian’s jaw tightened, and the two of you came to a stop on a bridge over the Sidra, watching the water move and the lights twinkle on her surface. He was silent, letting you tell a story you had yet to utter to anyone but your nightmares. 

“I uhm… I kind of forced myself to disappear I think. I blocked a lot of it out, prayed it was a nightmare.” You chuckled then, an action that had him slicing his eyes in your direction. “Sometimes I still think I’m gonna wake up in my bed to my little brother screaming at me to wake up and play.” 

Cassian smiled tightly and spoke softly, “You had a brother?” 

Your brows creased and you nodded with a smile, as if he should have known, “Oh yeah… yeah I had one.” And somehow saying it that way, like it was in the past cut you deeper than a knife. You were crying, the bite of the air stinging your wet cheeks. 

“His name was Adam. He wasn't even ten yet- just a little boy. But uh… Yeah. Yeah, I had a brother.” And there was some kind of sick finality in the way you said it that had Cassian slumping and leaning his weight backwards against the bridge railing. Your elbows were propped against it, gaze trained on the water below. 

“Tell me about him.” He whispered, and when you looked at him his eyes were intent on your own. Genuinely curious about who Adam was, who he was to you.

You laughed, a broken noise cut with a sob. But you were grateful, grateful someone was asking about him. Who he was. And so, as the citizens of Velaris bustled by and the afternoon wasted away to evening you told Cassian about a little boy who’s birthday fell on the Winter Solstice, his pony named Chelsie, and his dream to become the captain of a great Naval ship one day. And Cassian listened as you cried, laughed with you, and while you may have been imagining it… it felt like he was mourning too. Grieving the loss of a little boy he had never met but now knew through stories.

He had a secret to keep, that you were sure of, but you were grateful to him at this moment for allowing you to remember your sibling in the way he should have been remembered. Not in the way that Amarantha had wanted you to remember him. 

You were giggling over a particularly fond memory when your quaint disposition was interrupted by billowing shadows and a soft wind. Azriel stood, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed on Cassian who fell silent and tight lipped upon his friend’s arrival. 

“Rhysand requests your presence at the town house.” He spoke, glancing between both you and Cassian. 

“We will be there shortly, Brother.” Cassian replied

“Immediaetly.” Azriel’s words were clipped, drawn tight as a bowstring. He relaxed when you smiled tightly and clapped your hands, relishing in the warmth that immediately flowed to your cold-stiff fingers. 

“Well then, escort me to the High Lord, boys.” 

–

Rhysand sat at his desk, a lamp softly illuminating the room in a warm glow. His legs were kicked up on the oak and his hands were clasped behind his head. He was the feline picture of relaxation when your trio entered his office. 

The curtains were pulled back and the windows open, the welcoming sounds of Velaris drifting on the breeze and filling the room. Upon your arrival he offered you a seat, one you gladly took, and motioned to his desk. 

A letter, golden as the sun, lay open on his desk. It's perfectly rounded wax seal had been torn neatly and its contents lay splayed on the surface. Azriel and Cassian had taken up twin positions on either side of the door, and a muscle was thrumming tightly in the Spymaster’s jaw. 

“It seems as though you are quite popular amongst our sister court.” Rhysand spoke, knocking his legs down and leaning forward in his seat to look at you. Feigning innocence you cocked a brow and leaned backwards in your seat, a picture of perfect confusion. 

Humming he drummed his fingers on his desk, “Helion has requested your presence in the Day court for a week, should you be willing to go.” You heard Azriel scoff and then the muffled sounds of a struggle as Cassian elbowed him deeply in the ribs. A quick look from Rhys and the noise settled. 

“For?” You questioned, keeping up with the game you had begun to play days ago. 

“That- I am not sure of. (Y/N)... I am not positive that this is the best idea.” He raised, leaning backwards in his seat once more. 

“Why not?”

Rhysand looked to Cassian and Azriel behind you and sighed deeply. 

‘You are seeking answers to questions you do not really want answered.’ 

His voice was echoing through your head, a quick glance at the men behind you confirmed they had not heard it. When you returned your gaze to Rhysand your brows were dropped and the demeanor you held was gone. 

“How do you know I don't want them answered?” You replied aloud, not quite sure how to accomplish the trick he had pulled. 

‘Because I know the answer, and you are not ready to hear it.’

He had audacity.

You nodded tightly and stood from your chair. Dusting imaginary dust from your pants you made for the door. Cassian and Azriel made way for you and with a hand on the knob you turned over your shoulder to look at Rhysand. 

“Tell Helion I will join him for the week.” Nodding curtly, he glanced between his brothers who looked utterly distraught. 

“And Rhysand?”

“Yes?”

“You don't get to decide what im ready for.”

You left then, keenly aware of the raised voices behind the door as you slammed it that raised for moments before the room was sealed. As you walked down the hall you slowed. Were you really ready for this? 

Answers, yes. Those you needed, craved. But a court entirely foreign to you? With a High Lord who “owed you a favor” but had been responsible (to some degree) for the death of your sister?... No. You could not think of that. Helion had the capabilities to help you, and was willing to try and figure this out for you. And he had been sorry. Remorse would never bring Clare back, would never change that final image of her hanging from a wall- but it softened the blow somehow. Made that pill easier to swallow when you thought of his pain, begging Amarantha not to make you watch. 

You would go to the Day Court, you would ruffle Helion’s feathers, and you would figure out what the fuck the Night Court was guarding so tightly. 

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice called from behind you. Elain was in a pale pink dress, hands crossed in front of her, a cautious smile on her pretty face. 

“Hi Elain.” It had been a long time since you had seen her. One? Two months? Something like that you were sure… 

“I didn't realize you were back.” She spoke, moving towards you slowly. You crossed your arms across your chest and nodded gently. The way she was approaching you like you were some kind of wounded animal made you want to profusely apologize for the scare you had given her all those weeks ago when you nearly took the house down to its foundation.

“Yes and No. I’m… Im not staying.” 

“Oh-”

“I leave for the Day court tomorrow.” You spoke quickly, afraid she would beg you not to leave. Something in the softness of her doe eyes made you think that request would be a hard one to say no to. 

Shock and confusion overtook her features, and as she opened her mouth to speak the door to Rhysand’s office flew open. Azriel stalked out and slammed it behind him, hardly making eye contact with you or Elain as he stormed down the hall, teaming with anger. Cassian and Rhysand emerged shortly after, wearing twin looks of defeat and exhaustion. 

“What happened?” Elain whispered, glancing between the two males. Rhysand waved it off and Cassian shook his head before looking at you. 

“Ready?” He questioned, practically begging to get the fuck out of that house. You nodded in reply and bid goodnight to Elain before following him out of the house. The flight back was quiet, Cassian’s mind was clearly preoccupied. You didn't mind the silence, finding solace in your own thoughts as you thought over the next week.

When you returned to your twin abode the male let you down gently on the balcony before trudging inside and promptly filling a crystal glass full of whiskey. You watched as he downed the shimmering liquid and replenished his glass. Keenly aware that you were watching, the general filled a second glass knuckle deep and motioned for you to take it. 

“(Y/N)...” 

“You wont change my mind Cassian.” 

“Why do you want to go so badly?” He prodded, slouching down into an arm chair not far from the balcony doors. You didn't reply, just took a drink from your glass and sat down. “Other courts- they arent like this one, Beddor.”

You scoffed into your drink, he had just answered his own question. 

“They are going to say things about us to you that arent true. Lies that will make us sound… evil.”

“And who am I to call them liars? I have seen nothing of this court but one city and a cabin in the middle of nowhere.” You snapped, cutting your gaze to him finally. Your words slapped a look of defeat on his features and he sighed. 

“You have seen a city that has been kept  secret for centuries. The Night Court the rest of Prythian knows is not one worth knowing.” And with that he finished his second drink and bid you goodnight. 

-

“Not no but hell no.” You spoke, words laced with steel. Feyre sighed and Rhysand rubbed his temples slowly. You could hear Cassian chuckling down the hallway and Azriel just stared at you as though you had killed his first born. “He isnt coming with me.” 

“You cant go alone, and Cassian’s reputation amongst other courts precedes him in the worst ways possible.” 

“Hey, fuck you man.” 

“Cas you aren't even allowed to enter the summer court.” Feyre mumbled with a smile. Cassian only scoffed and returned to whatever it was he was doing moments before. You looked between them all, dumbfounded. 

“I cant bring Amren?” You offered, grasping for straws in an empty cup.

“No. Amren is to stay in Velaris. You will bring Azriel, I'm sorry but I cant send you there alone. I have no clue why Helion wants to see you and i'm not risking you getting kidnapped by Hybern because you can't fully protect yourself without running the risk of being tracked.” If your words had been steel, Rhysand's were obsidian, honed and sharpened to a lethal edge. And you knew he was right, you were still possibly a target, and an expensive one at that. Yet the company of the shadowsinger would make your quest for knowledge difficult, if not impossible. 

The way he and Feyre looked at you made you heed his words and agree to the conditions of your stay at the Day Court.

“We’ll Winnow in, Helion is already expecting our arrival.” Azriel spoke then, stepping forward. There was an emotion in his amber eyes that was almost palpable- anger, confusion, and hurt mingled together and showed themselves to you briefly before his face was once more a mask of cool composure. He held out an arm and with a wave at Feyre and Rhysand you took it gratefully. 

Arrival at the Day Court was immediate- so much so that you nearly emptied your breakfast onto the cobbles below. Winnowing was still completely out of your wheelhouse. It left you feeling sickly and out of place when it ended. How useful- yet how strange it was. Azriel clasped your shoulder and raised a brow. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned, concern laced in his tone. Bent entirely in half you braced yourself on your knees but offered him a thumbs up and an offset groan. Azriel grimaced and patted your back gently, straightening quickly when the booming voice of Helion was heard approaching. 

“Mistress Beddor, travel has not suited you?” He asked, stopping before the two of you by a few paces. He was flanked by two women, dark in complexion and so stunningly beautiful that you had to avert your gaze. Helion looked much healthier than the last time you saw him. His dark hair was glossier, face fuller, and skin glowingly healthy. He donned a crown of gold that resembled the sun, wow- he really had gone all out for this.

“Im alright.” You replied, straightening your posture and nodding in greeting to Helion and his courtiers. Noticing your gaze Helion smiled and moved out of their way. 

“(Y/N), these are Misae and Suma.” The women (who you had effectively decided were sisters) smiled, revealing shining rows of perfectly white teeth. “They will be taking care of you during your stay.” Without a word they curtsied and in a flash they were gone, the quiet whisper of their golden skirts the only proof they had ever been there at all. 

“Your wraiths never fail to terrify me.” Azriel commented, stepping forward to shake hands with Helion who merely shrugged and chuckled. 

“Wraiths?” The men turned to look at you, both wearing a mask of confusion before Azriel’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat. 

Easy to forget you had not always been a fae. 

“They are like us, but not.” Azriel began.

“Appearance wise they are fae, metaphysically… well they just-” Helion tried to finish and it was almost painful trying to watch the two of them explain something that you didn't understand. 

You hoped this conversation was not a peek into the rest of the week. 

“Anyhow, Misae will return to take you to your room. Please feel free to rest and become acquainted with the palace. I have several meetings to attend and will not be able to rejoin you until dinner. Azriel, if you would join me?” Helion spoke, effectively dismissing you to speak with Rhysand’s emissary. 

It was a slap in the face almost, to be disregarded and thrown off so quickly into your visit. But something in the tightness of Helion’s shoulders, and the tentative nature to his smile made you feel as though he wasn't quite ready to be alone with you. You watched as the men strolled down the cobbled path lined with fruit trees and golden street lamps. 

“Shall we?” A female voice uttered from behind you. It was disjointed, ghostly in a way that made you jump and turn to the woman with a start. It was Misae, smiling softly and tilting her head. Her dark braids fell across her shoulders and nearly to her waist, they were interwoven with golden ornaments and small white flowers. So much gold. Helion must have had a fancy for the fineries in life. 

Briefly you thought that Clare would have liked it here. 

Shaking it off you smiled in return and nodded, following her in the opposite direction of where Azriel and Helion had disappeared. 

“I am (y/n).” You muttered after a moment's silence. Misae looked at you from the corner of her eye and giggled, running her hands over the silk of her skirts. The fashion here was starkly different from that of the human lands. The cut of her dress revealed the slopes and planes of her body, dipped to tease her breasts, and slit to allow her legs to peak through as she walked. Rings and bracelets clinked together melodiously on her hands and wrists and large yellow stones hung from her ears. 

You had never felt more plain in your trousers and thin sweater than you did now. 

At one point in your life you had worn the frilly hats, the frilly gloves, and the lace lined dresses. 

It had been so long since those fineries had been dotted on. 

“You are not from Prythian?” Misae spoke, once more catching you off guard with the tone of her voice. You would need to get used to that quickly. Her words were more pointed than a question, though she disguised them well.

“That obvious?” You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest and taking in the sights of the palace grounds. Birds sang and swooped through trees, and fountains trickled nearby. It was so open and bright here. 

“Yes and no.” Misae replied, taking a left into an open air hallway. She led you towards its ending where large doors encrusted in rubies and gems were sealed shut. “You just seem much more…youthful than anyone else here.” She struggled for that word, didn't mean it but couldn't put her mind on what she was trying to say. 

Human.

You just seemed more human. 

You only nodded and fell silent as she led you inside. 

–

You tried and failed not to be amazed by the complexity and beauty of Helion’s home. You did not want to seem out of place, or like this was new to you. But then again, it was new to you. You had grown up in what you considered to have been the lap of luxury, but Helion’s residence made your life look like that of a stray begging for scraps. Every surface that was not encrusted with jewels was laden in gold or bronze. There didn't seem to be a single pane of glass in any window, and the ceilings seemed to never end. 

In your own room, art whose frames alone could have fed your village for a year was hung, and the bed which sat in the corner was something out of a fairytale. Misae had given you a tour then let you be, informing you that one call of her name would summon her lest you need anything. 

Taking a glance around, you weren't sure you would. 

In the bathroom a dress hung, a note gingerly attached to its hanger.

It was a dreamy little number, dusty pink and made entirely of sheer chiffon. It was backless, a fact that had your face drained of color and your hands shaking as you reached out to run your fingers over the soft material. 

‘Join me at sunset for dinner in the gazebo. - H’ 

You let the parchment heat and burn to cinders in your hand, watched as that little white light consumed it with blind eyes. 

You chose not to get dressed in the bathroom, didnt look in the mirror as you slipped out of your sweater and pulled the dress on. Ignored the breeze that floated across your back and caressed the silver map of scars there. Deftly you twisted your hair out of your face and secured it with golden pins that had been left for you on the bedside table. As you dressed the twin wraiths appeared and added final touches, politely listening when you refused opulent jewelry and hair finishes. 

“(y/n)?” Came a muffled voice from behind the door, accompanied by a knock. With a nod the sisters had evaporated and you opened the door revealing Azriel. He had dropped his leathers and opted for a black button up made of the finest night court silk, and night dark trousers. With little shame, he allowed his eyes to drag the length of you. 

“Yes?” You almost snapped, urging his eyes back up to your own. Your brow was raised in question and you had yet to fully open the door for him to enter. Clearing his throat he made to scooch beside you, a motion you let slide. “Sure Azriel, come on in…” You muttered beneath your breath.

Shutting the door behind him you made to turn and face him when he sucked in a sharp breath. Your spine became steel and your hand stilled on the doorknob. Without a thought that welcoming heat warmed your skin and the room glowed a faint bit brighter. 

Tentative fingers brushed against the bare skin of your spine, stilling at the center of your back. Could he hear the thrumming of your heart? Smell the fear you suddenly felt?

“Is this why you didn't wear it?” He whispered, gently pulling his hand away. Slowly, ever so slowly you turned to face him, and pressed your back into the door. His hand was still raised, as though he burned to reach out and touch you again. 

“Wear what?”

“The dress. The first dinner you had with us at the town house.” Azriel muttered, studying your features. 

What dress was he talking about? You mulled it over in your mind for a moment.

Oh.

You swallowed thickly and moved around him towards the open windows. The little white dress, that had been so utterly human you had shoved it into the darkest depths of your armoire. Never to be seen again. 

“When you left, Nuala found it. Brought it back to me.” He muttered, his eyes still trained on the bedroom door, his back a wall of steel as you stared at it. So they had found it. 

“Thats not the whole reason I didnt wear it. But part of it, yes.” You replied, lifting your chin as he turned to face you. There was some kind of hurt playing on his features, an emotion you couldn't pin down. 

“What was the other?”

“It was too human. Too- too delicate.” His eyes softened as he realized what you were trying to convey. It wasn't too delicate, it was beautiful, you felt it was too delicate for you. The gesture had been kind, you would give him that, but it broke your heart entirely. 

Without entirely thinking the shadowsinger stepped forward and placed his gloved hands before you, their palms upward, waiting. Head cocked you watched him as he pulled the gloves off to reveal a map of scars, twisted and beautiful. Chucking them to the side he looked at you, searched your eyes for horror or repulsion, and yet he found nothing there but a deep understanding. 

“You can hide them all you want, but they are part of you. For good or bad.” He muttered, unmoving as you took his hands in your own and ran your fingers over the ridges and dips there. He had stopped breathing as you held them, watched from above as you broke eye contact and studied the imperfections. He had hated them his whole life, and yet here you were, making him wish he had uncovered them sooner. 

Looking into his eyes once more he saw a thin layer of gloss there, tears threatening to be shed but held tightly from doing so. “Thank you.” You muttered, for what he wasnt sure. “Thank you.” 

The illyrian only smiled tightly and nodded before pulling you forward by the shoulders, enveloping you in a cocoon of muscle and wing as he hugged you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, and held him for who knows how long. 

“We should go.” You whispered finally, well aware that there was still a dinner to attend, appearances to make, and answers you could not be sidetracked from. Azriel only nodded and pulled away, offering you a hand to hold as you made your way into the hall beyond your room. 

Distantly, music played, and for some reason its haunting melody was less piercing than it should have been, less harrowing as you held Azriel’s hand and made your way to the dining room.

~

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[yoonia]

the struggles of writing smut (series edition)

where were we?

going back to the previous chapter to see which room they were in 

“…as he lifts her up and presses her against the wall”; previous chapter: they were on a bed

vice versa for this version: “she clenches her fingers around the bedsheets beneath her…”; previous chapter: they were in the living room

did this character give the other a nickname?

going back to the previous chapter to see if they’re naked yet

“…he rips her panties off her skin”; previous chapter: he already stole her panties

and vice versa for this version: “she falls breathless as she watches him smoothly taking his suit off and start unbuttoning his shirt…”; previous chapter: he’s already shirtless

when they’re climaxed/finished and the main/male character wipes his partner clean with his shirt that was tossed in the other room a few chapters ago

“…as he runs his fingers through her silky hair”; previous chapter: her hair is thick and curly