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“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Hogwarts had always held a certain allure, with its ancient stone walls and magic that seemed to permeate every nook and cranny. For six and a half years, you'd wandered those hallowed halls, immersing yourself in a world so far removed from the mundane that at times it hardly seemed real.

Yet, for all its wonder and mystique, Hogwarts was not without its dangers. 

There were cursed objects that lurked in shadowy corridors, waiting for an unsuspecting student to stumble upon them. Staircases that shifted without warning, leaving the unwary stranded or, worse, deposited in some unknown part of the castle. The Whomping Willow that stood sentinel on the grounds, its gnarled branches poised to strike at any who ventured too close. Even Peeves the Poltergeist roamed the halls, cackling with malicious glee as he wreaked havoc and sowed chaos in his wake.

In the face of such peril, you had thus far emerged unscathed, a feat that was nothing short of remarkable given the castle's rather alarming mortality rate. You attributed your survival to a simple yet effective strategy: be invisible, be boring, and for the love of Merlin, stay away from anyone interesting.

Interesting people, you had learned, were magnets for trouble. They ended up in the hospital wing with alarming regularity, usually victims of rogue hexes or potions experiments gone awry. They attracted drama the way honey attracted flies, their lives a constant whirlwind of rumor and intrigue. Interesting people had complicated social lives, with networks of friends and enemies and romantic entanglements that required constant upkeep.

You, on the other hand, were perfectly content with your quiet, unassuming existence. You had one close friend, one beloved cat, and a comfortable routine that rarely demanded more of you than attending classes and avoiding human interaction as much as possible. It wasn't a particularly exciting life, but it was safe and predictable and suited you just fine.

At least, it had until this particular moment, when your sole friend had apparently taken complete leave of her senses.

"Are you having some sort of episode?" You peered at Jo over the top of your book, brow furrowed in concern. "Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey? Is this what happens when you inhale too many potion fumes?"

Jo rolled her eyes with an exaggerated huff. "Please!" she wheedled, her voice climbing to that particular pitch that never boded well. "Please please please, I swear on Merlin's saggy ba—"

You held up a finger, cutting her off before she could complete that thought. "I'm going to stop you right there..."

"I'll never ask you for anything ever again!" She pleaded, clasping her hands together. "I'll do your Potions essays for a month! I'll clean Whiskers' litter box! I'll—"

"I don't think you heard me the first time," you interrupted, fixing her with a pointed stare. "Are. You. Mental?"

The Gryffindor common room was mercifully empty save for the portrait of a tongue-less lady, who watched your exchange with rapt attention. Having gotten her tongue cut out in 1642 for "seditious gossip", the painted woman had developed a keen appreciation for drama in all its forms. Judging by the way she clutched at her pearls, this was the most excitement she'd witnessed in decades.

"Come ooon," Jo cajoled, undeterred by your apparent lack of enthusiasm. "When do I ever do things like this? You're always telling me to try new things!"

"I meant take up knitting! Join the Gobstones Club! I did not mean sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night to meet some potentially lycanthropic stranger you've been corresponding with!"

"He's not a stranger, I've been writing to him for months—"

"Which is exactly what every person who's ever been murdered by a pen pal has said—"

"And he's not a werewolf, he's perfectly lovely! I saw him in Hogsmeade last month, I just couldn't say hello because McGonagall was watching me like a hawk."

"Seeing someone from a distance hardly counts as a proper introduction," you argued, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself as if to punctuate your point.

This was the problem with having just one close friend. You knew Jo too well, could read her every expression and intonation better than anyone else. That gleam in her eye, the set of her chin, the way she twisted her fingers in her lap - you recognized the signs of a course already plotted, a decision already made. She would go through with this mad scheme with or without your help, and if you refused, she'd likely end up dead in a ditch somewhere and you'd be left to drown in guilt for the rest of your days.

Guilt, you thought grimly, was a most effective motivator.

With a weary sigh, you closed your book and met Jo's hopeful gaze. "Fine. Fine. What exactly do you need me to do?"

Jo's answering grin could have lit up the entirety of the Great Hall. "Just swap patrol shifts with Sophie Crockett tomorrow night? She's an absolute nightmare, and if she catches me out after curfew she'll go straight to McGonagall."

You could feel a headache blooming behind your eyes. "And when Sophie asks why I'm suddenly so eager to take on the worst patrol slot in existence?"

"Just make something up! She's not going to turn down a chance to skive off for an evening, is she?"

Rubbing your temples, you silently cursed the fickle twists of fate that had led you to this moment. "And the other prefects? I'll still have to deal with them, you know."

Jo waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you're all right. The only other one scheduled is Na Jaemin, and everyone knows he never actually patrols. Just goes and snogs girls in the library all night, doesn't he?"

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. "How would you know that?"

"Everyone knows," Jo said with a shrug. "It's common knowledge."

"Well, I didn't know."

"That's because you never pay attention to gossip," Jo pointed out, flopping down beside you on the couch. "Honestly, you're missing out on prime entertainment. Anyway, I'm sure Jaemin's got better things to do than patrol corridors. You'll probably have the place to yourself.”

You made a noncommittal sound, trying not to think too hard about Na Jaemin and his extracurricular activities.

It was funny, really. Well, not funny funny. More like cosmically ironic. First and second year, Jaemin had been an absolute pest. Always lurking around corners, waiting to charm your bag so your books would spill everywhere, or jinx your quill during tests so it would only write rude limericks. He’d found you endlessly amusing, apparently, a never-ending source of entertainment. You’d gone to bed countless nights fuming, plotting revenge you’d never actually carry out, wishing he’d just leave you alone.

And then, somewhere around third year, he just stopped. He stopped seeking you out, or looking at you entirely. As if you’d ceased to exist the moment you stopped being fun to torment.

By fourth year, he’d transformed into a whole different person entirely. Suddenly he was all smoldering glances and that insufferable “playboy” swagger, a different girl on his arm every week. Too cool for pranks and too sophisticated for something as juvenile as tormenting students. He’d become exactly the sort of person you’d made it your mission to avoid: interesting, magnetic, drowning in attention and drama.

You supposed you should have been relieved. You’d wanted him to leave you alone, after all. But there was something particularly galling about being so thoroughly dismissed, about going from his favorite target to utterly beneath his notice. At least when he’d been pulling pranks, you’d existed to him.

Now you were just… nobody. Which was exactly what you’d wanted, you reminded yourself firmly. Exactly what you’d worked so hard to achieve.

“You’re probably right,” you said to Jo, pushing thoughts of Jaemin firmly out of your mind. “I’ll probably have the whole patrol to myself.”

Privately, you rather doubted that. In your experience, the universe had a way of placing you in the path of people and situations you'd much rather avoid. Still, Jo was clearly determined to see her plan through, and short of physically restraining her (a tempting prospect, but ultimately impractical), you saw no way to dissuade her.

"Fine," you said again. "I'll take Sophie's patrol. But if this goes sideways, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' in the loudest, most obnoxious voice I can muster."

"You're the best." Jo pulled you into a rib-cracking hug, her hair tickling your nose. "Seriously, I owe you one."

"You owe me several," you grumbled, but you returned the hug all the same.

Later that night, as you lay in bed listening to the soft snores of your dormmates, you tried to ignore the sense of foreboding curling in your gut. Rationally, you knew the odds of anything truly catastrophic happening were slim. It was just one night, one patrol, one tiny favor for your best friend. Surely the universe wouldn't be so cruel as to upend your careful, boring routine over something so trivial.

But then, you thought wryly, life did seem to have a twisted sense of humor where you were concerned.

With a sigh, you rolled over and buried your face in your pillow, willing sleep to come. Tomorrow would bring what it would. For now, all you could do was hope that, just this once, the cosmic forces that governed your life would decide to give you a break.

Poorly planned rule-breaking never worked out the way you expected it to.

There was the first year incident, for instance, involving a misplaced curiosity about the Restricted Section and a borrowed invisibility cloak that was, crucially, not yours. You’d lasted exactly twelve minutes before knocking over a stack of cursed folios and alerting Madam Pince.

Second year had been defined by an ill-advised attempt to brew Pepper-Up Potion in a bathroom sink, resulting in steam, screaming, and a week-long ban from practical spellwork. Jo still insisted it would have worked if you’d stirred clockwise instead of counterclockwise. You maintained that the problem was attempting potion-making in plumbing never designed for magic.

After those things, you'd like to say you saw the impending disaster coming from a mile away, but honestly? You were too preoccupied with figuring out how to convince Sophie Crockett to swap shifts without making her suspicious.

As it turned out, Sophie was pathetically easy to persuade. You caught her after Charms, mentioned something vague about "wanting to study for the Divination exam in the morning" (there was no Divination exam, but Sophie didn't take Divination, so she was none the wiser), and she agreed immediately, no questions asked. Just a breezy "Oh, thank Merlin, I've got an Astronomy essay I haven't even started" and that was that.

In hindsight, that should have been your first warning sign. When things fell into place too smoothly, it usually meant the universe was just winding up for a truly spectacular cosmic sucker punch.

At nine sharp on Saturday you pinned your prefect badge to your robes and made your way down to the Entrance Hall, silently cursing your inability to say no to Jo's puppy dog eyes.

The castle took on a different character at night. Not peaceful, exactly. More... haunting. The portraits whispered conspiratorially as you passed, and the shadows in the corners seemed to stretch and deepen weirdly. You'd walked these corridors countless times before, but they never quite lost their eerie quality after dark.

You were supposed to meet Jaemin at the main staircase to divvy up patrol routes. But in theory, if the rumors about his extracurricular activities were true, you'd never actually know have to interact with him at all.

That was the theory, anyway.

The reality was that when you arrived at the designated meeting spot, Na Jaemin was already there, leaning against the banister and looking distinctly un-snog-ready.

Jaemin was the sort of boy who looked like he was born in moonlight and named by a poet. Even in the sallow torchlight, his hair glowed, silver-gold and a little too long for regulation. There was always something quietly triumphant in the angle of his jaw, the tilt of his smile, as if every corridor was a stage and every passing student a captive audience.

You stopped short, your feet suddenly rooted to the spot.  Some ancient, reflexive part of your brain was screaming at you to turn around, to flee, to avoid him the way you’d been so carefully avoiding him for the past four years. The last time you’d been alone with Na Jaemin you’d been twelve years old and he’d been too entertained by your mortification to let you escape.

Now you were seventeen, and he was looking at you with an expression that was completely different and all too intense. He was supposed to be off in some secluded corner of the library, doing unspeakable things with whatever girl was lucky enough to be on his arm that week. He was absolutely not supposed to be here, looking alert and purposeful and like he was actually planning to do his job.

Even more concerning, he looked annoyed.

"You're the Gryffindor prefect," he said, and it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"...Yes?" Really, what else could you say?

"Where's Crockett?"

"We swapped shifts."

His eyes, a rather striking shade of dark brown that you'd never had occasion to notice before, narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

"Does it matter?"

He closed his eyes briefly, and you got the distinct impression he was counting to ten in his head. When he opened them again, he fixed you with a look that could have flash-frozen a cup of tea. "I needed Crockett on duty tonight."

Well. That was... odd. Extremely odd. Highly, suspiciously odd. Why would Na Jaemin, Slytherin prince and general too-cool-for-this-nonsense type, care which prefect was patrolling with him?

"Well," you said, channeling every ounce of polite defiance you possessed, "we've already swapped, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me. Unless you've got a Time-Turner hidden somewhere, which would be highly illegal, so I'm going to assume you don't."

Jaemin's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. "This is—" He stopped himself, visibly recalibrating. "Fine. Right. You take floors three through five then. I'll handle the lower levels and the grounds."

And that's when your brain, which had been operating at half capacity due to stress and sleep deprivation, finally caught up with the situation.

The grounds.

Jaemin wanted to patrol the grounds.

The same grounds where, at this very moment, your best friend was likely rendezvousing with her mystery man.

Oh no. 

"Actually," you heard yourself say, the words tumbling out in a slightly manic rush, "I was rather hoping to get some fresh air tonight. Bit stuffy in the castle, you know. Mind if we swap? You take the upper floors, I'll do the grounds."

His expression shuttered faster than a shop window in Knockturn Alley. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, that's not very cooperative of you," you said, mentally calculating how quickly you could sprint to the grounds to warn Jo. "Aren't prefects supposed to work as a team?"

Jaemin raised one perfectly arched brow. "Why so keen on the grounds all of a sudden?"

"No reason." Your voice came out at least an octave higher than usual. "Just thought it would be nice to get some air. Lovely night for a stroll, don't you think?"

"You're an atrocious liar," he informed you, taking a step closer. You were suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that he was quite a bit taller than you, and that the height difference was doing absolutely nothing to bolster your confidence in this situation. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

"Of course not. And I suppose you just happened to swap shifts with Crockett tonight for no particular reason, and now you're coincidentally desperate to patrol the grounds."

Okay. This was getting out of control. You needed him. away from the grounds, away from Jo, away from this entire situation. And there was only one thing you could think of that might actually work.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

“You know.” You waved a hand vaguely, heat creeping up your neck. “It’s Saturday night. I just thought you might have… plans.”

“Plans,” he repeated flatly.

“Yeah, well… You don’t actually patrol on Saturdays.” The words came out in a rush, ungraceful and desperate. “So if you want to go do whatever it is you usually do, I can handle this. Really. You don’t have to—”

“Whatever it is I usually do,” Jaemin said, his lips twitching. “And what exactly do you think that is?”

Oh god. Why had you started this?

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of your schedule.”

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t be standing here trying to… what? Give me permission to skive off?” He was definitely smiling now, the bastard. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m just saying, if you have other commitments—”

He laughed, short and sharp. “Is that what we’re calling it? Commitments?”

Your face was absolutely burning now. “Look, what you do with your time is none of my business.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Because I’m trying to be helpful!” You gestured wildly at the empty entrance hall. “The library’s right there. I’m sure whoever you’re supposed to meet would appreciate you actually showing up—”

“Ah.” Jaemin’s grin widened, showing teeth. “You think I’m supposed to meet someone in the library.”

“That’s what people say,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes.

“People say a lot of things.” He leaned back against the banister, looking thoroughly entertained now. “And you believe all of them?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Tell me, what else does everyone say about me? I’m curious.”

This was a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. “Forget I said anything.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so.” He pushed off the banister, taking a step closer. “You started it. Come on, don’t be shy now. What exactly are these Saturday night activities I’m supposedly abandoning patrol for?”

You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “You already know what people say.”

“I do. But I want to hear you say it.” His eyes were dancing with so much glee. “Go on. Don’t spare my delicate sensibilities.”

“This is ridiculous—”

“Go on.”

You took a breath, lifted your chin, and forced the words out with as much dignity as you could muster. “Fine. People say you spend your patrol shifts in the library doing…things.”

“Things?” Jaemin repeated, his grin positively wolfish now. “How delightfully vague.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t. You’ll have to be more specific.”

He was enjoying this far too much, the absolute prat. “They say you… meet girls there.”

“Meet girls,” he said thoughtfully. “Like a book club?”

“Not like a book club,” you gritted out.

“Then what?”

You threw your hands up. “They say you snog girls in the library instead of doing your prefect duties! There! Are you happy?”

Jaemin laughed. “Merlin’s beard, is that it?”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“And you believed it?” He shook his head, still grinning. “That’s adorable, really.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

“Well, you are when you’re trying to delicately inform me about my own scandalous reputation.” His eyes glittered with delight. “How very considerate, giving me an out like that. ‘Oh Jaemin, don’t let me keep you from your library assignations.’”

He said it in a high pitched tone, clearly trying for a very inaccurate impression of you.

“I was only trying to be nice.” You huffed.

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” he corrected, but he didn’t sound annoyed about it. If anything, he seemed more intrigued. “Which brings us back to the question of why you’re so desperate for me to not patrol the grounds tonight.”

Damn it. You’d played right into his hands. “I’m not—”

“You just tried to use my supposed promiscuity as an excuse to get me to leave.” He tilted his head, studying you. “So either you’re deeply concerned about my social life, or there’s something on the grounds you don’t want me to find.”

Your heart was hammering again. He’d out-maneuvered you completely, turning your own attempt at manipulation back on you.

“Well?” he prompted. “Which is it?”

“The first one,” you lied weakly. “I’m very concerned about your social life.”

“Right.” His smile was sharper now, more predatory. “In that case, you’ll be delighted to know I’m completely free tonight. I have no library dates or clandestine meetings. Just a nice, thorough patrol of the grounds.” He paused. “With you, apparently, since you seem so determined to tag along.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are so irritating.”

“There’s the Gryffindor honesty I remember,” he said cheerfully. “Come on then. Let’s go catch whoever it is you’re trying to protect.”

Wait. What?

“I’m not—there’s no one—”

But he was already turning toward the entrance hall, and panic clawed at your throat. You needed to try something else, anything to keep him from the grounds.

“Look,” you said, a note of genuine desperation creeping into your voice, “patrolling the grounds is easily twice the work of the upper floors. I’m offering to take on the extra effort here. What’s the problem?”

He paused, glancing back at you with an expression of exaggerated surprise. “You? Volunteering for extra work?” He pressed a hand to his chest in shock. “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Na Jaemin, and you’re the girl who once hid in a broom cupboard for twenty minutes to avoid helping set up for the Yule Ball.”

“I did not—” You stopped, because you absolutely had done that, and he somehow knew about it. “That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it though?” He was grinning again, clearly enjoying himself. “Come on, admit it. You’ve spent six years perfecting the art of doing the absolute bare minimum. I’ve seen you let third years wander the corridors after curfew as long as they promised to go straight to bed.”

Your face burned. “I was tired that night—”

“You’re always tired.” He tilted his head. “So forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical about this sudden burst of civic responsibility. It’s very out of character for you.”

The sheer audacity. The unmitigated gall. To accuse you of apathy and then dismiss you without so much as a backward glance? An ember of indignation flared to life and burned away the last vestiges of your tattered patience. He had no right. No right to stand there and act like he understood anything about you when he was the reason you’d learned to make yourself invisible in the first place.

And now here he was, cataloging your flaws with that same amused smile, like you were still just entertainment to him.

“Fine,” you bit out. “Don’t take my offer. See if I care.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He turned back toward the entrance hall, waving a hand dismissively over his shoulder. “I’m patrolling the grounds. You can join me or check the upper floors. Your choice.”

“Why do you just get to decide that on your own? The grounds aren’t even part of the standard patrol route!”

"They are tonight," he tossed over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

And with that spectacularly unhelpful explanation, he walked out the front doors, leaving you standing slack-jawed and sputtering in his wake.

This was it. The moment of truth. You had approximately five seconds to make a decision that would either save your best friend from expulsion or doom her to a fate worse than death.

Option one: let Jaemin go off on his own. He'd catch Jo, she'd be expelled, and you'd spend the rest of your life weighed down by the guilt of your inaction.

Option two: follow him, try to run interference, and most likely fail spectacularly but hey, at least you could say you tried.

In the end, your choice was clear. The reckless, devil-may-care loyalty that had landed you in Gryffindor in the first place reared its noble head, and before you quite knew what you were doing, you were hurrying out the doors after Jaemin, resignation and foreboding dogging your every step.

"I'm coming!" you called after him.

Jaemin spun around, one eyebrow quirked in a way that suggested he'd interpreted your words in a decidedly less innocent manner.

"To the grounds," you clarified hastily, feeling your face heat up. "To patrol. With you."

“I gathered that much,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Though I appreciate the clarification. Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.”

You glared at him, but he’d already turned back around, that damned smirk still visible in profile.

Beyond the castle corridors, the night grounds felt twice as ominous. Shadows stretched from the Forbidden Forest, where twisted branches reached toward the sky like gnarled fingers against the dark. Nearby, the Black Lake remained a silent mirror, its surface only occasionally broken by ripples that hinted at the heavy, mysterious life lurking in the depths.

Jaemin had conjured a floating orb of soft white light to guide your path, which was considerate yet irritating, as it seemed to delight in hovering mere inches from your face and nearly blinding you. He walked with an easy grace, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like this was just a casual evening stroll and not a patently absurd situation that could land you both in a world of trouble.

You, on the other hand, were so tense you could practically feel your muscles vibrating. Your mind raced as you tried to remember what Jo had told you about her planned rendezvous. 

They’d be in the grounds, obviously, but beyond that? Hogwarts' grounds spanned nearly a thousand acres and included everything from dense forest to rolling hills to a literal giant-squid-infested lake. If you were going to have any hope of intercepting Jo before Jaemin did, you needed a clearer idea of where exactly to look.

And you needed to keep him distracted.

“So,” Jaemin said, his voice cutting through your rising panic, “care to tell me what’s really going on here?”

“We’re patrolling,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed firmly ahead. “That’s what’s going on.”

“And I suppose you always volunteer for extra patrols on Saturday nights, do you? Just for the exercise?”

“Maybe I do. Fresh air is good for you.”

“Right.” He didn’t sound like he believed you for a second. “And here I thought you preferred to spend your evenings in the Restricted Section, avoiding human interaction as much as possible.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Have you been spying on me?”

“It’s called being observant,” he said lightly. “You should try it sometime. Although I suppose that would require you to take an interest in something beyond your very busy schedule of going through the motions and avoiding anything that might resemble effort.”

There it was again, that annoying assessment of your character, delivered with a smile that made it impossible to tell if he was genuinely criticizing you or just winding you up for his own amusement.

Bristling, you planted your hands on your hips and glared up at him. "I put in effort when it matters."

"And I'm sure swapping shifts with Crockett was a matter of utmost importance, then?" His lips curved into a smirk that made you want to hex it right off his unfairly symmetrical face. "Go on. What’s so crucial about tonight? Did you lose a bet? Secret passion for night-time groundskeeping?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because you’re terrible at being subtle, and watching you try is genuinely entertaining.” He grinned at your affronted expression. “Plus, I’m curious. You’ve spent the better part of six years being aggressively unremarkable, and now here you are, practically begging to patrol the grounds with me. It’s very out of character.”

“Stop acting like you know everything about me.”

“I might not know everything about you,” he said, his voice taking on a knowing tone, “But I know you’re trying to protect someone.”

Your heart skipped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The floating light cast strange shadows across his features, making his expression harder to read. “Here’s what I think is happening. There’s someone out here meeting someone they shouldn’t be meeting. You agreed to swap with Crockett to cover for that person, expecting me to skip patrol like I apparently always do. But I didn’t, so now you’re stuck trying to run interference while pretending this is all perfectly normal.”

You stared at him, your mouth going dry. He’d worked it out. Of course he had. Because Na Jaemin might be annoying and smug and entirely too pleased with himself, but he’d never been stupid.

“That’s…” you started, but your voice came out weak. “That’s a very creative theory.”

“You’ve gone red again.” He tilted his head, studying you. “Dead giveaway.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but closed it again, floundering. There was absolutely no way to explain your actions without either incriminating Jo or making yourself look even more suspicious. You were well and truly cornered, and the triumphant gleam in Jaemin's eyes told you he knew it.

But before you could cobble together a halfway coherent response, a sound drifted through the night air that made you stop cold.

Laughter.

More specifically, Jo's laughter, bright and carefree and coming from somewhere worryingly close by.

Jaemin froze too, his eyes narrowing. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" you asked, feigning ignorance even as your heart threatened to beat its way out of your ribcage. "I didn't hear anything. Probably just the wind. It howls around the turrets sometimes..."

"That wasn't the wind." He was already moving again, long legs eating up the ground as he strode purposefully toward the source of the sound. "That was a person, maybe two, from the sounds of it"

"What? No, that's—I really think it was just the wind. Or maybe Peeves playing a prank. You know what a menace he is, always causing trouble, we should probably go back inside and—"

But he wasn't listening. Because he was Na Jaemin, and he'd caught the scent of rule-breaking, and Merlin forbid he let it go in favor of the much more appealing option of minding his own damn business.

You had no choice. You were either going to have to physically stop him (a laughable notion - he had a good six inches and probably thirty pounds of muscle on you), or you were going to have to get to Jo first.

The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of them. "Wait!"

Miraculously, he actually stopped walking and turned to look at you, one eyebrow arched expectantly.

"I—" Your mind raced, grasping for any excuse, any diversion, anything to keep him from taking another step. "I think I saw something. Over there." You pointed vaguely off to your left, in the opposite direction of Jo's laughter. "We should go check it out."

Jaemin regarded you with exasperation. "You know, for someone who's spent the better part of six years avoiding attention, you're shockingly bad at subterfuge."

"I–I'm just being cautious. It's dark out here, and there could be...things. Dangerous things. Like snargaluffs, or...or a moke on the loose."

"A moke," he repeated flatly. "An invisible lizard the size of a mouse. You think I should be worried about a moke ambushing me.”

 “They can be vicious!”

“They’re ten inches tall.”

“Size isn’t everything,” you shot back, then immediately regretted it as his grin widened into something positively wicked.

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” he said smoothly, and you felt your face flame.

“That’s not—I didn’t mean—oh, for Merlin’s sake.” You covered your face with your hands, wondering if it was possible to die of embarrassment. “Can we please just check the trees?”

“Why?” He took a step closer, and you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. “What are you so afraid I’m going to find if we keep going this way?”

You hesitated, weighing your options. On the one hand, the truth was unthinkable. You couldn't just throw Jo to the wolves like that, not after you'd promised to cover for her. On the other hand, you were rapidly running out of plausible lies, and Jaemin clearly wasn't buying any of them.

“Nothing,” you said, but it came out weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.

“Nothing,” he echoed. “Right. So you won’t mind if I just—”

He made to move past you, toward where Jo’s laughter had come from, and you did the only thing you could think of.

You grabbed his arm.

The moment your fingers closed around his sleeve, you realized what a monumentally stupid mistake you’d made. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric and the solid muscle beneath. He stilled instantly, his gaze dropping to where your hand clutched at him, then slowly lifting to meet your eyes.

“Please,” you said quietly, all pretense abandoned. “Don’t go over there. Just—just forget you heard anything, and I’ll explain later. I promise.”

He studied you for a long moment. You were acutely aware of how close you were standing, of the way his eyes seemed to catch every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

"So you are covering for someone," he said at last. "A friend, I'm guessing. The one you're always with? The loud one, with the"—he gestured vaguely—"the hair?"

"Her hair is perfectly normal, thank you very much, and I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It absolutely is my business, seeing as there are students out of bed and I'm a prefect. I'm supposed to report this sort of thing, you know."

"Yes, well, I'm also a prefect, and I'm asking you not to." Desperation bled into your voice, and you hated it, hated that you were practically begging him for something that you had no right to ask for. “Please, Jaemin. Can't you just...look the other way? Just this once?"

He was silent for a long moment, and you braced yourself for the inevitable. For the sneer, the cutting remark, the gleeful reminder that he was a Slytherin and Slytherins didn't do favors without expecting something in return.

But when he finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. "You really care about her, don't you? Your friend."

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. "She's my best friend. I'd do anything for her."

"Even lie to a fellow prefect and risk getting in trouble yourself."

"Yes." You met his gaze squarely, unflinching. "Even that."

Another long silence, and then he sighed. "All right, fine."

You blinked. "Fine?"

"Fine, I won't report her. But"—he held up a hand as you opened your mouth to thank him—"I want something in return."

There it was. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Slytherins always had an angle, and Jaemin was Slytherin to the core.

Wariness crept into your voice as you asked, "What sort of something?"

His lips curved into a smile that could only be described as predatory. "A favor. One favor, to be determined by me, at a time of my choosing. Do this, and I'll conveniently forget I heard anything tonight."

Your stomach dropped. A favor. An open-ended, unspecified, could-be-anything favor, owed to Na Jaemin. Well. This was how you died, not in a blaze of glory like a true Gryffindor, but in the thrall of a serpent's forked tongue and devastating jawline.

But what choice did you have? If you refused, Jo would be caught for sure. And then she'd be expelled, and it would be all your fault, and you'd have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life. A life which, frankly, was looking shorter and shorter with each passing minute as Jaemin stared you down, waiting for your answer.

"Fine," you said through gritted teeth. "One favor. But nothing illegal or dangerous or humiliating."

His smile widened, showing far too many teeth for your comfort. "Look at that. You’re negotiating. Will wonders never cease?"

"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

"Oh, I'll take them." He held out a hand, long fingers uncurling in an inviting gesture. "Shall we shake on it?"

You glared at his hand like it might bite you (and really, with Jaemin, who knew?) but reluctantly reached out and grasped it. His skin was warm, his grip firm, and you tried very hard not to think about how nice his hand felt in yours.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he murmured, and was it your imagination or did his thumb just stroke across your knuckles?

You snatched your hand back like you'd been burned, face flushing. "Yes, well. You'd better hold up your end of the bargain."

"I'm a man of my word." He sketched a mocking little bow. "Your friend's secret is safe with me for now."

The words 'for now' hung there as a silent threat, and you suppressed a shiver. What had you just agreed to? What price would you have to pay for your loyalty?

As if reading your thoughts, Jaemin's smile turned sly. "Don't look so worried. I promise I won't ask for anything too dreadful. Probably."

"Probably," you repeated faintly.

"Probably," he confirmed, and then he turned on his heel and started back toward the castle, leaving you to trail after him in a daze.

The rest of the patrol passed in a blur. You walked in silence, Jaemin seemingly content to let you stew in your own anxiety, and by the time you returned to the Entrance Hall, you were a nervous wreck. You kept imagining all the horrible things he might ask for—doing his homework for the rest of the term, being his personal servant, confessing to McGonagall that you were the one who'd let those nifflers loose in the staff room last year (even though that had been entirely Jo's doing and you'd just been an unwilling accomplice).

At the foot of the stairs, Jaemin paused and turned to face you. In the dim light of the entrance hall, his eyes were pools of shadow, unreadable and fathomless.

"I'll be in touch," he said, his voice low and full of dark promise. "Sweet dreams."

And then he was gone, melting into the shadows like he'd been born from them, leaving you with a racing heart and the sinking certainty that your life was about to become a lot more complicated.

The next morning, you cornered Jo in the common room before breakfast, pulling her into the corner by the window where no one could overhear.

“Tell me everything went okay last night,” you demanded without preamble. “Please tell me you didn’t do something insane—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Jo held up her hands, her eyes wide. “I’m fine! Everything went perfectly. Well, mostly perfectly. There was a weird moment where I thought I heard someone coming, but then nothing happened, so…” She trailed off, then grabbed your shoulders. “Wait. What happened to you? You look like you haven’t slept.”

“That’s because I haven’t.” You started pacing anxiously. “Jo. I think I might have done something really, really stupid.”

Her expression changed from concern to dread in the span of a second. “What kind of stupid?”

“The kind that involves Na Jaemin and a debt to repay.”

“Oh no.” Jo’s face went pale. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” You tugged at your hair, feeling the full weight of last night’s decision crushing down on you. “He wanted to patrol the grounds, Jo. He would have found you. I couldn’t let that happen, so I… I made a deal with him.”

Jo stared at you like you'd just confessed to murdering the Minister of Magic. "You made a deal with Na Jaemin. The boy who once convinced half the school that Professor Flitwick was secretly a goblin in disguise."

"To be fair, he has a dash of goblin blood..."

"Not the point!" She grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to stop pacing. "What kind of deal are we talking about here? What did you promise him?"

You took a deep breath. "A favor."

"A favor," she repeated slowly. "What kind of favor?"

“The unspecified kind. The ‘to be determined at a later date’ kind. The ‘I now owe Na Jaemin a debt that he can collect on whenever he wants’ kind.”

She looked about two seconds away from fainting. “You didn’t.”

“I panicked!” you wailed, not caring that you were probably drawing attention from the other early risers scattered around the common room. “It was either agree to the favor or let him catch you with Mr. Mysterious! What was I supposed to do?”

“Not sell your soul to a Slytherin, for starters!” She released you and began pacing, chewing on her thumbnail in that way she only did when she was truly stressed. “This is bad. This is really, really bad. Na Jaemin with a favor from you? He could ask for anything. Anything.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You dropped your head into your hands. “I’ve been up all night imagining the horrible things he might ask for. What if he wants me to do something illegal? What if he wants me to sabotage someone? What if he wants me to—” You shuddered. “—publicly humiliate myself somehow?”

Jo stopped pacing, her expression shifting from panic to determination. “Okay. Okay, we’re not going to catastrophize. Yes, this is bad. Yes, owing Jaemin a favor is potentially disastrous. But it’s not the end of the world.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“No.” She sat down beside you, taking your hand. “Listen to me. You did this to protect me. You put yourself on the line because you’re a good friend, the best friend, and I’m not going to let you face this alone. Whatever Jaemin asks for, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

You wanted to take comfort in her words, in the fierce loyalty shining in her eyes. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil, and the bill would come due sooner rather than later.

“Okay,” you said quietly, squeezing her hand. “Together.”

“Together,” she confirmed. Then her expression turned mischievous. “Besides, who knows? Maybe he’ll ask for something simple. Like help with his Potions essay or something.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Jaemin doesn’t need help with Potions. He’s annoyingly good at everything.”

“Well then maybe he’ll ask you to—I don’t know—organize his sock drawer? Polish his prefect badge?”

“Jo.”

“I’m just saying, it might not be as bad as you think!”

But even as you tried to let her optimism buoy you, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just changed irrevocably. That in agreeing to owe Jaemin a favor, you'd set into motion a chain of events that you couldn't possibly predict or control.

Whatever he wanted from you, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be something as simple as organizing his socks.

A haze of anxiety and paranoia defined the following week, one that had you reaching a level of vigilance that would have impressed even Mad-Eye Moody.

You jumped at every sudden noise, flinched every time a Slytherin so much as glanced in your direction, and spent an inordinate amount of time scanning the Great Hall for any sign of Jaemin’s blonde head bent in whispered conversation with his housemates, plotting your doom.

To avoid him, you mapped out convoluted routes to class, opting for deserted corridors even when they made you late. Mealtimes were rescheduled to avoid the rush—breakfast at dawn, lunch in the late afternoon, and dinner only when the Hall had emptied to a few stragglers. In Potions, which was the one class you shared with him, you positioned yourself as far from his usual spot as physically possible, practically pressed against the dungeon wall, and refused to so much as breathe in his direction.

Not that it mattered… Because he didn’t approach you at all.

He just watched you.

From across the courtyard, his gaze would find you through a flurry of Slytherin green. Other times, your eyes would drift upward in Potions only to find him already staring, head propped lazily in his palm. He looked for all the world as if you were far more entertaining than any lecture Professor Slughorn could provide.

You started second-guessing everything. The way you sat, the way you spoke, the way you tugged at your sleeve or tucked your hair behind your ear when nervous. You found yourself becoming a caricature of yourself: rigid, overly cautious, desperate to give nothing away.

By the end of the week, you were a nervous wreck. You’d bitten your nails down to the quick. Developed a stress-induced rash on your neck that no amount of Essence of Dittany could soothe. And even started having vivid nightmares about Jaemin cornering you in increasingly absurd locations like the Prefects’ bathroom, or memorably in the middle of a Quidditch match where he’d swooped down on a broom to demand you juggle puffapods while the entire school watched.

“You need to sleep,” Jo said on Friday night, eyeing the bags under your eyes with concern. “This is getting ridiculous. You look like you’ve been hit with a Confundus Charm.”

“I can’t sleep,” you muttered, your third cup of coffee cooling forgotten beside your Transfiguration essay. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see his face. That stupid, smug, infuriatingly perfect face.”

Jo’s eyebrows shot up. “Perfect?”

“Putrid,” you corrected hastily, feeling your face heat. “I meant putrid. The point is, I can’t relax knowing that at any moment, he could just… appear and demand whatever horrific thing he’s been planning.”

“Maybe he’s forgotten about it,” Jo suggested, though she didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe he was just messing with you, and he never actually intended to collect.”

You wanted to believe that. You really did. But you’d seen the satisfied glint in Jaemin’s eyes when you’d shaken hands.

No. He hadn’t forgotten. He was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The weekend dragged on with NEWTs studying, failed naps and increasingly creative avoidance techniques. By Sunday morning, you were so on edge that when an owl swooped down at breakfast and dropped a letter directly onto your plate, you actually screamed.

Half the Gryffindor table turned to stare.

“It’s just the post,” Jo said soothingly, though she was eyeing the letter with nearly as much suspicion as you were. “Probably from your mother.”

Your hands shook as you picked up the envelope. The handwriting was your mother’s, thank Merlin, and you sagged with relief as you broke the seal.

“See?” Jo said. “You’re being paranoid.”

“Can you blame me?” you muttered, scanning your mother’s cheerful recounting of your aunt’s latest garden gnome infestation. “It’s been a week, Jo. A whole week of nothing. It’s unnatural.”

“Psychological warfare, that’s what this is. Classic Slytherin mind games. He’s letting you stew, letting the anticipation build, until you’re so wound up that you’ll agree to anything just to put yourself out of your misery.”

“Thank you, Jo,” you said through gritted teeth, stabbing your sausage with enough force to make your fork screech against the plate. “That’s incredibly comforting.”

“I’m just saying, it’s textbook manipulation.” She reached for the marmalade, unbothered by your glare. “My cousin Fergus dated a girl from that house once, and she used to—” 

But you never found out what Jo's cousin's Slytherin ex-girlfriend did, because at that moment, a hush fell over the Great Hall. You looked up, already knowing what you'd see, and felt your stomach drop straight through the floor.

Jaemin was walking toward the Gryffindor table with purpose and intent, his long strides eating up the distance between the Slytherin table and yours. His eyes were fixed on you with such singular focus that you couldn’t have looked away if you tried. 

There was a small satisfied smile playing on his lips.

He was enjoying this, the utter bastard. Enjoying the way every eye in the hall was now fixed on you, the way whispers erupted in his wake like the hissing of a hundred snakes.

He came to a stop directly across from you, and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. They were dancing with amusement, and you had the sudden, wild urge to tip your pumpkin juice into his lap.

"Good morning," he said, for all the world as if this were a perfectly normal interaction and not a blatant violation of the unwritten rules that governed breakfast seating arrangements. "Sleep well?"

You gaped at him, too stunned to formulate a response. Beside you, Jo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort hastily disguised as a cough.

Jaemin’s smile widened, showing a flash of teeth. “I’ll take that as a no.” His gaze swept over you, taking in the bags under your eyes, the coffee stains on your robes, the general air of sleep-deprived panic you’d been cultivating all week. “Have you been avoiding me?”

The question was delivered lightly, almost teasingly, but there was an undercurrent to it. A knowing edge that said he was perfectly aware of every corridor you’d ducked down, every meal you’d skipped, every desperate attempt you’d made to stay out of his path.

“Avoiding you?” you repeated with a nervous laugh. “Of course not. I’ve been—I’ve been busy. Studying and stuff.”

“Mm.” He didn’t sound remotely convinced. “Well, you’re not busy now, are you? I need to talk to you.” He paused, letting his gaze sweep meaningfully across the rapt faces surrounding you. “Privately.”

Oh no. Oh no no no.

"Huh?" you said eloquently.

"Talk. Privately," he repeated, enunciating each syllable as if you were a particularly slow-witted troll.

“I’m eating breakfast,” you said weakly, gesturing at your plate where your eggs had gone cold and congealed.

“You can eat later.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “Come on. This won’t take long.”

Every fiber of your being wanted to plant yourself in your seat and force him to either leave or make a scene. But you could feel the weight of the entire school’s attention pressing down on you. 

You glanced around, taking in the avid stares, the blatant eavesdropping, the gleeful anticipation on every face. Even the staff table looked uncommonly interested, with Professor McGonagall peering at you over her spectacles and Flitwick not even pretending not to listen in.

"Fine," you bit out, shoving back from the table with enough force to make the dishes rattle. "Lead the way."

Jaemin inclined his head, that infuriating smile still playing about his lips, and turned to walk out of the hall. You followed, determinedly ignoring the explosion of chatter that erupted in your wake.

He led you out of the castle, across the dew-damp lawn, all the way to the edge of the lake where a lone beech tree stretched its branches over the water. It was, you noted sourly, an incredibly picturesque spot for a clandestine meeting. Almost as if he'd planned it that way.

"All right," you said, crossing your arms and fixing him with your best glare. "What do you want?"

He leaned against the tree trunk, the picture of nonchalance, and regarded you with a calculating expression. "I think you know."

"The favor," you said flatly.

"The favor," he agreed. "Time to pay up, I'm afraid."

Your heart began to race at this, palms turning clammy as every horrible scenario you'd imagined over the past week came rushing back.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Fine. What is it? What do you want me to do?"

Jaemin pushed off the tree and took a few steps toward you until he was so close you could see the individual flecks of gold in his dark eyes. 

He looked down at you, his expression turning serious, almost solemn. "I need you," he said softly, "to be my girlfriend."

What the fuck. 

You stared at him dumbly. Surely he'd said something else—"be my guard friend" or literally anything that made more sense than what you thought you'd heard. But after several seconds of awkward silence he simply stood there, staring back.

"I'm sorry," you said at last. "I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just said—"

"Be my girlfriend," he repeated, enunciating each word carefully. "That's the favor I'm asking."

You searched his face for any sign that this was a prank, or at the very least a bizarre figment of your overtired and overstressed imagination.

But he looked deadly serious, his eyes never leaving yours, his jaw set in a way that suggested he was bracing himself for your reaction.

"Right," you said slowly. "Okay. So you've clearly been hit with a Bludger recently. Or maybe you inhaled some dodgy spores from the Forest?" You peered at him more closely, genuinely concerned now. "I think you might be having some sort of mental episode—"

"I'm not having a mental episode."

You started backing away slowly, hands raised placatingly. “Just stay there, I'm going to go get help. Maybe Madam Pomfrey has an antidote for whatever's happened to your brain—" 

"My brain is fine," Jaemin said, and he actually had the audacity to look amused. "I'm completely serious."

"That's even more concerning!" You threw your hands up. "Jaemin, you can't just—I mean, we barely even—we're not even friends! You spent two years torturing me and then four years pretending I didn't exist! And now you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Fake girlfriend," he corrected.

"Oh, well, that changes everything," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fake girlfriend. Of course. How silly of me. That makes perfect sense."

"It does, actually, if you'd let me explain—"

"No. Absolutely not. This is—this is insane. You've lost your mind. Gone completely round the bend." You started pacing frantically. "You could have literally any girl in this school. Any girl! I’m sure there’s probably a waiting list even. And you want me to pretend to date you?"

"Yes."

"Why?!"

"Because you're perfect for this," he said with a shrug.

You let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "I'm what now?"

"Perfect," he repeated, and there wasn't a trace of humor in his voice now. "Think about it. You're a half-blood—"

"Oh don’t start with that blood purity crap—"

"No, I mean that it works perfectly because you're not involved in pureblood politics. You're not part of my usual social circle. You have no reason to want anything from me or my family beyond this one favor." He was ticking points off on his fingers now. "If we start dating, it'll be believable precisely because it's so unexpected."

"You think people will just believe that we're dating. You and me."

"Why not?"

"Because—" You gestured wildly between the two of you. "—because look at us! You're you, and I'm—I'm me! I spend my free time reading in corners and avoiding human interaction! You spend yours being disgustingly popular and having your pick of the female population! We have nothing in common! We don't even like each other!"

"All excellent points for why no one will suspect it's fake," he said smoothly. "If I were trying to stage a relationship, I’d pick someone more obvious. Someone from my house, someone I'm already friendly with. The fact that it's you makes it more authentic."

You stared at him, your brain struggling to process this absolute madness. "Have you been Imperisued or something? Seriously, I'm genuinely worried about you right now."

"I appreciate your concern," he said dryly. "But I assure you, I'm thinking perfectly clearly."

"Then explain it to me," you demanded, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "Because from where I'm standing, this makes about as much sense as trying to teach a troll how to read. Why on earth would you need a fake girlfriend? You're Na Jaemin! Half the school is in love with you! If you wanted a real girlfriend, you could probably just point at someone and they'd swoon into your arms!"

"That's actually part of the problem," he muttered, and was that... was that a hint of frustration in his voice?

You blinked. "What?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's a girl. Yuna. Her family and mine... they move in the same circles. Have for generations. Old pureblood families, lots of money, all that tedious rubbish."

"Okay...?"

"And lately, she's gotten it into her head that we're meant to be together. That it's our destiny to unite our families, carry on the pureblood tradition, produce the next generation of perfectly bred wizarding heirs." His voice was slightly tinged with disgust. "She won't take no for an answer."

Despite yourself, despite the absolute insanity of this entire situation, you felt a bit of sympathy. "And you don't want that."

"I'd rather wrestle a Hungarian Horntail," he said flatly. "But she's not listening. Every time I tell her I'm not interested, she just smiles and says I'm playing hard to get. That I'll come around eventually."

"That's..." You searched for the appropriate words. "That's actually kind of disturbing."

"It's extremely disturbing," he agreed. "And I can't just tell her to fuck off, because our families... it's complicated. There's business deals, social connections, generations of intertwined pureblood nonsense. If I publicly reject her, it could cause all sorts of problems."

"So you need a girlfriend," you said slowly, finally starting to understand. "A visible reason why you can't be with her."

"Exactly." He gave you a hopeful look. "Someone who won't get caught up in the drama and then can walk away clean when it's over. Someone like you."

You covered your face with your hands and sighed. "This is still insane."

"Is it though?"

"Yes! Completely, utterly, absolutely insane!" You started pacing again. "Jaemin, in case it's escaped your notice, we can barely stand each other! We've barely had a conversation longer than five minutes that didn't involve you annoying me or me wanting to hex you! How exactly do you propose we convince anyone we're madly in love?"

"We don't have to be madly in love," he said. "Just... dating. You know, just act like a regular couple, sit together at meals, go to Hogsmeade on weekends. People see us together, word gets back to Yuna, she backs off. Simple."

"Simple?” you repeated incredulously. "You think any part of this is simple?"

"More simple than the alternative." His expression turned serious. "Look, I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice. But I'm running out of options here, and you're—" He paused. "You're the only person I can trust with this."

That brought you up short. “You barely know me."

"I know enough," he said quietly. "I know you're loyal. I know you'd do anything for your friends, you proved that when you made our deal. I know you're not interested in status or popularity or any of the things most people want from me. And I know that when this is over, you'll keep your word and walk away."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. This wasn't the smug, teasing Jaemin from the patrol or the cold, dismissive one from your earlier years. This was someone... genuine. Vulnerable, even.

"I think I need to sit down," you said faintly.

There was a convenient rock nearby and you sank down onto it, your head spinning.

"So just let me make sure I got it right," you said, staring out at the lake. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend. To protect you from an obsessive pureblood heiress who won't take no for an answer and so you won’t get trapped into a marriage of convenience.”

"That's the gist of it, yes."

"For how long?"

"A month? Maybe two at most."

"Two months?!" You whipped around to stare at him. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for two months? Are you completely off your rocker?!"

“Come on, two months isn’t even that long—"

"Two months is eight weeks! Sixty days! Over a thousand hours of my life spent pretending to be in love with you!" You were nearly hyperventilating now. You shot to your feet, pacing again. 

“Again, no need to be madly in love—"

"And have you thought about the logistics of this?" You spun to face him. "Every girl in this castle is going to hate me! They already probably think we're shagging or something after your little breakfast stunt, and that was two minutes! Imagine two months of that! I'll need to go into witness protection!"

“I think that’s a bit of an overreaction.”

"Jaemin, people will actually want to murder me. There will be attempts on my life. I'll have to taste-test all my food for poison. Sleep with one eye open. Practice a good shield charm—"

"Nobody's going to try to murder you."

"You don’t know that!"

“And we wouldn't even be together the entire time," he continued as if you hadn't spoken. "Just... in public. Where people can see us. The rest of the time you can go back to pretending I don't exist."

You let out a laugh that bordered on hysteria. "Oh, well, that makes it so much better. Thank you for that generous concession."

"Are you finished panicking?" he asked mildly.

You glared at him. "No. No, I'm not finished. I'm just getting started. Do you have any idea how exhausting this sounds? How mortifying? I've spent six years perfecting the art of being invisible, and now you want me to voluntarily become the center of attention? The subject of gossip and speculation? Do you know what that will do to me?"

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

He seemed too casual about all this. It made you wonder if he did this sort of thing often. Not that it would be surprising, purebloods had weird customs that you could never begin to understand.

"Okay," you said slowly after a few seconds of gathering what little patience you had. "Okay. Let's say—and I'm not agreeing to anything—but let's say I did this. Don't you think people would find it a bit suspicious? Us dating out of nowhere? We've barely spoken in years. We're not friends or even friendly. People aren't stupid, Jaemin."

"We'll say we've been keeping it quiet," he said, like he'd already thought this through. "We didn’t want the attention, wanted to make sure it was real before we went public. No one will question it if we sell it right."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" You fixed him with a glare.

“Easy. We make it look like we can't keep our hands off each other. You know, hold hands, and that sort of thing. Make it look convincing."

“You want me to hold your hand?”

"Among other things."

"What does that even mean…?”

"Well, we'd have to play it convincingly," he said reasonably. "Couples don't just hold hands. They sit close. They touch. They..." He paused, his eyes glinting with amusement. "They kiss occasionally."

"KISS?!" The word came out as a strangled shriek. "You want me to kiss you?!"

"I mean, not right now necessarily—"

“Oh, you’re barking mad if you think I will kiss you!”

"Come on, y/n. It's just a bit of acting. Surely a clever girl like you can manage that?" His voice dropped, turning silky and persuasive.

You bristled slightly at the blatant flattery even as some traitorous part of you warmed at the compliment. "And what's in it for me? Besides the joy of being glared at by every girl in this castle and kissing your dumb face?"

"The fact that I won’t tell McGonagall about your little friend’s nocturnal escapade isn’t enough for you?” he reminded you.

You froze, shoulders tensing. "You're really going to hold me to that? For something this insane?"

"A deal's a deal. I helped you and nowI need your help."

"I don't know," you said slowly. "This is...it's a lot to ask."

"I know." He took another step closer, his eyes intent on yours. "But I'm asking anyway. I need your help, y/n. Please."

You had agreed to this. You had shaken his hand, accepted his help, promised him a favor. And now he was calling it in.

"This is blackmail," you said weakly.

"It's really not."

You stared at him, at his stupidly handsome face and his infuriating certainty, and felt the trap closing around you. You still could refuse,  tell him to shove his favor and walk away. But then he could—would—tell McGonagall about Jo. And Jo would be expelled. And it would be all your fault.

"Fuck," you groaned.

"Is that a yes then? he said. 

You truly hated everything about this.

Still, you heard yourself say, "Two months. That's it. And we need to set ground rules, boundaries. I'm not going to do anything that makes me uncomfortable."

Relief flashed across his face, there and gone so quickly you might have imagined it. "Okay, that’s fair."

"And when it's over, we go back to normal. No hard feelings. We just... end it and move on."

"Agreed." He held out a hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "So. Do we have a deal?"

You hesitated for a long moment, your heart pounding so hard you were certain he must be able to hear it. This was, without question, the most insane thing you had ever considered doing. It was reckless and impulsive and had the potential to blow up in your face in a truly spectacular fashion.

But looking up into Jaemin's eyes, seeing something that might have been hope or desperation or both, you found yourself reaching out and taking his hand anyway.

"Deal," you said, and sealed your fate for the second time in a week.

"Excellent." His smile was pure satisfaction. "I'll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow. Try to look a little pleased to see me and not like you want to murder me."

"I make no promises," you muttered.

As you walked back toward the castle, your mind whirling with the absolute insanity of what you'd just agreed to, one thought kept circling back:

Na Jaemin, Slytherin prince and general menace to your sanity, wanted you to be his fake girlfriend.

Jo was never going to believe this.

A waking nightmare—that was the only way to describe the days following the grand revelation of your supposed relationship.

It felt as though Hogwarts had contracted a plague, a virulent strain of "Y/N-and-Jaemin" fever that consumed everyone from the dungeons to the astronomy tower. No one could quite wrap their heads around the unlikely pairing of a Gryffindor nobody and the Slytherin prince, and that confusion turned into a collective obsession.

Everywhere you went, eyes followed. First-years openly gawked as you passed. Third-years whispered behind their hands, their eyes following your every move with ravenous curiosity. Even the portraits seemed more interested in your comings and goings, their painted heads swiveling to track your progress through the corridors.

Horrible as the attention was, the rumors were worse. Wild, baseless theories seemed to spawn from thin air, multiplying with the rapid, disgusting speed of Horklumps in a garden.

“They've been secretly dating since third year,” one voice hissed in the corridor, “before he was even popular, I heard.”

The theories only grew more ridiculous from there. According to a Ravenclaw, you had saved his life during a Quidditch match—or perhaps from a rogue curse. One Hufflepuff swore on her life she’d seen the two of you kissing in the Astronomy Tower a year ago. Most sinister of all were the whispers of blackmail or pranks, culminating in the one theory that nearly made you choke on your pumpkin juice: “Oh Merlin, do you think she’s pregnant?”

The attention was suffocating, oppressive, like being trapped in a greenhouse in the middle of summer with no windows and too many people pressing their faces against the glass. You couldn't breathe without someone noting it, vouldn't eat without a dozen pairs of eyes watching every bite, and couldn't so much as sneeze without someone speculating about whether Jaemin would find it endearing.

And as if the whole thing wasn’t a nightmare already, there was Jaemin himself. Whatever level of insufferable he had occupied before was nothing compared to this new persona: the devoted boyfriend that was attentive, affectionate, and clearly determined to make the charade as mortifying as humanly possible.

He'd materialize at your elbow between classes, his arrival heralded by the subtle scent of broom polish that never quite left his robes and that you were beginning to recognize with Pavlovian dread. He'd fall into step beside you with that athletic grace of his, his hand finding the small of your back with proprietary confidence.

“There you are,” he’d say, his voice carrying an affected breathlessness as if he’d been searching the entire castle rather than simply memorizing your schedule. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you,” came your flat reply, as you struggled to ignore the sudden weight of a hundred curious stares pinning you to the spot.

“Mm.” Without an ounce of hesitation, his hand would slide around your waist, hauling you firmly against his side. “Missed you in Charms. You disappeared before I could catch you.”

“I was in a rush,” you’d mutter, omitting the fact that the rush was specifically to escape him.

“I know.” His smile would be warm and intimate, a masterpiece of conviction. “Let’s walk together next time. I can’t stand being away from my princess for too long.”

A collective swoon would ripple through the nearby students at the display.

Mealtimes offered no reprieve. He'd bypass his usual spot at the Slytherin table entirely, crossing the Great Hall with long strides to slide onto the bench beside you at Gryffindor. The first time he'd done it, the entire Hall had gone silent, hundreds of heads swiveling to watch as Na Jaemin—too cool for cross-house fraternization—planted himself among the lions.

“Morning, princess,” he’d announce, his voice projecting just far enough for half the table to catch. A casual kiss to your temple followed, delivered with such affection that you nearly lost your balance on the bench.

A sharp kick from Jo connected with your shin under the table. Smile, her wide-eyed expression screamed. You’re supposed to be in love with him, remember?

Obediently, you’d attempt a smile. Though it likely looked more like a pained grimace, Jaemin seemed satisfied enough. His arm draped across your shoulders as he reached for the orange juice, acting as if this were the most natural routine in the world.

Every meal followed the same suffocating pattern. He was always there, a solid line of warmth pressed against your side. Beneath the table, his thigh would brush against yours, making you hyperaware of his every shift. Often, his hand would rest on your knee, his thumb tracing absent patterns that felt far too intimate for public consumtion. Occasionally he’d lean in, murmuring something pointless like “Pass the salt” or “Your hair looks nice today” into your ear—but to the rest of the room, it looked like he was whispering sweet nothings.

The Great Hall devoured every crumb of the spectacle.

But while the general student body watched with wide-eyed fascination, you were forced to contend with a far more dangerous audience: the inner circle.

Jaemin’s friends were not merely students; they were the closest thing Hogwarts had to a royal court. To exist within the castle walls was to know them by reputation—a collection of wealthy, beautiful purebloods who navigated the drafty corridors with the effortless entitlement of aristocrats. Yet, observing them from the safety of the Gryffindor table was entirely different from being the direct target of their scrutiny.

Giselle led the first offensive.

She didn't walk so much as glide, approaching the Gryffindor table like an elegant snake. Everything about her was designed to intimidate, from the lethal sharpness of her cheekbones to the glossy waves of hair that fell perfectly down her back. Even her uniform defied the rules; her tie was knotted into an oversized, rebellious bow that no prefect would ever have the courage to cite as a dress-code violation.

“Jaemin,” she purred, ignoring your existence entirely as she draped herself against the table. “We’ve missed you at breakfast. The Slytherin table is positively bereft without your presence.”

“I’m sure you’re all managing,” Jaemin replied, his tone conversational and mild. He didn't move his arm from its proprietary position across your shoulders.

“Barely.” Only then did her eyes slide toward you in a slow, assessing sweep that made you feel like a piece of furniture being appraised for auction. “And this must be the famous girlfriend. Y/N, was it?”

“Yes,” you managed, forced to swallow against the sudden dryness in your throat to keep your voice from cracking.

“Mm.” Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “How… unexpected. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken before, have we? What house are you in again?”

The question was a blatant insult, considering you were currently sitting at the Gryffindor table draped in scarlet and gold.

“Gryffindor,” you ground out through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right. Of course.” She paused to examine her dark green nails. “I always have trouble keeping track of the… quieter students. You must be one of those studious types. The ones who hide in the library all day.”

Boring. Forgettable. Beneath notice. The implication was clear. Beside you, Jo’s hand whitened as her grip tightened around her fork.

“I suppose so,” you said, choosing caution over a confrontation you weren't prepared to win.

“Cute.” Giselle’s smile widened, though it never reached her eyes. “Jaemin’s never been much for books, have you, Jaem? More of a... social creature. Though I’m sure you two have found something in common to keep things interesting.”

Beside you, Jaemin remained a statue of calm, taking a slow sip of his tea as if he were watching a particularly dull play rather than a verbal execution.

The pressure didn't let up as the days went on. A few days later, Changmin intercepted the two of you in the crowded corridor between Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Towering and broad-shouldered, he possessed the rugged, athletic build of a seasoned Beater. He didn't need words to dominate the space; his presence alone caused younger students to scatter like leaves. When he looked at you, his smile was so predatory and sharp it made you think of a wolf finally closing in on a scent it had been tracking for miles.

"So this is her," Changmin said, his eyes traveling over you with clinical detachment. "Have to say, mate, when you said you were seeing someone, I pictured… I don't know. Someone different."

Jaemin’s voice remained light, though his eyes turned piercing. "What do you mean?"

"Just… different." A shrug followed, along with a dismissive flick of his gaze. "No offense, of course."

"Of course," you echoed through a tight jaw.

"It’s just surprising, is all." Changmin gestured vaguely with one hand. "You’ve always gone for a certain type, and she’s… well, not that."

Not pretty enough, you knew he meant.

Jaemin’s arm hooked around you, pulling you into his side. "She’s exactly my type," he countered. "Perfect, actually."

His words were meant to be reassuring but they'd just made you feel more like a prop in whatever game he was playing.

A shift in strategy occurred by the following week. The subtle snubs evolved into a coordinated siege as Changmin and Giselle began appearing together, a united front of immaculate hair, expensive robes, and thinly veiled hostility.

They seemed to materialize in every common space you frequented, armed with false smiles and poisonous pleasantries. Every interaction was a minefield; every question was a calculated probe designed to expose the fraying seams in your story.

Their interrogation didn't stop at the legitimacy of your relationship. They began taking aim at the very fabric of your life... Quite literally.

"Those robes," Giselle remarked during a chance encounter in the corridor, her eyes sweeping over your silhouette with a look of practiced pity. "Are they... vintage? They have that distinctive, worn quality. That 'hand-me-down' aesthetic."

The fabric felt suddenly heavy and scratchy against your skin. They had been your mother's, mended with care and kept clean through sheer effort, but they lacked the shimmer of new silk. Heat flooded your face, a hot prickle of shame you hated yourself for feeling.

"They're fine," you muttered, clutching your books tighter to your chest.

"Oh, I'm sure they're perfectly serviceable," she added, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Not everyone has the luxury of replacing their wardrobe every season, after all."

Changmin leaned across the table, his expression open and conversational, though his eyes remained predatory.

"So, what does your father do for work?" he asked, swirling the pumpkin juice in his goblet as if it were a fine vintage. "My father sits on the Wizengamot, of course. And Giselle’s family runs one of the largest potions corporations in Europe. It's always so interesting to hear what other families do."

"He works for the Ministry," you said shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on your plate.

"Oh? How prestigious. Which department? International Magical Cooperation? The Auror Office?"

"Magical Maintenance."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to suffocate. You didn't need to look up to feel the shockwave of silent communication passing between them. You could practically hear the click of the mental locks falling into place: the suppressed smirks, the shared glances, and the smug, knowing silence that broadcast exactly what they thought of your family’s status. You weren't just the 'wrong type' for Jaemin; in their eyes, you were a glitch in the social order.

"Very honest work, I’m sure," Giselle added finally, her voice carrying just enough to be heard at the neighboring tables. "Someone has to keep the toilets functioning."

Jo who'd been next to you the whole time, bolted upright, her face flushed a dangerous shade of scarlet. You moved instinctively, grabbing her arm and hauling her back into her seat before she could cause a scene.

The real ambush, however, didn't come until Friday evening.

You'd been in the library trying to calculate the magical decay of a complex curse for your Arithmancy assignment. Beside you, Jaemin had been hovering for the better part of an hour, his presence a persistent distraction.

"If you carry the nine there," he whispered, his long finger hovering over your string of equations, "doesn't the probability of a backfire increase by 12%?"

"No, Jaemin," you huffed, rubbing your temples where a dull ache was beginning to bloom. "This isn't Divination. You cannot simply guess your way through Arithmancy. Seven is a powerful magical prime, but in an inverted sequence, its weight is halved. I am trying to ensure you don't accidentally liquefy your own bones during the NEWTs."

"Right, right. Half the weight, double the trouble," he murmured. He wasn't even pretending to look at the numbers anymore; his gaze was fixed on the way you were biting your lip in concentration. "Explain the Pythagorean bridge to me again? That was very sexy."

A sharp retort about his lack of focus was halfway up your throat when the shadows fell over the table.

Giselle and Changmin. They were flanked by Sungchan, another Quidditch type you vaguely recognized, and a fourth person whose presence made the air leave your lungs in a rush.

Yuna.

She stood there, ice-blonde and perfectly beautiful. You felt Jaemin’s posture stiffen beside you. You hadn't known. He’d never mentioned she was part of his circle, that she was this close to the people he spent every waking hour with. The "fake" part of your relationship suddenly felt dangerously flimsy.

"Study date?" Giselle asked, sliding into the seat directly across from you. "I’m sorry, is that a textbook, Jaemin? I thought you used those as coasters."

Jaemin didn't look up from your parchment. "We're just working."

"It’s Friday night," Sungchan cut in, leaning heavily against a nearby bookshelf. "The guys are sneaking kegs of firewhisky into the common room as we speak. There’s a party starting in ten minutes, mate. We’ve been looking for you for an hour."

"I'm clearly busy, aren’t I?" Jaemin finally looked up, his voice hardening.

Yuna stepped forward, her dark eyes narrowing as she focused on you for the first time.

"Y/N, right?" she said, her voice a soft, melodic contrast to the tension. "What exactly have you done to him? Jaemin hasn't missed a Friday night since third year. And yet, here he is, looking at... what is that? Arithmancy?"

"It’s important for the exams," you said, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. "And he's actually quite good at it when he tries."

A snort of pure skepticism escaped Yuna. "Since when is calculating the weight of a hex more entertaining than a party?"

"Since I realized I was failing," Jaemin interjected smoothly, reaching out to lace his fingers with yours atop the table. You knew it was a calculated move, a public display for the one person who mattered. "Y/N pointed out that if I don't pass the Arithmancy boards, I won't be able to take the advanced Theo-Magic track next year. She's very persuasive when she wants to be."

"Persuasive, huh?" Giselle repeated, though her eyes flicked toward Yuna to gauge her reaction. “I can only imagine the things she can do, if she’s managed to make you skip every single party since you started dating.”

Giselle’s implication was blatant, dripping with enough tawdry subtext to make your cheeks flame. You looked at Jaemin, waiting for him to shred her with his notorious silver tongue. Instead, he remained maddeningly static. Only the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his irritation.

“Did you know there’s actually a betting pool regarding how long youll two last?” Yuna asked, her tone conversational, as if she were discussing the Quidditch scores than your social execution. “The smart money says two weeks. That is, if the novelty doesn’t wear off by Tuesday.”

The news hit your stomach with a cold, hollow thud. “There’s a what?”

“Don’t look so scandalized.” she waved a hand, her emerald ring catching the light. “It’s nothing personal, darling. People adore a spectacle, and this is a bewildering one. Jaemin has spent years as the prize everyone was chasing, and then he suddenly chooses...”

She trailed off. Her silence was more eloquent than any insult.

"The weird girl who hides in corners," Sungchan supplied helpfully. "No offense."

"Loads taken," you snapped before you could stop yourself.

“So defensive.” Yuna chuckled cruelly.

“That’s enough,” Jaemin said. His voice lost its playful lilt, replaced by a low edge. It was the sound of a predator deciding a conversation had reached its conclusion.

“We’re just teasing, Jaem. Don’t be so sensitive.” Giselle stood, smoothing her robes. “If Y/N is going to be part of our inner circle, she’ll need a thicker skin. We aren't known for our gentleness.”

“I am dating Jaemin,” you said, your voice finally steady. “Not applying to be your friend.”

The temperature at the table dropped approximately ten degrees.

“Well,” Yuna said, her delicate features arranging themselves into an expression of theatrical, wide-eyed surprise. “It seems the little bird has claws after all."

They had successfully poked at the seams of your composure and were now departing before the scene became truly messy.

"A little parting advice, Y/N," Giselle said, pausing as she turned. "The more defensive you become, the more it appears as though you’re hiding something. And in this school, secrets are the only currency that matters."

Then they were gone. The only sound left was the rustle of their expensive robes fading into the library stacks. You sat there, shaking, while Jaemin’s fingers remained locked with yours.

“They’re foul,” you muttered, the sharp thud of your textbook echoing too loudly against the mahogany table. “Your friends are actually vipers, Jaemin.”

“I know.” His reply was flat, lacking any of the heat you were looking for. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” You yanked your hand away from his, suddenly angry at him. “Because you just sat there like a statue. You let them say all that, and you didn't even blink.”

“And what did you want me to do? Start a row in the middle of the library?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe defend me!” The words burst out, earning a sharp, hawk-like “Shh!” from Madam Pince.

You leaned in, dropping your voice to a fierce whisper. “Tell them they’re being cruel. Tell them to sod off! But you just sat there looking like you were enjoying the show.”

Jaemin didn't answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as he studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes.

“If I get too defensive, they’ll know something’s up,” he said eventually. “You heard Giselle, she's looking for a reaction. That’s what they’re all doing. They're looking for proof that we’re lying. The more I protest, the more suspicious they get.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit there and take it?” You felt a hot sting behind your eyes and hated yourself for it. “I have to let them slag me off and talk rubbish about my family, all to keep your precious cover story alive?”

“Just for a bit,” he insisted. “Once they’re convinced it’s real, they’ll back off. But right now, they’re testing us. They’re testing you. And if we want this to work, you have to pass.”

“I’m trying to pass the bloody test!” you hissed, your voice rising again.

“Trying, yeah.” He leaned forward, his shadow falling over your parchment. “But you’re not being very convincing, Y/N.”

Your face flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you always look uncomfortable.” He ran a hand through his hair, his composure finally fraying. “You look miserable, Y/N. Constantly. Like being near me is a form of torture.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly a holiday,” you shot back.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” he continued, ignoring the jab. “I know you didn't want this. But we made a deal, and if you keep acting like I’m a Dementor every time I come within a foot of you, no one is going to believe this.”

“So what? You want me to swoon? Hang off your arm like a mindless doll?”

“I want you to look like you can at least tolerate me,” he cut in, his tone sharpening. “I want you to stop flinching when I hold your hand. Lean into me instead of going rigid as a board. Smile, Y/N. A real one, not that grimace you do when people are watching.”

“That’s the best I can do.”

“Well, your best isn’t good enough.” He looked at the library door, then back at you. “Giselle asked me why you’re so tense all the time. I told her you were shy about public affection, but that excuse only works for so long.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a cocktail of fury.

“Maybe you should’ve picked someone who actually wanted to be your girlfriend.”

“I picked you because I thought you were smart enough to pull this off, but if you can't... ” He trailed off, shaking his head. "If you can’t even manage to stay in the same room as me without looking like you’d rather be drowning in the lake, the whole thing falls apart.”

"So will you be satisfied if I start kissing the floor you walk on? " you asked bitterly.

“It’d be a start,” he said simply. “Look, I know they’re awful. But you need to try harder. Stop pulling away. Stop acting like my touch is burning you.”

“It is burning me,” you muttered. You didn't mean to say it out loud, and you immediately wished you could swallow the words back down.

Jaemin’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”

“Nothing.” You stood up abruptly, gathering your things with fumbling hands. “Forget it. I’ll try harder, alright? I’ll be more convincing. I’ll smile and lean in and act like I’m absolutely mad about you. Is that what you want?”

“Y/N, wait—”

“I’m going back to the common room.” You slung your bag over your shoulder, refusing to look at him. “I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ll be sure to put on a proper show.”

“That’s not what I—”

But you didn’t stay to hear the rest. You turned and walked away, your vision blurring slightly as you navigated between the towering bookshelves, Madam Pince's disapproving glare following you all the way to the exit.

Behind you, you heard Jaemin sigh, but he didn’t call after you.

Just as well. You needed to be anywhere but near him.

Expectations of a smooth public performance next morning were shattered the moment Jaemin actually appeared. You had braced yourself for the usual, the effortless slide onto the bench, the heavy weight of his arm claiming your space, and that charming attitude that suggested your library row had been nothing more than a minor blip.

Instead, the Jaemin who approached the table looked like he’d gone several rounds with a rogue Bludger. His tie was a shambles, hanging loose around his collar, and his hair was a chaotic nest of blonde strands as if he’d spent the early hours of the morning dragging his hands through it in frustration. He didn't sit, but lingered at the edge of the bench with a strange, jittery energy.

"Can we talk?"

The question was a mere breath under the noise of clattering plates and the morning owl post.

You looked back down at your porridge. "About what?"

"Yesterday." He sounded nervous, not the polished Pureblood prince, but a boy who was genuinely out of his depth. "Please?"

Jo delivered a sharp kick to your shin under the table. Why did she keep doing that?! You winced, the sting jolting you out of your stubborn trance. Against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding.

"Fine. Where?"

"Third floor. The corridor by the one-eyed witch statue." He checked his watch, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the wood of the table. "Ten o'clock?"

"That’s oddly specific," you muttered, finally meeting his eyes.

"Just—trust me on this. Please?"

There was that word again. Please. It was a far cry from the boy who had told you your best wasn't good enough yesterday. And because you were apparently a glutton for punishment, you felt your resolve crumble.

"Ten o'clock," you agreed.

He didn't offer a smirk or a wink for the benefit of the watching Great Hall. He simply gave a tight nod and sat down, keeping a conspicuous gap between your shoulder and his.

Stone walls and guttering torches made the third floor just as drab as the rest of the castle. A few portraits dozed in their frames, and the statue of the one-eyed witch stood sentinel at the far end, her painted eyes seeming to follow your every move with an almost unsettling intensity.

Five minutes of waiting had already passed, which was roughly four minutes and fifty seconds longer than it took to start feeling like a total idiot.

Just as the urge to bolt back to the safety of the common room became overwhelming, the rhythmic scuff of boots echoed against the flagstones. Jaemin rounded the corner, his usual swagger replaced by a stiff gait. You drew a breath, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove this clandestine little meeting, but he hoisted a hand to silence you.

"Before you lay into me," he started, coming to a halt just out of arm’s reach, "I want to apologize. Properly. For yesterday."

The anger you’d been carefully stoking for the last twelve hours flickered and died, leaving you feeling strangely hollow. "Oh."

"I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right." He dragged a hand through his hair, a sign of genuine nerves that made him more like a tired teenager. "You’re right. This situation is mental. My friends are absolute vultures, and I’ve been asking you to stand in the middle of the pack without giving you a single bit of support."

"I mean... yeah." You leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to hide how much that small bit of validation actually mattered. "That has been the arrangement so far, hasn't it?"

"Well, it’s a rubbish arrangement." He stepped into your personal space, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that felt far too real. "I want to make this bearable for you. But for that to happen, I think we need to... practice."

"Practice?"

"At being comfortable," he explained, as if he were simply suggesting a bit of extra Quidditch drills. "You said my touching burns. Not literally, I hope, but—" He gestured between the two of you. "There’s this tension. This massive wall between us. People can see it, Y/N. It’s written all over you."

"Right. So your grand plan is..."

"Exposure therapy," he said. "We need to get accustomed to one another. And we need to do it without an audience watching your every flinch."

A snort almost escaped you as you processed the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. It felt like a scene ripped straight from one of those tawdry novels Jo kept hidden in her trunk, the ones with titles like The Warlock’s Wicked Whim.

But beneath the embarrassment sat a cold, hard logic you couldn't ignore. Every time his skin brushed yours, your heart panicked. You went rigid, your breath hitched, and your pulse became a frantic drumbeat in your ears. If you could feel that visceral wrongness vibrating through your bones, then vipers like Giselle and Yuna could definitely tell too.

"And you want to do this here?" A wary glance down the drafty corridor followed, half-expecting a gaggle of students to peek around the corner, eager for a glimpse of the castle's most talked-about couple. "What if someone comes by?"

"They won't." Jaemin started walking again, gesturing for you to follow. "That’s the whole point of meeting on this floor."

Confusion was about to mount into another argument when he came to a sudden halt in front of a completely unremarkable stretch of stone wall. Without a word, he began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, his brow furrowed in a look of intense concentration.

For a moment, you just watched him, convinced that he'd finally cracked under the pressure and that this whole fake relationship scheme had driven him round the bend. You were seconds away from suggesting a firm dose of Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey when the masonry began to ripple.

Solid stone blurred and shimmered like the surface of the Black Lake under a midday sun. Then, with a low, tectonic grind, an ornate wooden door bled into existence.

Your mouth fell open. You'd heard of this, of course. Read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History'. But reading about something and seeing it happen right in front of your eyes were two very different things.

"The Room of Requirement," you breathed, awe temporarily overriding your general state of irritation.

"The Room of Requirement," Jaemin confirmed, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice. "I figured if we're going to do this, we should do it somewhere we won't be interrupted."

"Unless you don't want to?" he asked, and there was a carefulness to the question, an unspoken offer of an out. "I know this is... I know it's a lot to ask. But I really think it'll help. I do."

You stared at the door, your mind whirling. This was insane. Completely, utterly, certifiably insane. Practicing feeling comfortable with Na Jaemin in a magical room that appeared out of thin air? This was your life now? This was what your Hogwarts experience had come to?

But what was the alternative? Continue on as you had been, flinching and grimacing your way through this charade until even the most gullible Hufflepuff could see right through you? Let Jaemin's awful friends pick and prod at you until you broke?

No. No, as much as it pained you to admit it, Jaemin was right. If you were going to make it through this with your dignity remotely intact, you had to stop being the weak link. You needed to become a better liar. 

And if that meant subjecting yourself to Merlin knows what kind of 'practice' in a secret magic room... well. So be it.

“I swear if this is some kind of prank…”

"It's not." He pushed open the door, warm, inviting light spilling out into the corridor. "I promise."

The moment you crossed the threshold, you felt a strange sensation wash over you. Like stepping into a warm bath after a long, cold day. The room was...not at all what you expected. It was smaller, cozier. There was a plush sofa against one wall, a few cushy armchairs arranged around a low coffee table. The lighting was soft, emanating from no discernible source, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla and old books. It felt safe, somehow. Comforting. Which only served to put you more on edge.

"So," you said, crossing your arms over your chest as the door swung shut behind you with a soft, final-sounding click. "You brought me here to practice. Practice what, exactly?"

Jaemin had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Intimacy."

"I'm sorry, what?”

"Not—not like that," he said quickly, and was that a hint of a flush on his cheeks? Surely not. Na Jaemin didn't get flustered. It must be a trick of the light. "I mean... being close.. and comfortable enough to casually touch each other. You know, the things couples do in public that you keep shying away from."

"You make it sound so simple," you muttered, feeling a blush rise to your own cheeks despite your best efforts. 

"It’s not that big of a deal." He gestured to the sofa. "Look, we're going to have to spend the next two months being physically affectionate in front of the entire school. And right now, every time I so much as brush against you, you look like you'd rather be facing a herd of centaurs. So we need to practice. To make it feel normal."

Normal. What a ludicrous concept. There was nothing normal about this. But you bit back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. You’d agreed to this madness, and backing out now would only make you look more pathetic.

"Right. So you want me to get used to you pawing at me."

"I do not paw—" He cut himself off, taking a visible breath to steady himself. "I want you to get used to me touching you in a completely respectful, non-pawing way.

You stared at him and he stared back. You could practically hear the seconds ticking by, feel the weight of the impasse settling over the room.

"Fine," you said at last, the word feeling like it was being dragged out of you with fish hooks. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

His shoulders relaxed, the tension in his jaw easing just a fraction. "Just… come sit with me. We'll start slow."

He settled onto the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. You approached warily, lowering yourself onto the opposite end and putting as much distance between your bodies as physically possible. Jaemin looked at the three-foot chasm of empty space and raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to have to get closer than that."

"This is close."

"You’re barely sitting on the couch."

"Baby steps," you muttered.

"We don't have time for baby steps." But his voice was gentle, coaxing. "Come on. I don't bite."

That remains to be seen, you thought. But despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you scooted closer. Then a bit closer still. You stopped in the middle of the sofa, a foot of space still separating you, but closer than you'd ever voluntarily been to him outside of your mandated public displays.

"Better," Jaemin said, and the soft, approving lilt in his voice sent a traitorous flutter through your stomach. "Now, I'm going to put my arm around you. Like I do at meals. And I want you to try not to tense up. Okay?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake.

Slowly, broadcasting his movements like he was approaching a skittish animal, he lifted his arm, draping it across the back of the sofa. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, the weight of it startling in its warmth, its solidity.

Instantly, you felt your entire body go rigid, your muscles locking up like you'd been hit with a full body bind curse. Every nerve ending was suddenly alight, hyper-aware of the exact dimensions of his palm, the precise pressure of each individual finger.

"You’re doing it again," he murmured. His voice was much closer than you’d expected. "Tensing up."

"I know," you gritted out. "I’m trying."

"Here." His other hand hovered just shy of your arm, hesitant. "Just breathe. Focus on that."

Breathe. Right. You could manage that.

You sucked in a breath, held it for a count of three, and forced it out. You repeated the cycle until the iron bands of your muscles began to slacken, slowly adjusting to the foreign sensation of him.

"Good," Jaemin whispered. "See? Not so terrible."

"It’s weird," you countered. It was unsettling and entirely too much. "You’re weird. This whole thing is mental."

"Noted." There was a definite streak of amusement in his tone now. "But you aren't flinching. That’s progress."

He was right. The initial shock of the contact was fading, replaced by a strange sort of...not comfort, exactly. Awareness, maybe. You were intensely conscious of the weight of his arm, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed next to you.

The feeling wasn't the searing, blistering heat you'd stupidly mentioned yesterday in a moment of unthinking frustration. But it was a lot. Intimate in a way you weren't at all prepared for, in a way that made your heart thud traitorously against your rib cage.

"Okay," Jaemin said after the silence had stretched out just long enough to teeter on the edge of uncomfortable. "Next step. I'm going to pull you a bit closer. Like I do when we're walking to class."

"Do you really need to narrate every little thing?" You couldn't help the note of exasperation that crept into your voice.

"I'm trying not to spook you."

"I'm not a skittish woodland creature."

"Could've fooled me," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

Before you could formulate a properly scathing response, he drew you firmly into his side. Your instinct was to lock up again, but you fought it. This close, the scent of him was overwhelming—clean linen, and a subtle hint of broomstick polish.

It was disorienting. Overwhelming. But...not entirely unpleasant, if you were being honest with yourself. Which you absolutely were not going to be, because that way lay madness.

"Are you okay?" Jaemin asked, and his voice lacked his usual arrogance, sounding instead like he was actually concerned about your boundaries.

For a dizzying second, you wondered if there was more to him than the unflappable, silver-tongued Slytherin. Was this just as strange and unsettling for him? You pushed the thought away immediately. Thinking of Jaemin as a real person with real nerves was a one-way trip to jagged rocks and shark-infested waters. He was a means to an end. A necessary evil.

"It's fine," you said, and if your voice came out a little breathier than usual, a little less steady, well. That was nobody's business but your own. “Not terrible, I suppose."

"High praise, coming from you," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, could practically feel the curve of his lips where they brushed against your hair. 

You chose to ignore that, focusing instead on keeping your breathing steady and your heartbeat under control.

Time passed, seconds or minutes or hours, you couldn't quite tell. The room had narrowed down to the weight of Jaemin's arm around you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the soft sounds of your breathing intermingling in the quiet room.

The whole thing was almost peaceful, provided you let yourself forget exactly who he was and why you were here.

“How much longer do we have to do this?” you asked eventually, when the silence and the sensation started to feel like too much.

Jaemin shrugged, the movement jostling you slightly. “Until it feels normal, I guess. Or at least not horribly awkward.”

You let out a long sigh. “We’re going to be here a while, then.”

He laughed, the sound warm and resonant in the small room. “Probably. But look on the bright side—at least the couch is comfortable, right?”

You made a noncommittal noise, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an agreement.

“Just think,” he continued, a teasing lilt returning to his voice, “a few more of these sessions and we’ll be the most convincing couple Hogwarts has ever seen. We’ll put the real ones to shame.”

“Be still my beating heart,” you deadpanned. “What a glittering future.”

“We’ll practice the basics for now. Then we’ll work our way up.”

“Work our way up to what, exactly?” You regretted the question the moment it left your lips. His arm tightened slightly, and his voice took on a silkier quality.

“Well,” he said, “eventually, we’re going to have to practice kissing.”

You practically launched yourself off the cushions at that. You scrambled to the very edge of the sofa, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The distance between you was back to a yawning three feet in a matter of seconds.

He’d mentioned kissing when he proposed this mad arrangement in the first place but you genuinely thought he’d been trying to ruffle you. The prospect of actually kissing Na Jaemin was so far outside your comfort zone it felt like another planet.

“Absolutely not!” you gasped, your eyes wide with genuine alarm. “Not happening. Not in this lifetime.”

Jaemin stared at you, his arm still draped over the empty space where your shoulder had been a moment ago. He looked startled by your sudden flight, but it only took a second for that lazy amusement to crawl back onto his face.

“It’s going to come up, Y/N,” he said, dropping his arm and leaning back comfortably, as if he hadn't just suggested something world-ending. “Couples kiss. Especially 'new' couples who are supposedly mad about each other. If the first time I kiss you is in front of the entire Great Hall and you look like you’re about to be sick, the game is up.”

“I get it,” you snapped, your face feeling like it was being held over a Bunsen burner. “I get it. But we’re not—I mean, we don’t need to do that. It’s way too much.”

“We don’t have to do it today,” he agreed, his voice surprisingly gentle as he watched you vibrate with nerves at the end of the sofa. “We’ll work up to it slowly. Baby steps, remember?”

“I hate this,” you mumbled, slowly sinking back into the upholstery, though you stayed firmly out of arm's reach.

“I know,” he said, his eyes tracking you with a look that was far too observant for your liking. “But you’re getting much better at pretending you don't.”

The witching hour, that eerie stretch of night when all respectable souls should be tucked safely in their beds, found you instead padding down the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, your dressing gown pulled tight around you and your wand tip illuminating the way. 

It was a terrible idea, really, wandering the castle at this hour. You were a prefect, for Merlin's sake. You knew the rules better than most. Out of bed after curfew, risking detention or worse, all for what? A craving for something sweet that couldn't wait until the civilized hours of morning?

But sleep had proven elusive, your mind refusing to quiet, insisting instead on replaying the events of the past week in excruciatingly vivid detail. The practice sessions with Jaemin in the Room of Requirement featured most prominently, of course. The steadily shrinking distance between your bodies, the way his touch was beginning to feel almost... familiar.

You were making progress. Which was precisely the problem.

So now, at an absolutely unreasonable hour, you found yourself seeking solace in the kitchens. If you were going to be awake anyway, you might as well have a biscuit to keep you company.

You reached the portrait of the fruit bowl, tucked away in a corridor no one ever noticed, and tickled the pear. It squirmed and giggled, as it always did, before transforming into a door handle.

The kitchens were a welcome oasis of warmth, the vaulted ceilings echoing with the industrious sounds of house-elves going about their nightly duties—kneading dough for the morning's bread, organizing the pantry, scrubbing the massive cauldrons until they shone. They looked up as you entered, surprise evident on their wrinkled little faces.

"Miss!" squeaked a particularly diminutive elf, hurrying over to you, her tea towel toga flapping about her knees. "Miss should be in bed! Is Miss hungry? Was something not to Miss's liking at dinner?"

"No, no," you assured her quickly, crouching down to her level with a smile. "Dinner was wonderful, as always. I just couldn't sleep and thought a little something sweet might help."

The elf's large eyes widened further, a delighted smile stretching her mouth. "Oh yes, yes! Dipsy can help! We has treacle tart left over from dinner, and chocolate biscuits, and Dipsy can bring fresh cream for Miss's tea—"

"Just a biscuit or two would be lovely," you said. "And maybe a bit of that apple tart, if there's any left? I don't want to make extra work for you."

"Is no work at all!" Dipsy insisted, already scurrying off toward the enormous cooling racks that lined one wall. "Is Dipsy's pleasure to serve! Miss sit, sit! Dipsy will bring tea!"

And so you found yourself perched on a stool at one of the long preparation tables, watching with a mix of amusement and awe as Dipsy and two other elves fluttered about, assembling a plate of biscuits and tart and a pot of fragrant, steaming tea.

"Thank you," you said sincerely as they presented you with your midnight feast. "This is exactly what I needed."

Dipsy beamed, her bat-like ears quivering with pleasure. "Miss is always so kind, so polite! Not like some students, so rude and demanding they is. But Miss is a good student, yes she is!"

You felt a pang at that, remembering all the times you'd seen your classmates treating the house-elves like mere servants. "You work so hard," you told her. "The least I can do is be polite."

The ancient elf in the tea towel toga shuffled up then, setting a small pot of jam next to your plate. "Special raspberry preserves," he croaked. "Made 'em myself. Good for what ails you, they is."

"That's very kind, thank you," you said, touched by the gesture.

You passed the next quarter hour in the warm bustle of the kitchens, savoring your illicit snack while the elves worked around you, peppering you with questions—did you need anything else, what did you think of the new recipe they'd tried at lunch, would you like to take some extra tarts back to your dormitory? It was soothing, the cheerful chatter and clatter, so different from the brooding silence of your room.

By the time you'd drained your teacup and consumed a frankly inadvisable number of biscuits, you were feeling considerably more yourself.

"Thank you," you said again as you rose to leave. "I feel much better."

"Miss is welcome anytime!" Dipsy assured you earnestly. "Dipsy is always here if Miss needs a little pick-me-up!"

You left with a smile and a promise to visit again, slipping back out into the dark and drafty corridor.

It was deserted, as you'd expected. Or so you thought, until a voice emerged from the shadows some twenty feet ahead, stopping you in your tracks.

"Out for a midnight stroll?"

You nearly leapt out of your skin, your wand raised defensively before you'd even fully registered the words. But then a familiar figure stepped into a pool of torchlight, and your racing heart stuttered for an entirely different reason.

Jaemin. Even in the middle of the bloody night, he managed to look put together, his school robes immaculate and his prefect badge gleaming. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and there was a glint in his eye that might have been amusement.

"Merlin's beard, Jaemin," you hissed, lowering your wand. "Are you trying to get hexed? You can't just lurk in the dark like some sort of—villain!"

"I'm not lurking, I'm patrolling," he countered. "It's my job to accost students out of bed after hours. Which, need I remind you, you currently are."

"I’m a prefect too," you shot back, though you were painfully aware that your current attire—dressing gown, fluffy slippers, and basically a bird's next on your head—didn’t exactly command authority.

"A prefect who's very much off duty," Jaemin pointed out, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made you acutely conscious of your bare legs and messy hair. "And wandering the castle at two in the morning, no less."

You crossed your arms, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. "I couldn't sleep. Not that it's any of your business, but if you must know, I was hungry. I went to the kitchens."

"The kitchens," he repeated slowly.

"Yes, the kitchens. You're familiar with the concept, I assume? Big room, lots of elves, food comes from there?"

Jaemin, looking awfully like he was trying not to smile, said again, "You went to the kitchens. At two a.m. In your dressing gown."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt a little. "Yes, that's what I just said. Is there an echo here I'm not aware of?"

"Y/n y/l/n, prefect and notorious rule-follower, snuck out of bed and all the way down to the kitchens in the dead of night...for a biscuit?"

"What, like you've never had a late-night snack craving?"

"No, I can't say I have." He was definitely fighting a smile now. "I'm just surprised. I didn't take you for the type."

"Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," you muttered, brushing past him to continue your trek back to Gryffindor tower. To your great chagrin, Jaemin fell into step beside you, long legs eating up the distance effortlessly.

"And here I was thinking I had you all figured out... Now I come to find you have a dark side. Late-night wanderings, clandestine trips to the kitchen...so scandalous. Merlin only knows what other secrets you're hiding behind that prim prefect exterior."

"Oh, yes," you agreed dryly. "I'm a woman of endless mysteries. Careful, Na, or I'll file you away in my mental 'too curious for his own good' cabinet with all my other deep, dark secrets."

It was possibly the most ridiculous thing you'd ever said, made all the more absurd by the fact that you were padding through the halls in slippers, being relentlessly followed by the boy you were supposed to be pretending to date. Who was going to write your biography one day? They'd have a field day with this.

"So why are you lurking about in the dark, anyway?" you asked, feeling the need to shift focus away from your own nocturnal misadventures. "Isn't this usually when you abscond to the grounds to catch hapless rule-breakers?"

"Wasn't in the mood," Jaemin said with a shrug. "Thought I'd switch it up tonight. Catch hapless biscuit thieves instead."

You shot him a withering look. "I'm not a thief. The elves gave me those biscuits fair and square. And anyway, you're one to talk about avoiding the grounds. What, did our last excursion awaken a sudden fear of the dark?"

"Hardly." A pause. "Just wasn't the same without my favorite patrol partner, I suppose."

Your steps faltered a bit at that, and you hoped desperately that the darkness was enough to hide the flush you could feel creeping up your neck. Favorite patrol partner. He had to be mocking you. Nevermind that he'd said it almost...softly. Sincerely, even. A trick of the acoustics in this drafty old castle, no doubt.

“I’m flattered,” you managed, arranging your face into an expression of arch disdain. "Though I think we both know I'm likely the only patrol partner you’ve terrorized on the grounds. Bit of a low bar, as far as favoritism goes."

“I'm grading on a curve," Jaemin said with a smirk. "Bumping you to the head of a class of one."

"How magnanimous of you."

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

A slow shake of the head was the only response you could muster. Between the amusement and the sheer exasperation, it was hard to keep track of your own feelings. This boy. This ridiculous, irritating, unfairly handsome boy. How had your life come to revolve around verbally sparring with him in darkened hallways in the middle of the night?

You'd reached the stairs leading up toward Gryffindor Tower, and you paused at the base, turning to face Jaemin. He was looking at you intently, as if he wanted to say something.

"You've been better this week," he said abruptly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. "What?"

"At pretending," he clarified. "You don't flinch anymore when I touch you. That thing you did yesterday, with your hand on my chest when you were laughing at Jo's joke - that was good. Natural."

Heat crept up your neck at the memory. You'd surprised yourself with that gesture, the easy intimacy of it. It had just...happened. No thought, no awkwardness. For a moment, it had felt real.

"Oh," you said eloquently. "Um. Thanks?"

Jaemin nodded. "I can tell the practice is helping. People are buying it. Even Giselle's backed off a bit."

"Only a bit," you muttered. Jaemin's prickly best friend had been keeping a hawkish eye on you. She'd cornered you just yesterday, demanding to know Jaemin's favorite Quidditch team. You'd guessed the Falmouth Falcons, only to be informed with a triumphant sneer that he was actually a die-hard Montrose Magpies supporter, had been since childhood, and really, what kind of girlfriend doesn't know that?

"She's protective," Jaemin said, as if reading your thoughts. "But she's coming around. Slowly."

"Hooray for small mercies," you said dryly.

Jaemin's lips twitched. "Anyway, I didn't just track you down to compliment your acting skills."

"So why did you track me down, then?" You folded your arms, trying to ignore the way your pulse had picked up at his words. "Other than to save me from death by biscuit overindulgence, of course."

"Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend," he said.

You nodded slowly. "I'm aware."

"It's also Valentine's Day."

"Oh." You blinked. "Right." Somehow, in the midst of all the fake dating drama and NEWTs prep, you'd completely forgotten about the most romantic day of the year. "That's...a thing."

"A thing we should probably do together," Jaemin said. "I mean, it would look weird if we didn't, wouldn't it? The whole school will be there, all the couples will be out in force..."

Suddenly your hands felt clammy. He was right, of course. If you were really dating, you'd be all over each other on Valentine's Day. Holding hands, sharing butterbeer, probably snogging in some corner of Madam Puddifoot's like every other disgustingly happy couple.

But you weren't really dating. And the thought of upping the ante on this charade you were already barely keeping up with...it made you feel a bit sick.

Jaemin must have seen some of this on your face, because he quickly added, "We don't have to make a big deal of it. Just walk around together, maybe get lunch at the Three Broomsticks. I could buy you some chocolate from Honeydukes, let people see me being a good boyfriend. That's all."

"Right," you said faintly. "Sounds...great."

He studied you for a moment. "I mean, if you had other plans, or if you think it's too much—"

"No," you said, more firmly than you felt. "No, you're right. We should go together. For appearances' sake, if nothing else."

His eyes flickered at your words, a brief shadow passing over them before he straightened up. "Great," he said briskly. "It's a date then."

You took a step back, suddenly desperate for the safety of your dormitory. "I should go. It’s late."

Jaemin nodded. "Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll see you in Potions."

"Can't wait." You started up the stairs, but paused at the landing to look back. "Goodnight, Jaemin."

"Goodnight." He waited a beat, his voice dropping to a low, melodic murmur. "Sweet dreams, baby."

You huffed a laugh to hide your skyrocketing pulse and hurried up the stairs, feeling his gaze on your back until you turned the corner.

Valentine’s Day with Jaemin. It was just another scene in the play. You could handle it.

Right?

But as you climbed the stairs to your bed, you had the sinking feeling that 'sweet' dreams were the last thing you were going to get.

The Hogsmeade trip came around quicker than expected. It had barely stopped raining for weeks, but on Saturday the sun was a weak golden disk behind a scrim of clouds, and every student with even a shred of romantic aspiration was queued up to be let out the gates, Gryffindor and Slytherin and the rest all jostling close, careful to keep up appearances for whatever audience they believed themselves to have. 

You, on the other hand, spent the first half of the walk pretending that the clumps of snow along the path were of great zoological interest, then the next half pretending you couldn’t feel Jaemin’s hand cradling your elbow, like you were some frail Victorian damsel and the uneven ground posed a mortal peril.

 “This is a bit much, isn’t it?” you muttered, as you reached the crest of the hill and saw the town below. 

Every shop window had been transformed into a shrine for Valentine’s Day: Sugar quaffles in the shape of anatomically correct hearts, boxes of chocolates spelled to whisper eternal devotion when opened, bargain bouquets of roses that swatted at you if you tried to walk by without paying them a compliment. Even the cobblestone streets seemed to have been scrubbed up for the occasion, each puddle reflecting a film of pink and red banners strung overhead.

Jaemin grinned at your side, unbothered by the spectacle. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you insisted, though you eyed the brightly colored display tray warily. “I just don’t want to accidentally eat one of those chocolates that makes you recite poetry. Last time Jo had one, she spoke in haikus for three hours. It was a nightmare.”

“That sounds amazing, actually,” Jaemin said, a devilish glint in his eye. He veered off the main path, his long coat swishing around his ankles as he approached the sugar-dusted worker hawking the tray. “Let’s see if we get Lord Byron or... Byron-but-make-it-sexy.”

“Those are the same thing, Jaemin.”

He snagged two samples before you could protest, pressing a heart-shaped truffle into your gloved palm. The chocolate was dark, dusted with shimmering pink edible glitter. “Go on. What’s the worst that could happen? A little rhyming couplet never killed anyone.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smell of rich cocoa was overpowering your common sense. You took a tentative bite.

The chocolate was velvety, melting instantly over your tongue with notes of dark cherry and espresso. For a second, you thought you were safe. Then, a strange warmth bloomed in your diaphragm. It wasn't the heat of the candy, but more like a physical compulsion, like a marionette string tugging at your vocal cords.

Your lips parted against your will. You tried to say ‘It’s good,’ but your voice, suddenly projecting with a nasal, theatrical vibrato that echoed off the cobblestones, intoned:

“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove!”

Jaemin doubled over, nearly dropping his own sweet, his laughter bright and loud in the crisp air. “Oh, brilliant! Shakespeare it is! Give it some more feeling, come on!”

“Shut up!” you tried to hiss, but the magic ignored your intent completely. Instead, you threw a dramatic hand over your heart, your eyes fluttering shut as you bellowed, “O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified, as a group of Ravenclaws walked by, giggling. The spell finally sputtered out, leaving you breathless and flushed.

“I hate you,” you mumbled into your palm, though the lingering taste of cherry was admittedly delicious. You looked up at him, realizing something didn’t add up. “Wait. How do you even know that was Shakespeare? Or who Lord Byron is?”

Jaemin finally straightened up, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. He popped his own truffle into his mouth, looking entirely unbothered.

“We have a library at the Manor that rivals the one at Hogwarts,” he said casually, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “My parents… well, they’re traditionalists, obviously. But my mother has always insisted that a true wizarding education is incomplete without understanding the ‘arts of the common man.’”

He swallowed, and for a second, his eyes went wide. You braced yourself for a poem, but he just cleared his throat and smirked. A dud candy. Typical luck.

“She thinks Muggles are tragically fascinating,” he continued, offering you his arm. “She insisted I read the classics. ‘If you are to rule the world, son, or simply live in it, you must understand how the other half feels.’ Or something like that.”

You stared at him in slight awe. You had never really considered that wizards from old, sacred twenty-eight families cared much about the Muggle world, other than to look down on it. As a half-blood who spent most of your childhood navigating the regular world and reading paperbacks, you assumed Jaemin’s world was entirely insulated.

“I’m just glad they’re using good material this year,” he finished, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Sonnet 116? ‘It is the star to every wandering bark’? Very romantic choice, Y/N. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

You tried to glare at him, to maintain your annoyance at being made a public spectacle, but his smile was so wide, so full of genuine delight, that your irritation evaporated like breath on glass.

“I’m telling you that you’re paying for these sweets,” you said, linking your arm through his.

“Fair enough,” he hummed. “Where to next?

Before you could answer, a shrill voice cut through the chatter of the crowd. "Jaemin! Yoo-hoo, over here!"

You turned to see Yuna Bae waving at you from the doorway of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. She was resplendent in robes of pale pink, her dark hair arranged in perfect curls. Beside her, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, was a Ravenclaw you recognized from your Charms class. Taehyun, you thought his name was.

Jaemin's grip on your arm tightened imperceptibly. "Yuna," he said, his smile never wavering. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Oh, you know me," Yuna trilled, her eyes raking over you dismissively. "I never miss a Hogsmeade weekend. Taehyun was just treating me to tea. Why don't you join us? I'm sure we could squeeze you in."

The way she said that made it clear she was referring solely to Jaemin. You might as well have been a Flobberworm for all the attention she gave you.

“Y/N and I were just heading to Tomes and Scrolls. She’s been telling me about the new research into the Goblin Wars that just arrived and you know I can never resist a good history tome.”

Well, that was a blatant lie. You’d mentioned the book in passing a week ago, but Jaemin would rather drink Bubotuber pus than read a dry history text. Still, you appreciated the save. Yuna’s smile dimmed a fraction, her eyes flicking to the modest storefront of the bookstore as if it were a contagious ward at St. Mungo’s.

“Is this what you’re prioritizing now, Jaemin? This… little excursion into the mundane?”

Her eyes raked over your clothes down to your scuffed shoes. “I’m simply fascinated, Jawm. Your family has spent generations cultivating a certain standard, and you're playing the role of the benevolent saint. Taking pity on the less fortunate is a fine hobby, but surely you’re bored of the charity work by now?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You started to speak, but Jaemin’s voice cut through first.

“Yuna.” The word was a warning, low and dangerous. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m being perfectly transparent,” she snapped, her feline eyes flashing. “It’s embarrassing, Jaemin. People are laughing. They’re wondering how long this little ‘experiment’ has to last before you regain your senses and return to your own kind. You’re a Na. Act like it.”

“I am a Na,” Jaemin said flatly, his arm sliding from your elbow to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. “And Y/N is my girlfriend. She isn't an experiment, and she isn't someone you get to talk down to. If you can’t show her the respect she’s earned, then you and I have nothing left to discuss.”

Yuna’s jaw tightened, her composure finally cracking into a mask of pure venom. “Earned? She’s a nameless Gryffindor with nothing to her name but a few decent marks and a tragic wardrobe. Don’t think for a second this won't reach your father, Jaemin. He won't be as ‘charmed’ by your rebellion as you are.”

“Send the owl tonight if you like,” Jaemin countered, his voice steady. “Tell him I’m busy.”

Yuna’s eyes flicked to you one last time. “Enjoy your biscuits while you can, darling. The higher you climb, the harder the fall.”

You simply smiled, though your chest was tight with fury.

"Oh, I’ll keep that in mind. Do enjoy your tea, Yuna. I hear the service is wonderfully… swift today.”

As she turned on her heel to sweep into the tea shop, you kept your hands tucked inside your coat pockets, your fingers curling around the smooth wood of your wand. With a sharp, silent flick of your wrist and a jagged thought of Ventus, you sent a precise jinx whistling through the air.

The effect was instantaneous.

Just as Yuna reached for the heavy brass handle of the shop door, an invisible, violent gust of wind caught the hem of her pristine pink robes. They billowed up like a startled peacock’s tail, tangling around her head and blinding her just as she stepped forward.

Thwack.

She walked straight into the doorframe with a dull thud. Her scream of outrage was muffled by her own silk skirts, and as she scrambled to untangle herself, her designer boots skidded on a patch of black ice you’d surreptitiously greased with a bit of Glacius. She performed a frantic, uncoordinated flailing dance that sent her expensive handbag flying into a nearby slush pile.

Taehyun made a strangled noise that was either a cough or a repressed sob of laughter.

Jaemin stood perfectly still beside you, watching as a disheveled Yuna finally managed to shove her way inside the shop, her perfect curls now looking like a bird's nest and her dignity in tatters. He slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide delight.

"Did you just…?"

"The wind in the Highlands is so unpredictable this time of year," you said, keeping your gaze fixed on the shop window as Yuna frantically tried to wipe slush off her bag. "It’s a real hazard for those who aren't used to the climate."

"You're terrifying," Jaemin whispered, a grin breaking across his face. Absolutely terrifying. I love it."

"I told you," you said, finally meeting his gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. "I'm a woman of endless mysteries. And I really, really hate being called a charity case."

"Fair point," he laughed, steering you away before she could recover enough to look back. "Come on, Shakespeare. Let's check out the books."

Tomes and Scrolls was blessedly quiet, the heavy wooden door acting as a silencer against the bustle of the High Street. You inhaled deeply, loving the smell of aged parchment, beeswax, and the faint, ozone-like spark of old magic trapped in ink. This was your happy place.

You moved instinctively toward the back, trailing your fingers along the spines. Some books hummed under your touch; others, like the Compendium of Common Curses, seemed to shy away.

“There,” you whispered, spotting a thick, midnight-blue spine with silver embossing The Iron Quill: Unfiltered Testimonies of the 1612 Rebellions.

You pulled it from the shelf, cradling it like it was made of glass. “I’ve been waiting for this for months, Jaemin. It’s based on the personal journals of Ug the Unreliable that were found in a sealed vault in Gringotts last summer.”

You opened it to a random page, your eyes lighting up. “Look at the diagrams! Everyone thinks the rebellion started because of the wand-ban, but these letters suggest a secret trade embargo on silver-threaded lace. It could completely rewrite the seventh-year curriculum. If the economic tension preceded the legislative one, it changes the entire motive of the Goblin liaisons!”

You turned a page, your voice gaining speed and volume as the academic thrill took over. “And look at the footnotes! There’s a cross-reference to The Tales of Beedle the Bard that suggests the ‘Warlock’s Hairy Heart’ was actually a coded political allegory for the Minister of Magic at the time. It’s brilliant. It’s... it's...”

You broke off, suddenly aware of the silence. Jaemin wasn't looking at the book. He was leaning against the mahogany shelf, watching you with with interest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You started to close the book. “I’m boring you to death, aren't I? You probably want to go look at the Quidditch supplies or–”

“No,” Jaemin said softly. He stepped closer and reached out, not to take the book, but to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Not at all. I like seeing you like this. Passionate. A little bit nerdy. It’s... it's really cute, Y/N.”

You froze, the heavy tome suddenly feeling very light compared to the way your heart was thudding against your ribs. You looked down, pretending to be intensely interested in a footnote about goblin-wrought armor, trying to ignore the way his thumb lingered near your temple.

“It’s just history,” you whispered, though your pulse was racing fast enough to win a broom race.

“But you love it,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave. “And that’s why I like listening.”

You didn’t quite know what to say to that so you busied yourself with the book, pretending to be engrossed in the table of contents, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing.

It was just an act, you reminded yourself. A show for the onlookers. Jaemin was a good actor, that was all. There was no real feeling behind his words or his looks.

You lingered by the history section for a moment longer before a small, unassuming sign caught your eye toward the very back of the shop, nestled under a low, sloping ceiling: "Non-Magical Curiosities & Literature."

“Wait,” you said walking towards it. “I didn’t know they kept a Muggle section here.”

Jaemin followed as you navigated the narrowing aisles. This corner of the shop was more cramped, the books bound in plain cloth or faded dust jackets rather than dragon-hide or shimmering silk.

You scanned the titles until your eyes snagged on a familiar, battered spine. You pulled out a well-loved copy of Wuthering Heights.

“Since you’re so well-versed in Byron and Shakespeare,” you said, holding the book out so he could see the cover, “did your mother ever make you read the Brontës?”

Jaemin took the book, his long fingers tracing the silhouette of the moors on the cover. “I don’t think this one made the library list. Is it another tragedy?”

“The best kind of tragedy,” you sighed as you leaned back against the shelf. “It’s about a love so intense it’s practically a curse. Heathcliff and Cathy... they’re terrible for each other, really. They’re vengeful and cruel, but they’re also part of the same soul. There’s this one line—” you paused, closing your eyes for a second to recall the words that had lived in your head since you were twelve. “‘I am Heathcliff. He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’”

When you opened your eyes, Jaemin was staring at you with an intensity that made the air in the cramped corner feel suddenly very thin. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by something much more sincere.

“That’s a bit more intense than a Honeydukes poem,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the edge of the pages.

“Muggles don’t have magic to fix their problems,” you explained, feeling a rush of that deep-seated passion again. “They don’t have Amortentia to force a feeling or Cheering Charms to dull a heartbreak. They just have words. They have to build these massive, sweeping worlds of emotion just to explain how it feels to be alive. I think… I think sometimes that’s more powerful than any spell we’re taught.”

Jaemin looked from the book back to you, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You talk about them like they’re the ones with the real power.”

“In a way, they are,” you whispered.

He handed the book back to you, but as your fingers met on the cover, he didn't pull away. “Well, if it’s that good, I suppose I should read it. But only if you promise to highlight the best parts for me. I want to see the world the way you see it.”

His words caught you off guard. You looked down at your joined hands, the scent of old paper and Jaemin’s expensive, woody cologne swirling around you.

“I can do that,” you promised softly.

The afternoon bled away as you drifted from one storefront to the next. It was…nice. More than nice, actually. Despite yourself, you found yourself relaxing and enjoying the banter.

Despite the frantic warnings screaming in the back of your mind, you found the armor around your heart beginning to flake away. You were relaxing, leaning into the sharp cadence of his banter and the way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold, Jaemin suggested one last stop.

“Three Broomsticks?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”

Jaemin shrugged, a smile playing about his lips. “It’s tradition, isn’t it? Can’t come to Hogsmeade and not have a Butterbeer.”

He had a point. The warmth of the pub sounded inviting after the chill of the February air. “Lead on, then.”

The place was packed to the brim with students crowding every table, their cheeks flushed from the cold and the Butterbeer. You wove your way through the throng, Jaemin’s hand at the small of your back.

“Y/N! Jaemin! Over here!”

You turned to see Jo waving at you from a table in the back. Beside her, was a handsome boy you vaguely recognized as a seventh year Hufflepuff. Won-something? 

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Jo said as you approached, her eyes bright. “Y/N, this is Wonbin. Wonbin, this is my best friend, Y/N. And her boyfriend, Jaemin.”

Wonbin smiled at you. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Jo’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you said, sliding into the seat across from them. Jaemin settled beside you, his thigh pressing against yours under the table.

“Oh, definitely,” Wonbin said, grinning. “Though she did mention something about an incident with a Niffler and a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion…”

You groaned, shooting Jo a look. “That was one time! And it wasn’t my fault the Niffler got loose, I maintain that to this day.”

Jo laughed, leaning into Wonbin’s side. They looked so comfortable together, so at ease.

Not for the first time since you arrived at Hogsmeade and finding yourself surrounded by dozens of loving couples, you felt a pang of something that might have been envy. What must it be like, to have that? To not have to question every look, every touch, every flutter of your heart?

You glanced at Jaemin, only to find him already looking at you. His eyes were the color of dark mahogany in the firelight.

If this were a real date, he would lean in. If you were a real girlfriend, you would let him.

The thought of his lips on yours, not as a tactical maneuver to thwart Yuna, but as an answer to the restless, poetic ache that had started in the bookstore, sent a shiver through you that was violent in its intensity. You wondered if his mouth would taste like the dark chocolate he’d eaten earlier, or the butterbear he was having now.

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat of "what if" that threatened to drown out your common sense. You looked away quickly, grabbing your Butterbeer and taking a long swig to hide the sudden heat in your cheeks.

The conversation kept flowing around you, but you found it hard to concentrate. Everywhere you looked, couples were leaning into each other, hands entwined, heads bent close. All you could hear around you was the sound of laughter and the soft smack of lips meeting in chaste kisses.

Suddenly, your skin itched with a restless sort of energy. You were hyperaware of Jaemin beside you, the solid warmth of him, his hand on yours on the table.

This was supposed to be a date. A fake date, yes, but a date nonetheless. And what did couples do on dates?

They kissed.

The thought was terrifying and… exciting. Kissing Jaemin, how would that feel? Putting your mouth on his mouth in front of all these people.

“Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice was barely audible over the din, but it vibrated through your very bones. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, his scent of cedar and winter air enveloping you. “You’ve gone very quiet. Where did you go?”

You took another gulp of Butterbeer, trying to drown the sudden dryness in your throat. There was no need to get so worked up about it, really. It was all part of the act. Just one more scene to play, one more line to deliver.

You could do this.

Setting your tankard down with a thunk, you turned to Jaemin, determination surging through you. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

“Y/N,” he said carefully. “What are you doing?”

“Improvising,” you murmured, and kissed him.

For a moment, he was utterly still beneath your lips. Then, just as you were about to pull away feeling completely humiliated, he came to life, his hand cupping your cheek, his mouth slanting over yours.

It was…Merlin. It was everything. His lips were soft and warm but still demanding, the scrape of his calluses against your skin sending goosebumps down your arms. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the soft wool of his sweater, anchoring yourself lest you float away entirely.

Someone wolf-whistled, probably Jo, and you jerked back to reality, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Jaemin looked as dazed as you felt, his eyes dark, his lips kissed-red.

“Well,” he said, his voice rough. “That was…something.”

“Um… yeah,” you said weakly, trying to catch your breath. “Gotta be convincing, right?”

Jaemin’s pupils were more dilated than before. “Right,” he said. “Of course.”

He turned back to his drink, and you did the same, trying to ignore the way your lips were tingling, the way your heart was doing a complicated tap-dance against your ribs.

That wasn't real, you reminded yourself as you gulped down the rest of your Butterbeer, the alcohol doing little to steady your nerves. None of it was real.

Jo was grinning at you across the table, her eyes knowing. You glared at her, silently daring her to say something. Wisely, she didn’t, but her smile spoke volumes.

As the evening wore on and the empty tankards accumulated, you found your tongue loosening, your inhibitions lowering. The pub seemed overly warm, the laughter too loud, the press of bodies too close. You needed air, needed space. You needed…

“I need to pee,” you announced loudly, lurching to your feet. The room swayed around you, and you grabbed the edge of the table to steady yourself. “I’ll be…I’ll be back.”

You wove your way through the crowd, ignoring Jo’s concerned call of your name and the way Jaemin slightly rose from his seat, his hand outstretched as if to stop you.

You didn’t need his help or anyone’s help. You were fine. You were absolutely, totally fine.

Outside, the night air was a blessed slap of cold. You took in great lungfuls of it. Merlin’s beard, how much had you had to drink? The empty tankards swam before your eyes in a hazy blur. Three? Four? More? It was hard to keep track when the Butterbeer had been so sweet and the pub so warm and Jaemin’s lips so soft against yours…

Oh no. Oh no no no. You’d actually kissed him, right there in front of everyone. What were you thinking?

Well, it didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting away, finding a quiet place where you could think. Somewhere without Jaemin’s eyes on you.

You picked a direction at random and started walking with unsteady steps. The high street was nearly deserted now, the lovebirds gone home to their castles and their common rooms and their cozy little romances.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts and your too-fast heartbeat and the sinking realization that you were, perhaps, a bit drunker than you’d initially thought.

“Y/N!”

You closed your eyes briefly, both thrilled and terrified by the sound of his voice.

“I’m fiiiiine,” you slurred without turning around. “I just need a minute.”

Jaemin caught up to you in two long strides, his face tight with concern as he reached out to steady your swaying frame. "You're completely blasted. Please, just stand still for a second before you fall into a ditch."

"I am not blasted," you informed him with great dignity, though you tripped over your own feet and ended up slumped against his chest. You looked up at him, your eyes unfocused but swimming with a sudden honesty. "You're the one who’s blasted— Blasted with... with your perfect hair and your Byron talk."

“Let’s just get you back first, okay?”

“I can get there by myself, thank you very much.” You slurred, starting to walk in the opposite direction of the castle.

“I’m sure you can. But I'd rather help you get there in one piece.” He said, sliding his arm around your waist and gently veering you in the right direction.

You tried to pull away, a whine building in your throat. “Don’t wanna. M’having fun.”

“I think you’ve had quite enough fun for one night,” he replied, his voice dripping with that dry, aristocratic patience that made you want to kick his shins.

“Are you mad at me…” You said softly after a second. “Because of the kiss? I—I didn’t mean—”

Your eyes smarted. Tears, sudden and hot, pooled and fell freely. You felt mortified and ridiculous and very impervious at once. The laugh you tried to force came out more like a sob.

“M’sorry,” you hiccuped. “What was I thinking? I’m awful.”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. For a moment, he was quietly furious and perhaps even a little bewildered, which made him look achingly human.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed. He did not sound like someone who believed in platitudes. “You’re not awful. You’re just tired and you’ve had too much to drink.”

“M’drunk, not dumb. I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. Jus’ got…got lost in the moment.”

“Let’s just go back to the castle first” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

You sniffled weakly, wiped at your face with the back of your hand, and let him shepherd you back toward the castle.

By the time you reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, you were barely keeping your eyes open, your body growing heavier with each step.

“Password?” the Fat Lady trilled, eyeing Jaemin suspiciously.

You tried to form the word ‘Flibbertigibbet,’ but your tongue felt like a thick piece of wet paper and it came out as something closer to "Flub-a-dub". The Fat Lady, mercifully, just sighed and allowed you access anyway.

“I’ll help you,” Jaemin murmured, his arm tightening around your waist to keep you upright as the portrait swung open.

But as he made to step over the threshold, you planted a hand firmly on his chest.

“You can’t come in,” you said, shaking your head slow and wide.

He raised an elegant eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Cause you’re a snake,” you told him seriously. “And the Fat Lady… She doesn’t like snakes. Nope! No snakes ‘llowed in the lion house. S’the rules.”

You dissolved into giggles, finding this logic unbearably funny. The look on Jaemin’s face only made you laugh harder, a snorting, hiccupping thing that had you clutching at the portrait frame for support.

“Right. God forbid I upset the natural order,” he said, a reluctant, lopsided smile finally tugging at his lips.

He reached out, gently tucking a messy strand of hair behind your ear. “I think that’s quite enough out of you. Go on, get to bed.”

You sketched a salute, barely avoiding smacking yourself in the face. “Aye aye, cap’n,”

And with that, you let the portrait swing shut, cutting off the sound of Jaemin’s laughter. You made your way up to your dormitory on unsteady legs, collapsing into bed fully clothed.

As sleep claimed you, dragging you down into dreamless oblivion, one last thought chased itself around your fuzzy brain.

No snakes in the lion’s den. Not even pretty ones with soft lips and warm hands.

It was a good rule, you decided muzzily. A very good rule indeed.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

“I cannot believe my little brother got married before me,” Karina announces, balancing the flask she smuggled into the wedding reception on the sink before tucking it neatly back into her bra. “Before both of us, actually.”

You watch as she throws back the freshly mixed Vodka and Coke in one gulp. Not exactly the most hygienic thing, given you’re both hiding in the bathroom like fugitives from her mother trying to avoid the bouquet toss.

A little sloshes down her chin, slides onto her chest, and vanishes between the satin folds of her bridesmaid dress. Christ.

“Oh yeah, totally. I have no idea how Jeno managed to beat us both to the altar.” Another drip of brown liquid traces her neckline. You sigh. “No idea at all.”

“Shut it,” Karina hisses at your sarcasm. She grabs a tissue and blots herself. First her face, then her cleavage. “Don’t look at me like that. Mummy dearest wouldn’t let Jeno have an open bar because she sees this as a prospect convention for me. No alcohol, no fun, no scaring off potential suitors. I have to do what I have to do.”

That sets you off laughing. It’s exactly the kind of thing her mother would say.

Karina throws her head back, cackling along with you. “It’s not funny, Y/N! She thinks this is eighteenth-century England. She swears I’m going to be sent off to a spinster’s asylum if I don’t land someone tonight. And now—” She gestures violently with the tissue. “Now that my fuckass brother’s tied the knot, she’s become a full-blown monster.”

“Give her a break, Rina.” You peer toward the mirror with a smile, dragging your finger along your bottom lip to blend your gloss. “I think she thinks she’s helping. You used to dream about your wedding day when we were kids. It was your favourite game.”

“That was before I discovered men are sloppy. Awful life partners, and need babysitting ninety per cent of the time.”

You snort, watching her adjust her hair, then frown at herself in the mirror like even her reflection has managed to let her down. For a moment, you think she’s going to start ranting about her mother again, but instead—

“You know,” she says, pausing just long enough to hook your attention. “I always figured you’d get married first.”

Oh, not this again. Everyone figured you’d be the first to get married. You’ve heard the speeches before—the what happened with you and Mark? spiels, the pitiful head tilts, the sympathetic smiles. There’s nothing worse than going from the couple—high school sweethearts, city apartment, golden promise ring—to single in your adulthood with a pathetic love and sex life. 

“Don’t start,” you groan.

“I’m serious. You were always the one in steady re—”

“If you mention any of my failed relationships right now, I will seriously revoke your best friend card.”

“Fine, fine,” Karina chirps, swatting her hand. “I’m just saying, Jeno’s got a lot of friends and a big party of single groomsmen.”

“You date one of them then,” you retort. “In fact, why don’t we find your mother and talk about setting you up—”

“Not fucking funny,” Karina sneers. “You didn’t see her trying to meddle in the ceremony. In the fucking chapel, mind you. I won’t have you planting any ideas during the celebration.”

If only you hadn’t been stuck working. You would have loved to watch Karina squirm under her mother’s matchmaking theatrics.

“I just thought since you’re blowing smoke up these guys’ asses, raving about their hotness, maybe you finally wanted to settle down and date one.”

“Date? Settle down? Me?” She scoffs, sharp as a cork popping. “I will be doing no such thing. Fuck? Maybe.”

You shake your head, laughing. “I can’t stand you.”

“Now, now.” She waggles a finger at you. “This is a judgment-free zone. Women should be sexually liberated. Just because you’ve gone months without—”

“Okay!” You slice the word across hers before she can finish. “No talking about dating for you, and no talking about my lack of sex life.”

The bathroom door creaks open before Karina can needle you further.

“Karina.” Giselle, a friend of the bride’s, voice ricochets off the tiles, all flustered breath and flying strands of brown hair as she braces herself against the doorframe. She looks like she’s sprinted through a wind tunnel to get here. “Your mum’s been looking for you.”

Karina doesn’t even twitch. She leans further back against the sink, calm, smug, utterly unbothered by the looming maternal wrath waiting for her on the other side of the door.

“I know,” she drawls, examining her nails.

“No.” Giselle cuts her off, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to stop a migraine. “The best man speech is starting soon. She needs you out there.”

Karina tilts her head, unhurried. “Do I look like a girl who cares about a best man speech? What’s one of Jeno’s little friends going to do, tell childhood stories? Newsflash, I was there for most of them. Y/N too. It’s hardly riveting for us.”

“I couldn’t care less what you think,” Giselle fires back without missing a beat. “But if you don’t show your face right now, your mother will storm this bathroom and drag you out by your hair. And honestly? I don’t want that to ruin my best friend’s day.” She pauses, scanning Karina like a teacher. “Oh—and grab a mint. I know you’ve been drinking in here.”

Karina gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “How dare you slander me on my brother’s holy day?”

“Save it for the priest,” Giselle mutters, already yanking the door open.

“I think the priest has heard enough of my sins today, thanks to that sexy co-worker of Jeno’s sitting in the back pew—ow! Did you just punch me?”

“Yes,” Giselle grits. “Can you stop being horny for five minutes?”

Karina sighs dramatically, pushes herself off the sink, and gives her reflection one last disdainful glance. She slips the flask deeper into her bra, tugging at the satin until the outline is no longer visible. “When did weddings get so serious?”

“They’re literally legally binding, Rina,” you deadpan. “I think they’ve always been—”

She claps her hands, cutting you off, and points toward the door. “To my mother.”

You roll your eyes, but fall into step behind her anyway, Giselle marching ahead like a prison guard escorting two criminals. Fugitives found. 

The reception air hits heavier than the bathroom—perfume, champagne, the clink of glasses and forks against china. Music hums low, elegant, almost stuffy. And there, in the centre of it all, Karina’s mother stands fanning herself with the wedding program, face set and ready for battle.

She spots her daughter, and her cheeks flame red.

Karina mutters out of the corner of her mouth, “Is it too late to do a runner? I’m actually scared of her.”

You pinch her arm, already blotchy from Giselle’s earlier assault. “Smile.”

She pastes one on, bright and fake. “Mother dear—”

“Don’t you Mother Dearest me.” Her mother swats her arm with a clutch bag so forcefully you hear the snap of the clasp.

“Ow—Christ.” Karina jerks back, clutching the offended spot. “Can you people leave my arm alone?”

“Where the hell have you been?” Her mother’s voice drops, eyes honed in. She leans closer to Karina’s mouth, nostrils flaring. “Have you been drinking?”

Karina’s eyes widen, the panic flashing quick. She may be an adult, but nobody, at any age, likes a lecture from their parents. She lunges for distraction. “Hey, Ma—look, Y/N’s finally here.”

Before you can react, she’s shoved you forward like a human shield.

Karina’s mother’s face softens immediately, her whole expression rearranging as if you’ve just solved her problems by existing. She’s always liked you—always treated you like a second daughter. Back then, there wasn’t a single evening after school when you weren’t sprawled somewhere in their house, raiding their pantry or making yourself at home.

She scans you from head to toe, approving of the long fitted dress you’re wearing, then she leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Y/N, sweetie. You look wonderful,” she says warmly. “Such a shame you couldn’t make the ceremony.”

You laugh weakly. “I know. Just… lots of work piling up.”

“Ah, I understand, I understand.” She waves her clutch like she’s brushing the excuse aside. “Must be expensive living in the city now you have to fund that apartment on your own.”

The words hit a little too squarely, but before you can swallow the sting, Karina cuts in. “Mum!”

Her mother blinks, genuinely perplexed. “What? I’m just saying it’s a shame, is all.” Then she turns back to you. “I really thought you and Mark were going to get married.”

The mention of Mark lands like a stone in your gut. Your cheeks heat, embarrassment written all over your skin, even though you bite down hard on a smile. You hate that his name still does that to you—still flips you inside out. Because, yeah, you really thought you and him were going to get married, too.

Karina clocks your discomfort immediately. Best friend instinct. Her throat works as she swallows, sharp eyes flicking from your face to her mother. “Ma—” she interrupts. “Where’s that guy you said was interested in me? Renjun? I think he’s cute.”

Her mother startles, her focus snapping back to her daughter. And Karina doesn’t miss her chance. She slides her arm through her mum’s, looping it to steer her away, tossing you a tight smile over her shoulder as they disappear. It’s a lifeline. And you’re so grateful she’s willing to throw herself under her mother’s microscope to pull you out from under it.

From there, you settle into your assigned chair and engage in polite conversation with one of the bride’s friends—Giselle, from the bathroom—when the telltale clink of glass rings out. The sound rolls across the reception, shushing tables one by one until all that’s left is a scatter of half-drunk laughs and the scrape of a chair leg.

Best man speech.

You remember Karina saying it was one of Jeno’s little friends. He had a whole swarm of them growing up—sticky-fingered boys who cannonballed into the pool while you were trying to tan, or burped the alphabet at breakfast, or begged to come to senior parties. 

But then your eyes land on him.

The best man.

And—Christ. There is no fucking way this man was ever one of Jeno’s little friends.

He’s standing there in a perfectly tailored suit, like it was sewn onto him. It had to be sewn onto him, because there’s no universe in which you can buy a simple suit off the rack and get it to fit shoulders like that. His mop of brown hair is perfectly styled in a way you should find respectable—but you don’t. Not at all. Because all you can think about is what it would look like completely messed up—your fingers knotted in it, tugging him down as he settles between your—

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to be standing here celebrating the wedding of my best friend, Jeno, and his beautiful bride…”

The man is talking. His mouth—pouty and full and pink and obscenely pretty—is definitely moving. Words are coming out, you assume, because the crowd laughs in the right places. But you can’t hear him. Not properly.

Because you can’t place that face. And it’s the kind of face you should be able to place. Symmetrical. Striking. Fuck-me perfect.

Your mouth goes desert-dry.

You cough, shifting in your chair, and lean toward Giselle. “Who is that?”

She blinks at you like you’ve grown a second head. Probably because the man just introduced himself—probably because everyone else is listening to his speech while your brain is stuck in the gutter, picturing him with his tie undone and his suit jacket on the floor as you play naked twister back at his place. 

Seriously?” Giselle whispers. She purses her lips, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to figure out if you’re joking. “It’s Chenle. Jeno’s best friend. They’ve been inseparable since they were kids. Surely you know Chenle?”

Chenle.

You do know Chenle. 

The name rattles in your head, but it doesn’t match the man standing at the mic. Straight spine, broad shoulders, sinful lips and confidence that shouldn’t fit into someone you remember being younger than you. Chenle was the boy with braces and curly hair under backwards caps. Chenle was Jeno’s annoying friend who made passes at you when it was wildly inappropriate and wrestled you for the remote like a feral little brother. Chenle was not… this.

You cough again, a weak little laugh breaking out of you. “Huh. Right. Of course. Chenle.”

But your eyes betray you, glued to him. Because the Chenle you remember never made your pulse skitter in your throat.

This one does, though.

You need a drink. 

Clearing your throat, you lean toward Giselle. “I’m just—yeah. I need a minute.”

You slip from the table before she can answer, heels clicking against polished floor as you make a beeline for the bar. The room feels too warm, your cheeks feel too warm. Chenle’s voice is still threading through the air even though you’re doing your best not to listen.

“Dirty martini, please,” you tell the bartender. Expensive, but worth it. You’re willing to pay the price despite cursing the cash bar with Karina not twenty minutes ago.

The bartender sets down the glass. You reach for your wallet—only for a sleek black card to swipe across the reader before you can tap yours.

Your head snaps up, and he’s looking down at you. You watch as Chenle licks his lips and slots the card back into his wallet. Something about the way his eyes never leave your face as he does it sends a wave of heat through your system. 

Your chest rises, falls—uneven—because while he’s glued to you, your own gaze betrays you. Decides to track the movement of his hand instead. Long fingers holding nimble plastic. Thick fingers. Fingers you’re almost sure would be enough to—

“Dirty martini, huh?”

Did he just say something? 

You didn’t catch it properly. Surely not. But maybe he did. You wouldn’t know, because your eyes drag down him once. Twice. And then again. You can’t help it. It’s that mouth. A little crooked, but devastating.

“That’s a triple take now, Y/N.” His voice comes out gravelly, deep in a way that makes your stomach dip. Nothing like the squeaky-pitched teenager you remember. “I haven’t changed that much, have I?”

You choke down a sip of your drink, buying yourself a second. “Triple take? Don’t flatter yourself. I was just… surprised to see you, is all. How long’s it been now?”

Chenle’s mouth curves slowly, and he shifts his weight, letting his shoulders relax into the conversation. “Couple years at least,” he says. “Think I still had braces.”

“Ah, yes, well, congratulations on your new improvements.” You wave vaguely toward his face, praying the vodka covers the wobble in your voice. “First thing people notice is either eyes or smiles.”

“Improvements, huh?” His tone dips an octave lower.

Heat creeps up your neck. “I—what?” Your eyes widen. “No—I just meant, braces. Lots of pain. Congrats on getting them off?”

He laughs then. At you. And it should be irritating, but it’s not. It’s rich. Throaty and deep. It makes you think about how much you’d like to get throaty and deep with his co–

“Relax, I’m just teasing you,” he says finally, amusement still twitching on his lips. “Although…I didn’t realise I made you this nervous. Teenage me is proud of myself.”

You bristle immediately. “I am not nervous!”

“Mhm.” He hums like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “Maybe not nervous. Definitely flustered, though.”

“I am not flustered.”

“Right,” he says, gaze catching yours, pinning you in place without even trying. His face is just that perfect, smug. How have you never seen the vision before? “Must be reading you wrong.”

“Yeah, well,” you suck in a breath, “you always did have a knack for reading me wrong.”

“Hey now.” He shakes his head, mock wounded. “That’s not fair. I was just a kid with a crush on his best friend’s sister’s hot older friend. I never shot my shot seriously because you never took me seriously.”

“Are you kidding me, Chenle?” You scoff, half-amused, half scandalised. The sound of his name on your tongue makes his throat bob—and you curse yourself for noticing. “You used to say you could ‘give me a ride my boyfriend couldn’t’ and tried to perv on me every chance you got.”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish but still grinning. “Okay, fine. Not my finest moment—but as well as my teeth, my flirting game’s improved.”

“Uh-huh.” You tip back the last of your martini, unimpressed.

A beat passes, just long enough for the air to shift. Then he speaks again. 

“So…where is that boyfriend of yours, anyway?” Your eyes snap to him, blank, and he stiffens. “I mean—the last time I saw your Instagram, you posted a picture of a ring he bought you. I thought you two were engaged, shouldn’t he be he—”

“We broke up.” You throw him a bone, save him from his floundering. “A while ago.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You wave him off with a flick of your wrist. “I know for a fact you’re not.”

His smile breaks then—wide, cocky, infuriating. “Old habits die hard.”

“Clearly.” You sigh, then oddly feel the need to explain yourself. “We weren’t engaged, either by the way. It was just a promise ring.”

You see it instantly—the way his eyes spark like he’s dying to bite back. Because despite the suit and the smirk and the broad shoulders, he’s still Chenle. Awkward, messy, opinionated, incapable of shutting up and hating your boyfriends. Yeah, old habits do die hard.

“Promise rings are corny,” he shrugs. “Honestly? I think you dodged a bullet.”

A laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it. “You seem to be the only one who thinks so.”

His brows pinch. “How so?”

“Everyone asks me why I let good-natured, sweet Mark Lee go. Everyone thought we were going to get married.”

“I did too,” he admits, no hesitation. Though his jaw tightens when he says it.

“Funnily enough,” you murmur, swirling your empty glass, “you’re the third person to say that to me today. Maybe Karina’s right. Maybe I should just get off with one of Jeno’s groomsmen.”

That wipes the grin right off his face. His head tilts. “Yeah? And which one of them do you think is gonna measure up?”

“W-what?” You blink, pulse skipping. “It was a joke—”

“Didn’t sound like one.” He leans in, close enough that his cologne slides under your skin, heady and clean and far too distracting. God, he even smells hot. “Do yourself a favour—don’t waste your time on any of Jeno’s friends. They wouldn’t give you what you want.”

You force a scoff, hoping he doesn’t notice how your chest rises unevenly. “Big talk. What makes you so sure?”

His smirk resurfaces. “Because they’re all good. Sweet. Exactly like that Mark guy you let go.”

“And that’s not what I want?”

“I know it’s not.” His voice roughens, and then his finger brushes across your cheek, feather-light. The touch sparks through you like a live wire, and you hate how you shiver, how you don’t move away.

Chenle sees it, and his grin darkens. “Because you’ve been ogling me all night. You ordered a dirty martini because you hate how much you’re attracted to me. And now you’re letting me touch you.” He leans just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I know you want me.”

Your cheeks warm, traitorously, right under his finger. Even if he can’t see the blush, he can feel it—feel exactly how your body responds to this new, devastating version of him. But you don’t want to react. You can’t react. You won’t. This is Chenle. Sticky-fingered, obnoxious, younger Chenle. 

So you scoff instead. “Please. You’re Jeno’s best friend. My best friend’s little brother’s best friend. I don’t want you.”

“Best friend’s little brother’s best friend?” He repeats it with a grin, laughing at the absurdity. “They’re not real stakes, Y/N. There’s nothing forbidden or off limits about it.” He tilts his head. “Or are you just embarrassed to admit you’re attracted to the same boy you used to reject?”

Your mouth parts. “What are you—”

“Is it an ego thing, baby?” He cuts you off, leaning in. “Because I promise I won’t mock you for missing out on all the years we could’ve been fucking.”

Your eyes go wide, but he doesn’t stop.

“But if it’s an age thing…” His fingers trail lower, brushing purposely down the column of your throat, lingering against the bare stretch of skin. “I can’t promise I won’t make you admit I fuck you better than all your older boyfriends.”

God help you—you believe him. Every syllable, every cocky, arrogant drop of it.

Because there’s nothing boyish about the Zhong Chenle standing in front of you now. No juvenility or trace of the kid who used to trail after you. He’s all heat and cut jaw. Dangerous in front of you with how casually he carries himself—like he’s already won. Like, chasing isn’t necessary because he knows you’ll follow.

And you hate him for it.

You hate how much you want him for it.

Your body betrays you, working against your brain. You lean in, a reckless action, tilting up toward that infuriating smirk of his. His mouth is so close, hovering just above yours—close enough to spark fire low in your belly. But…your mouths never connect.

The finger he has on the side of your neck slides into a firm grip on your throat. Not choking, not rough, just enough pressure to anchor you in place. His lips ghost yours, refusing to give you the kiss you crave. The absence is maddening. You swear you’re shaking, yearning. 

Is this what he felt like all those years?

“I’m not doing this here,” he murmurs, roughly.

You blink, dazed. “W-what?”

His thumb strokes lazily at your pulse point, mocking how fast it hammers beneath his touch. “As much as I want every guy in this room to see you all over me…” His mouth skims the edge of your jaw, breath molten, a brand against your skin. “…if you kiss me right now, Y/N, I’ll fuck you right here. Bent over this bar.”

Wetness pools in your panties at the sheer filth of it. The threat. His voice. His mouth. God, his mouth is just as hot as he looks—unapologetically coarse. It’s filthy. It’s everything you’ve secretly wanted and never admitted.

It’s why you’ve been bone-dry for the past year.

Because you don’t want nice. You don’t want sweet. You don’t want the kind of sex that involves careful hands. You don’t want Mark and his gentle kisses that never once made your body ache the way Chenle currently is just by standing close.

You want bad. Rough. Dirty. Everything Mark could never give you. And you’ll be damned if you let this chance slip by.

“So do it,” you breathe. “Bend me over this bar.”

For the first time all night, Chenle falters. His throat works, bobbing in a way that’s so fucking hot you nearly whimper. His grip on your throat tightens— it doesn’t hurt, just holds you still to see the way his eyes darken, go glassy with want.

“Stop it, Y/N,” he grits. “Don’t test me.”

“Why not?” you push, drunk on the power, on him. (And probably the martini.)

His jaw flexes, teeth grinding. “Because I’ve fantasised about fucking you for years, Y/N. And I’m not doing it here, at my friend’s fucking wedding reception—” His mouth brushes your ear. “—and I’m certainly not sharing the view of your legs spread, bare ass, pussy dripping for me… with anyone else.”

Your thighs press together under the bar before you can stop yourself. He notices, eyes dropping, catching the shift of your body, then lets them lift back to your face with a slow, knowing smile.

“See?” he chuckles, mouth curving.“You’re not ready for me. You think you are. But not here.”

You swallow hard, throat dry. “Then where?”

“My place.”

You really hope Chenle doesn’t like that vase on his console table, because as he shoves you through the front door of his apartment—mouth messy, lips pressed hard on yours—your back slams into it. The glass wobbles, thrums, then crashes to the floor.

He doesn’t look like he cares that much. Doesn’t flinch when a picture frame tips off the wall or when the door slams shut behind you. No, Chenle’s got bigger priorities—like hitching your legs around his waist, palming your ass to hoist you up, and carrying you straight to his bed. Fucking you on his bed.

He means, it’s only fair. He’s waited way too long for this—so long he can’t even remember when it started. Years of it. Torturous yearning. But those years don’t hold a candle to the last thirty-six minutes it took him to drive from the wedding back to his place. He could barely hold himself together, hands tight on the wheel, foot pressed to the accelerator, brain playing the same loop over and over: you, giving him the green light to finally take. 

The years felt like a warm-up. Those thirty-six minutes? Pure hell.

A vase his mother gave him is easily replaceable. The marks he’s about to leave on your skin—hickeys, scratches, handprints that brand you his—those are replaceable too. And he intends to replace them, to lay them down again and again until you’ve got no chance of forgetting who put them there. That’s top of his list of replaceable priorities. Not broken glass.

The very second he hauls you into his bedroom, he drops you onto the edge of the bed, the mattress squeaking under the sudden impact. Your palms fly behind you, propping yourself up. He nips your kiss-bruised lips before pulling back. You push up just enough to follow him with your eyes—only to find him already lowering to his knees in front of you.

Chenle. On his knees.

Christ.

He grabs your ankle, firmly, pressing a kiss to the delicate bone before setting your heeled foot on his thigh. His fingers work at the buckle—knuckles brushing your skin, callused pads dragging slow over your arch—and judging from the dark glint in his eyes, you know this is the nicest he’ll be tonight.

Sliding your heel off, he drops it behind him with a careless thud before reaching for the other. It’s the same soothing touch, same process. By the time both shoes are gone, your chest is heaving, thighs pressed tight together like you can cage and hide the need pooling between them.

His gaze flicks down. And when it drags back up, it’s different—darker, meaner, hungrier.

“Open your legs, Y/N.”

Not a suggestion. A command. You like being commanded by him. 

Giving him exactly what he wants, your knees fall apart before you even think. Chenle smirks in triumph.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low, filthy. “That’s more like it. Finally not acting like I’m still a kid begging to hold your hand.”

Heat rockets up your chest, because he’s right. You used to swat him away, roll your eyes, laugh in his face when he’d orbit around you and Karina, all braces and corny jokes. He was the annoying kid. Jeno’s shadow. Never—this.

He hooks his hands under your knees and drags you forward on the mattress until the edge bites into your ass. His shoulders spread between your thighs and he slips his fingers under the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down, disregarding them somewhere along with your heels.

“You ignored me for years,” he goes on, mouth hovering just shy of your inner thigh. His breath is hot. Mean. And the bastard has the nerve to blow air on your folds. “Made me feel like a fucking joke. And now? Now I’m here—between your legs—teasing this sweet little pussy.”

Your spine bows at the sting in his tone. You want to answer, to beg, to bite back or spar with him—but your pulse hammers too hard, scattering every coherent thought.

His teeth nick the skin on your thigh and it’s sharp. Sharp enough to make you gasp. He looks up, eyes heated. “Why didn’t you want me, Y/N?” he asks. “Why did you choose to never see me?”

You bite your lip. “Because…you were like a little bro—”

“Shhh,” he shushes you with his laugh. It vibrates against your skin as he drags his mouth higher, lips skating closer to where you’re throbbing, but not giving you an inch. “Don’t say that shit when you’re squirming for me. It wouldn’t be very big sisterly of you, would it?”

And then—he bites.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hands flying to his hair.

Chenle only smiles against your flesh, tongue flicking over the mark he’s carved into your skin. “Look at that. You’re right—those braces paid off.” A featherlight touch sweeps across your inner thigh, brushing too close. “Such a pretty mark on you.”

He doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. One moment it’s teeth and taunts. The next, his hands clamp onto your hips, jerking you forward like he has every right to put you wherever the fuck he wants.

He buries his face between your legs.

“Chen—holy fuck.”

It’s not gentle. He’s not gentle. His mouth is hot and greedy, like he’s been starving for this and finally got permission to eat. Tongue dragging through your pussy, lips sealing around your clit and sucking so hard your spine bows clean off the mattress. You claw at the sheets, at his hair, at anything that might anchor you. 

“Shit—fuck!”

He pulls back, just long enough to spit against you. The sound, the heat of it, has you whining before he’s even licked it up.

“Christ,” he rasps, voice wrecked, chin glossy with you. “You taste better than I even imagined.”

Your whole body seizes. “You—what?”

He laughs, all smug, and drags his tongue over you again, making you twitch. “What, you think I haven’t been jerking off to the thought of this? Since you used to sit around in those little skirts, pretending you couldn’t feel me staring?”

“Fuck you,” you bite out, but it’s ruined—soft, breathy, pathetic.

He looks up from between your thighs, eyes blown black. “You are. Right now. And your pussy loves it.”

And then he dives back in, tongue flattening against your clit, fucking you with his mouth, groaning like he’s getting off on every one of your sounds. Your hips buck. You can’t stop them. Can’t stop the way your legs fall wider, offering more, chasing every roll of his tongue like a woman possessed.

“Chenle—god—please!”

He hums, and the vibration shatters you. His hand slides up, presses flat and heavy against your stomach to hold you down when you try to wriggle away from the intensity.

“Don’t you dare run from it now,” he growls into you. “You’re gonna take it. Every fucking second. After all those years of ignoring me? You owe me this, sweetheart.”

The pressure keeps building, an unbearable amount to fight against it, and you know you’re about to break.

“Give it to me,” he orders, dragging his mouth away just long enough to lift his head, puffy lips swollen, jaw slick, eyes burning. “Cum on my fucking tongue, Y/N. Now.”

The words shoot through you, melting you. You moan, and his mouth can’t help but twist into that cocky, wicked smirk before he clamps back down on your clit, sucking like punishment. You scream. You can’t help it. Your hands fist in his hair, dragging, yanking, and he only groans, shoving your thighs wider until your knees knock against the mattress.

Never mind when did he get so hot? The real question is—where the fuck did he learn to eat pussy like this?

Because you’ve never cum so hard in your life.

Your body breaks apart, pleasure detonating through you, and it’s humiliating. The the way you cry out, the way your hips jerk uncontrollably against his face. He doesn’t let up, not once—tongue lapping, lips sucking, chin grinding—forcing it harder, vigorously, like he’s determined to wring every drop out of you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your cunt, voice muffled. “Fucking dripping all over me. Making a mess on my face like a good little slut.”

Your head thrashes, cheeks burning, mortification flooding your veins as fast as the pleasure does. You can’t stop, can’t quiet the broken sounds tearing from your throat.

“Oh my God!”

He pulls back just far enough for you to see him, the absolute state of him—chin, jaw, lips soaked, eyes utterly crazed. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning. 

“You always this loud when you cum, Y/N?” He asks all raspy. “Good thing I got you out of that wedding and in my room, behind a closed door—because those moans? They’re mine.”

Your stomach flips, cunt still throbbing, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Chenle tilts his head. “That’s it, baby. Blush for me. Squirm for me. I like you messy and embarrassed. I like knowing the roles have reversed.”

“What happened to not mocking me for missing out on all the years we could’ve been fucking?” You manage the question, breathless, throwing his own words back at him.

Chenle wipes his mouth with the back of his hand for a final time before rising from his knees. The weight of him slots between your thighs, caging you in. His eyes peer into yours.

“I said that, did I?” His mouth twitches. “Guess I lied. Because I can’t fucking believe you kept this pretty little pussy away from me all these years… when you could’ve had me whenever, wherever. I think you should apologise to me, Y/N.”

Your laugh comes out defensive. “Are you seriously going to punish me for not seeing the vision?”

He hums, eyes flicking down to linger on your tits spilling out of the top of your dress. The mess he’s managed to make of you—whilst both of you are still clothed, save for your ruined panties on the floor—is obscene.

“I wasn’t,” he admits, head tilting. Then his mouth curls into a filthy smile. “But now you’ve said it. I like the idea.”

His hand snakes around your back, fingers trailing until they catch the zipper of your dress. The slow pull sounds loud in the quiet room, elements separating one by one.

“Because I always saw the vision, baby,” he says, eyes burning into yours. “Knew one day you’d be under me like this—spread out, desperate, begging like my perfect little slut. Even if you did marry that fucker.”

When the zipper finally gives, your dress slips loose from your shoulders. Chenle doesn’t bother with finesse—he tears it down your body, satin pooling around your waist before you can protest. His shirt’s next, buttons scattering like casualties, then his belt snaps open with a metallic bite.

“Clothes off, baby,” he rasps, shoving his suit pants down. “I’m so sick of waiting.”

Your pulse spikes. “Chenle—”

He fists a hand in your hair, tugging your head closer to press his mouth against the shell of your ear. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Dress off. Hands on my headboard. Back arched like the slut I’ve been dreaming about.”

His tone makes you instantly submissive. You’re scrambling to obey before you even think, peeling off the rest of the fabric for him. Then, you brace yourself on his bed, knees sinking into his sheets as your palms fall flat against the headboard.

He groans behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Fuck. Look at you. Finally where you’re meant to be.” His hand drags over your ass, squeezing hard until it slips lower and his fingers slide through your slick folds. 

You whimper, pressing back against his hand. “Please.”

“Not yet,” Chenle stills, two fingers teasing your pussy without sliding in. “I’m clean, but do you want me to put a condom on?”

“No,” you gasp, desperate. “I’m clean. Birth control. Wanna feel you.”

His chuckle is dark. “So fucking pretty and desperate.”

He lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock pushing at you, spreading you slowly until your mouth parts, letting a choked sound spill out.

“So tight, baby,” His voice cracks with restraint. “All those years, ignoring me, acting like I was just a kid—when what you really needed was me stretching you open.”

Your knuckles go white against the headboard. “Chenle—fuck, please.”

“Beg louder.” He thrusts just the tip in, then pulls out, slick dragging out of you as he does. His teasing is too much, your body can’t help but press back, chasing him. 

“Please, Chenle. I need it—I need your cock. Please, just fuck me.”

He slams into you with one brutal stroke, hips snapping flush with your ass. The scream that rips from your throat could shatter glass. Thank God you already broke everything upon entry. 

“Good girl,” he growls, grabbing your hips, driving into you rough, relentless. “That’s what I wanted to hear. My name, your begging, this messy little cunt gripping me like she knows who she belongs to.”

Your forehead presses to the headboard, nails scraping wood as the room fills with the sound of skin on skin, his filthy groans, your cries. He leans over you, chest pressed to your back, lips dragging wet and messy along your neck.

“You feel that?” he says against your skin. “That’s all me, baby.”

You whimper his name, body arching as his thrusts drive impossibly deeper.

“That’s it. Moan for me. Cry for me. Make it clear who’s ruining this pussy.” His teeth scrape down your throat, then he sucks hard, leaving a bruise that you know will last days. “Gonna paint you in my marks till there’s no hiding I’ve fucked you.”

Your walls spasm around him, and he groans, rutting harder. “Look at that, you’re squeezing me. You gonna cum, baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock?”

“Yes, Chenle—please, I’m so close—”

“Do it,” he snarls, biting into your shoulder, hand snaking between your thighs to circle your clit in messy strokes. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the needy little slut you are.”

It breaks you. Your scream is guttural, raw. Your body convulses as the orgasm he gives rips through you. Your pussy clamps down around him, soaking his cock, slick running down your thighs and his.

He groans into your shoulder, biting down harder as your orgasm pulses around him. “Fuck—look at the mess you’re making. Dripping all over me, shaking on my cock. That’s mine, baby. You hear me? This body. These sounds. These marks. All fucking mine.”

“Yes,” you moan in agreement.

And even as you’re still twitching around him, even as your legs shake and your body sags forward against the headboard, Chenle fucks you harder, hips snapping with a feral rhythm. Every thrust drags another broken sound out of your throat, but he only smirks against your skin.

His tongue laps over the fresh bruise he just left, soothing and stinging all at once, before he sucks another hickey into your collarbone. “Gonna cover every inch of you till you can’t look in a mirror without seeing me.”

You sob into the headboard, body trembling. “Chenle—”

He laughs, thrusts still pounding into your overstimulated cunt. “That’s it. Keep saying my name. Keep letting me own you. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you like this.”

You feel light headed, it’s too good. “S-sorry,” you manage. Then swallow. “I didn’t realise you would feel so—fuck!”

“Good?” he finishes for you, lips brushing your ear, his cock slamming into you over and over. “Me splitting you open, fucking you stupid? Is this what you wanted all those years whilst you pretended I wasn’t good enough for the job?”

“Y-yes—” your voice cracks, high-pitched and pleading, but he makes you say it again.

“Say it properly.” His palm cracks against your ass, the sting of a handprint branding hot, just another mark he’s adding to his collection. It’s harsh enough to snap your head back so you can’t bury your face, can’t hide from him. You’re forced to feel every filthy word he growls into your ear. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you sob, tears blurring your vision as your body gives and gives beneath him. “Please, Chenle, I want it.”

His groan is intense, his hips grinding deep, his free hand gripping your hip so hard you know there’ll be bruises. “That’s my good girl. My perfect little doll. Letting me use you just how I want.”

You whimper, pressing your ass back against him, and he laughs. “Fuck, look at you. So desperate. So fucking pretty when you give up and let me take everything.”

He buries his face in your neck, licking and biting, breath hot and broken as he pounds into you. “You’re mine. You’re gonna stay mine. Gonna let me cum in this tight little cunt and mark you from the inside out so you never forget me.”

Your nails scrape against the headboard, body melting into his as you let him take. His pace turns sloppy, frantic, his hips driving with raw need.

“You want it?” he pants, teeth sinking into your shoulder again. “Want me to fill you up? For me to cum so deep inside you, you’ll feel it every time you move tomorrow?”

“Yes! Please, Chenle, cum inside me—”

That’s all it takes. He snarls, thrusts breaking, and then he’s buried deep, cock pulsing as he spills into you, groaning your name. His grip on you is brutal, anchoring you down as if he could fuse your bodies together and never let go.

“Fuck—fuck, take it,” he moans, shuddering through his release. “Take every drop like a good fucking girl.”

When he’s done, he stays there, still inside you, hips twitching, teeth still pressed into your skin like he can’t stop marking you, even now.You try to shift, thighs trembling, but Chenle clamps his hand down on your hip and snarls into your ear.

“Don’t you fucking move.” His cock is still buried inside you, softening but refusing to slip out. His cum leaks down your thighs, and he hisses at the feel of it. “Keep me right there.”

Your face burns, body shuddering as he presses his chest into your back, teeth chafing the fresh bite marks he left on your shoulder.

“God, look at you,” he rasps. “You’re all marked and dripping with me, baby. You’ve never looked better. Never sounded better. All those years acting untouchable… just to end up under me, begging like a desperate little whore.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, mortified at how your body clenches at his words. He feels it and chuckles darkly against your skin.

“It’s cute that you’re trying to pretend you don’t fucking love the feel of me inside you. You spent years looking down at me because you’re older, hotter and more experienced—” he licks the shell of your ear again, dropping his voice to a filthy whisper. “—but now you’re just my fucked-out toy. And you’re never gonna forget it.”

Every word he says burrows under your skin, humiliating, intoxicating. He kisses your cheek almost sweetly, then bites down hard enough to make you gasp. Again. 

Finally, finally, he eases his hips back, cock dragging out of your swollen cunt. His cum spills messily down your thighs, and he watches it with a satisfied groan. His thumb swipes some of it, pushes it back in, and you shudder.

"Perfect,” he mutters. “Messy, ruined, and finally mine. So fucking hot.”

When you were young, your mother sent you to the kingdom’s castle for your protection. Riots in the town were growing to become a casualty due to the lack of food to keep the townspeople afloat. The local baker, Minjun, offered to take you off your mother’s hands, as long as you would work for free and refrain from complaining.

He needed a sturdy wolf who could follow orders well, and your mother was lucky enough that you were even tempered. You left your home when you were just shy of your eighth birthday, following this stranger to the castle you always dreamed about.

Every little girl imagined what life could be like as royalty back then. You were not concerned yet over the politics the kingdom carried or the fact that the king was withholding goods that the people rightly deserved.

You simply longed to be a princess while you holed up in the kitchen of the castle, rolling dough until your hands began to ache.

Sometimes Minjun allowed you to soak in the sun for a few minutes, but you were never to stay outside for more than an hour. You didn’t know it then, but you later learned that this was to protect you from the wandering eyes of the castle.

Omegas were even more scarce during those days, and although there were laws set in place to protect underage omegas, Minjun was always careful. You didn’t really know the difference between alphas, betas, and omegas when you were a child. All you did know was that you grew up solely around betas, and your mother told you that being an omega made you special.

One day you were a bit too restless, straying farther than normal when Minjun granted you permission to take your afternoon walk. You spotted a pond nearby, and the country girl in you longed to see the fishes. You didn’t realize there was already a boy hovering over the water with armed guards surrounding him.

You gasped when a hand tangled into the back of your shirt, and you looked up to see a man sneering down at you.

“What do you think you’re doing, little omega?”

You peered over to witness the boy staring at you with a curious gaze. It was the first time you felt a tug in your chest, pulling you towards the direction of this stranger. He must’ve felt it too, since he started trekking towards you.

He was stopped by the four guards next to him, laying a protective hand on his chest.

“You can’t go near her, my prince. We don’t know who she is.”

Then you heard Minjun frantically calling your name, sprinting across the royal gardens to retrieve you. He bowed apologetically.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as he wrenched you away, holding you protectively by his side. “She’s my helper in the kitchen. I didn’t know she went off exploring.”

The guards did not seem convinced by his explanation. One of them barked in reply, “Don’t take your eyes off of her again. And it would do her some good to learn the royal customs. She didn’t even greet the prince upon arrival.”

Minjun offered his promises of educating you before leading you back. You kept your eyes locked on the boy the entire time, confused by the fuzzy feeling stirring in your chest.

Minjun scolded you that day for your behavior, and your brief periods of afternoon walks were taken away. You couldn’t shake the vision of the boy near the pond after that, daydreaming about him until the end of the year, when Minjun brought you back home.

You threw yourself into working for the bakery in town full-time, earning the nickname as Minjun’s prodigy. You learned to push the image of the boy to the back of your mind and focus on the potential of your future. Minjun wasn’t getting any younger, and he needed to elect someone to take over his position. Now in your twenties, your only focus is to master your craft.

“Watch out!” You call, balancing a tray of fresh bread as you pass by Donghyuck’s frame.

He grumbles when you nearly knock into him. “Why wouldn’t you let me help you with this batch? I promise I’m starting to learn!”

Although you’re wholly dedicated to the bakery life, Donghyuck needed any penny he could get to feed his family, which landed him here. He isn’t exactly gifted when it comes to baking, but he’s willing to try despite his many mistakes.

“Because this one actually needs to be edible enough to serve, Hyuck,” you reply, ignoring his scathing glare. “And the shop is about to open at any second. Can you please monitor while I fetch the cupcakes from the back?”

He gruffly nods, and you brush your hair away from your face as you shuffle into the kitchen. It’s better for Donghyuck to be away from the action anyways so he doesn’t look like such a mess. Flour covers every part of your hair and shoulders, and the apron tied around your waist barely helps deflect the ingredients coated over your skin.

In the midst of piping the cupcakes, you hear Donghyuck’s startled voice echo from the front of the store.

“Y-Your highness! Welcome i-inside!”

You freeze at the greeting. The bakery is hidden far enough inside the town that you never receive any royal visitors. The king and queen almost never liken themselves to the commoners and all royal guests are always escorted directly into the castle.

You quickly stride towards the front, gasping when you catch a glimpse of who Donghyuck is bowing to.

The same glimmering eyes of the boy you dream of every night stare back at you. You swallow, dropping into a curtsy at his presence.

“My prince,” you say, heart beating wildly in your chest.

He’s flanked by two guards, who stand protectively near him while scanning the area for any sign of danger. It’s far too early for any other customers to witness their prince casually out and about, but you suppose that must be his intention.

“Please,” the prince’s soft voice murmurs. “No need for formality. I’m just here to try a piece of the best desserts in the country.”

You flush at his compliment, nudging Donghyuck harshly with your elbow. The beta gets to work immediately, asking the prince what he would like to try from the current selection. You start to totter back into the kitchen, but the prince’s voice interrupts your movement.

“May I ask what the head pastry chef recommends?”

Your lower lip trembles under the attention of the alpha. Your omega instinct has the hair at the back of your neck standing tall, fueling the urge to submit to this man. The ball in the center of your chest tightens, pulling towards him like an unspeakable tether.

You haven’t seen him since that day near the pond yet your body’s reaction to him hasn’t changed. His alpha calls out to your omega.

“Our croissants are a popular choice,” you reply, attempting to steady your tone so he doesn’t notice how your hands are shaking. “I worked on them myself last night.”

The prince grins as if he’s proud of your accomplishment, and the omega inside you purrs at his approval. He promptly tells Donghyuck, “I’ll take the whole stock.”

“T-The whole s-stock?” Donghyuck stutters, glancing over at you to wordlessly ask, Can he do that?

You nod once, helping him pack up the goods to relinquish them over to the prince. When your hand brushes against his as you’re delivering the box, you gasp at the shock of electricity that runs up your arm.

The guards react briskly, stepping in front of the prince to block him from whatever seemed to cause your surprise.

“Sorry, your highness,” you say meekly, embarrassed by your behavior. “I don’t know what came over me.”

He pushes his guards away, glaring at them and warning them to back off. He takes the box from you, the corner of his lips lifting up sweetly.

“Call me Jaemin. And you never have to apologize to me.”

You could get lost in his eyes for days, but the moment is broken when one of his guards roughly tugs on his arm.

“We have to get moving, my prince. The townsfolk will wake soon.”

When Jaemin departs, you feel like a piece of your heart follows him. Donghyuck is dazed, speculating to himself if seeing the prince was actually real or a figment of his imagination. You return to the kitchen with a hand over your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.

—

You never learned what it truly means to be an omega.

Your mother used to say it’s what made you special, but as you grew older and became more of a center of influence within the town, she convinced herself that you were cursed into a life as an omega. She bought suppressants in the dark market for you to conceal your true self. The pills prevented betas from catching a whiff of your scent, although your mother could not afford suppressants strong enough to ward off alphas.

The omega population was dying at an alarming rate, and it was known that alphas were beginning to kidnap omegas on the street to shelter them away. Your mother’s greatest horror was losing you completely, waving you goodbye in the morning for your day at the bakery and never seeing you again afterwards.

She especially fretted over the powerful alphas who had connections in important places. Luckily, any alpha of high ranking was called to serve the kingdom, placed on the front lines of battle to defend your country.

Your mother bathed in the reassurance of knowing you wouldn’t be targeted by any alphas at the small bakery in town as long as you took your suppressants.

You guess that she never expected the prince to carve out time every morning to see you.

“My prince,” you say as soon as the chime of the door rings to indicate his entrance. No other customer is as early as him and Donghyuck has become so frightened of Jaemin’s frequent visits that he’s offered to knead dough during opening hours, which he would usually conjure excuses just to avoid the task. He’s scared of Jaemin losing his temper and sentencing him to exile, which apparently, Jaemin’s father has been known to do to citizens he disagrees with. “What can I get for you today?”

Some days, Jaemin’s lucky enough to sneak away from his guards and speak to you privately. It’s in these moments when your heart burns for him, desperate to be as close to him as possible.

You lean over the counter, eyelashes fluttering as he smirks at you.

“Depends on what you’re offering.”

Heat coils low in your belly. You’ve never felt this way for anyone before, alpha and beta included. Your only goal in life has been to help this bakery flourish, but whenever you see Jaemin, you also envision a ring on your finger and pups running circles around you.

But then you remind yourself that he’s next in line for the throne, and there’s no realistic future where you would ever be the queen sitting next to him.

You stand up straight, ignoring the way his eyes dim at your reluctance to play along.

“The muffins have been garnering more attention lately. We sold out of them yesterday when we were only halfway through the day.”

“I’ll take the lot then,” he says.

You learned one day after asking him out of curiosity that Jaemin would give out the pastries he purchases to people on the street to feed their overwhelming hunger. Donghyuck tells you it’s retribution considering Jaemin’s father is the reason why people are dying of starvation in the first place.

You box up the muffins for him, ready to mumble your goodbyes when he blurts out a question you’re not ready to hear.

“Have you ever been educated regarding soulbonds?” He asks with a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

You tilt your head in confusion at the unfamiliar term. “Soulbond?”

He opens his mouth to reply but then his guards are rushing in, out of breath as they double over.

“Your highness, we’ve been searching for you.”

Jaemin grits his teeth, displeased by their appearance. He arches closer to you before his guards wrench him away.

“Promise me you’ll look into it. Read about the effects of the soulbond and how it seals alphas and omegas together.”

“O-Okay,” you whisper, unsure of why he’s broached this topic with you.

During your lunch break, you scurry over to the library across the street. The lovely beta worker waves you in, making small conversation about how the bakery is holding up until you excuse yourself to browse the omega section. There aren’t many options to choose from, since the lack of omegas in the country also meant a decline in omega writers.

The title of soulbonds catches your eye, and you pull the book from the shelf without hesitation. The beta who checks you out doesn’t prod into your choice of novel, willing to look the other way with a promise of a free muffin in the near future.

When you return home, you confine yourself to the walls of your room. You flip through the pages of the novel with peaked interest, soaking up every word.

Soulbonds are the rarest form of connection between an alpha and omega.

Although history attests to only three soulbonds known in existence, many theorize that soulbonds are much more frequent than the public may believe. The common sign of soulbonds is the draw of their heart. An alpha’s base instinct will be to protect their omega, but also love and cherish their needs and wants. An omega’s base instinct will be to submit to their alpha, but also love and cherish their needs and wants.

Separating soulbonds can inflict pain on both the alpha and omega. If they are knowingly mated and pushed apart, it can lead to a state of distress and acts of violence against those caught in the crossfire.

Soulbonds cannot be broken. Once the omega is marked with the alpha’s bite, it secures their fate and ties their souls together.

To complete the soulbond, the alpha must sink their teeth into their omega’s neck with their knot inside their omega’s-

You slam the book shut, your heart beating so loudly that you can hear it vibrating in your ears. You can’t stop the influx of images of Jaemin hovering above you, eyes pulsating with need as his cock sits snugly inside your pussy. You imagine his knot inflating until he’s locked completely inside you, leaning down to mark you officially as his.

Although you tire yourself out that night with your hand in between your legs, you know the dream of Jaemin being your soulbond is nothing but a fantasy.

—

“I can’t serve him! What if he threatens to have me tortured in the basement of the castle?”

You roll your eyes at Donghyuck, retrieving your tray of cookies from the oven. You fan out the smoke, wiping your hands on your apron before you dash to the other end of the kitchen to resume stirring the brownie mix. Donghyuck watches you with a pout the entire way.

“Hyuck, please. I’m asking you for this one favor. I just can’t face the prince right now.”

“He scares you too, doesn’t he?” He asks with a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s okay to admit it. We all know what his father has done.”

To be honest, you don’t know the extent of the king’s wrath. You’re aware he’s not popular in the slightest with the people, favoring trade deals and military propaganda instead of looking out for his country. He’s a brash alpha who hasn’t bothered visiting your town once, and you assume he’s likely not clued in on his son mingling with the townsfolk so openly.

“Sure, Hyuck,” you concede, lying through your teeth because you want to cease his line of questioning. “I’m scared of the big bad king.”

He finds victory in knowing he’s justified in his terror, breezing past the ache in your voice since you won’t receive your alone time with Jaemin today. He handles the front of the store as a courtesy to you. You lose yourself in baking, switching your mind off from soulbonds and princes.

It isn’t until you hear Jaemin’s voice that your resolve starts to waver.

“Is she not in today?”

There’s a concerned twinge in his tone that has your heart melting, nearly forgetting to don an oven mitt when you pull the brownie mix out.

“She’s working in the back. We’re behind on orders,” Donghyuck answers smoothly. “I can help you with whatever you need today, your highness.”

“I need her,” Jaemin replies with more urgency. “I need to see her and know that she’s okay.”

Donghyuck stutters at his unexpected persistence. You cross your fingers, hoping that his quick wit will be enough to save you from facing the prince.

“S-She’s okay, your highness, I assure you. I spoke with her less than five minutes ago. We are terribly behind on orders and unfortunately, I’m not as skilled as her when it comes to the art of a mean brownie.”

You stretch your head out to listen to Jaemin’s retort, but you’re startled when you hear shuffling come in through the back door. A haggard Minjun enters, yawning into his palm when he strides inside the kitchen.

Since you became his prodigy, Minjun has shown up to the bakery less and less, entrusting you to keep things afloat in his absence. He doesn’t speak much about his personal life, but you understand that his wife’s health is in poor condition and he’s the only one available to help her. He pops in every now and then to check on you, and you swear at whoever in the clouds above must be taunting you that he decided to choose today of all days to drop by.

“Minjun,” you squeak. “You’re here.”

He hums in acknowledgment. “I thought I would help you with the cake orders today. Where’s Donghyuck? I’m shocked he’s not back here, offering to taste the frosting.”

“He’s out front,” you reply, hoping your expression doesn’t give away how nervous you are. “Just speaking to an early bird customer.”

Normally, Minjun would let it go and brush off your bouts of odd behavior, but the sharpness of the morning dew must be kicking his focus into gear. He narrows his eyes at your flushed appearance and the way you’re clutching the kitchen towel as if your life depends on it.

“What’s wrong?”

Then Jaemin’s agitated voice pipes up again, filtering down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Did she tell you she didn’t want to see me? Is that what this is about?”

Minjun is disturbed by the presence of the stranger, and before you can warn him not to investigate, his feet are already moving towards the entrance. You keep your back to the wall, clenching your fists together and praying that your mentor doesn’t blow your cover.

“My prince,” you hear Minjun greet, stunned by the revelation that royalty is standing in the middle of his bakery. “Forgive me, I was not expecting for your highness to stop by today. May I help you with the pastries?”

“I want to speak to your head chef. I need to see her,” Jaemin repeats, disregarding his formalities.

You squeeze your eyes shut, convinced that Minjun will grab you and drag you in front of the prince any second now. You’re certain he does not want to earn the reputation of the shop in town that denied the prince’s requests, especially considering what you’ve heard about Jaemin’s father.

You’re about to step out of the shadows and face your fear when Minjun harshly replies, “I apologize for not being able to oblige to your needs, your highness, but my head pastry chef is occupied with her work. I will not force her to appear in front of you simply because it is something you wish for.”

Silence ensues in the main room and your pulse quickens with panic. Maybe Donghyuck was right — maybe denying Jaemin could lead Minjun to a swift and painful death as punishment.

But somewhere deep down, your omega knows your alpha would never permit such brutality.

Your alpha. You scoff and scold yourself for allowing the admission to slip, even in the safety of your mind.

“Alright,” Jaemin replies, his voice strained from surrendering to the beta. “I-I’ll come back tomorrow. Please let her know I never meant to cause her harm.”

“I’ll pass on the message, your highness.”

When the door slams shut, a part of you aches at his absence. Your back slides down the wall as the steady rhythm of your chest starts to regain its tempo. You hear Minjun instructing Donghyuck to stay in his spot when he returns to you.

He stares at your crumpled form, exhaling loudly. “I never thought the prince would return for you. You should have told me sooner that he was making frequent visits.”

His statement launches you in a spiral of confusion. “Return for me? You know about his- his- his feelings for me?”

“My mother was an omega,” he shares, leaning against the fridge with a sigh. “And my father was an alpha drunk in love. I can recognize the look of a soulbond from a mile away.”

You burst into tears, weighed down by the fact that someone else finally knows what you’re going through. The emotions bubble to the surface before you can stop it from overflowing.

“I don’t know what to do, Minjun,” you weep into your palms. “He’s a prince! He’ll be the most powerful man in the country. I can’t be his soulbond. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

He takes pity on you, kneeling down to tear your hands away from your face. “A soulbond is a beautiful thing, child. I know it’s dangerous for you, especially once people discover you’re an omega, but I promise it’ll be the most fulfilling reward you’ll ever experience in your life. I saw a glimpse of it out there. That alpha prince is willing to fight for you, come hell or high water.”

“And what about his duties to the crown?”

He shakes his head. “No obligation, big or small, can keep soulbonds separated from one another. I still have a few connections in the castle. Let me see what I can discover regarding the prince’s responsibilities.”

You sniffle, warmed by his care for your current state. “Thank you, Minjun.”

He strokes your head lightly. “You’ll get your happy ending. Your alpha would never have it any other way.”

—

You haven’t seen Jaemin in two weeks.

You’re granting Minjun enough time to contact the castle staff and learn how much chaos you’ll bring into Jaemin’s life if you reveal your secret. It pains you every time Jaemin enters the bakery to see Donghyuck standing behind the counter, but you know that taking precautionary measures will benefit the both of you in the end.

Your omega, however, is restless. You toss and turn all night to no avail, yearning for your alpha to hold you tightly in his arms and never let go. Donghyuck notices the bags under your eyes but is smart enough not to comment on it.

You don’t anticipate how desperate Jaemin really is to see you. You assume he’s not faring much better from the separation but you’re startled when you’re confronted by him as you’re closing down the bakery for the day.

“Jaemin!” You squeal, holding a hand over your heart when you lock the back door, spinning around to see your alpha looming behind you. It’s only the two of you in the alleyway and you push your back against the wall. “W-What are you doing h-here?”

He only visits during the day, so you’re bewildered by him as the sun disappears past the skyline with no guards in sight.

“You’re upset with me,” he says, taking a step forward. His eyes are filled with a sorrow that tugs at your heartstrings. “And I want to apologize for whatever I’ve done to disappoint you.”

“You haven’t,” you immediately respond, distressed by the fact that your alpha has been unsettled by your behavior. “You haven’t, my prince. I’m just trying to figure a few things out right now.”

“Why can’t we figure them out together?”

He strides over until he’s cornered you against the wall, but you don’t feel suffocated in the slightest. In fact, your omega is pleased for the first time in weeks at having him so close. His eyes dart down to your lips and your willpower collapses.

“I’m the wrong omega to be your soulbond, alpha.”

His gaze darkens. “Never say that again. You’re perfect for me.”

“You need a princess,” you whisper, lost in the glimmer of his orbs. “A pretty princess who knows how to handle royal customs and procedures. I’m just a baker, alpha. I’m not the right fit for the crown-”

You squeak when his lips crash into yours. Your body instinctively slackens in his embrace, and your hands squeeze his biceps to balance yourself. Although his lips are soft against yours, his touch is anything but. His tongue slips past the opening of your mouth, licking into you until your body sings for him.

“Alpha,” you whimper as he greedily devours you. You’re distinctly hyper aware of where the two of you are, and if you know the prince, then you know his guards are scouring the streets to find him. “Alpha, w-we can’t.”

“Does your mother still live with you?” He asks, ignoring your pleas. His breath fans over your face. “Or do you live alone?”

You thrum with desire. The thought of your alpha taking you home and claiming you as his will likely haunt your dreams tonight.

“Alpha, we can’t.”

“Why?” He murmurs, kissing down your neck and feeling your pulse quicken under his lips. “You don’t want me, omega? You don’t want to take your alpha’s knot?”

A long whine draws out of you. “You’re not playing fair,” you complain, even though you’re both fully aware that you don’t mean it.

“Maybe I should just take you here,” he teases, and your breath hitches when his teeth graze over your mating mark. “You would probably like that, wouldn’t you, omega? Stuffed full of your alpha’s seed while he marks you as his forever?”

“Jaemin,” you gasp, losing your common sense with each passing second. “I’m not going to chain you to me when we both know how the country will react. How your father will react.”

That seems to snap him out of it. He pulls back from you as the cloud of lust begins to lift.

“How do you know about my father?”

Donghyuck’s frightened expression flashes through your head. “I’ve heard stories,” you say carefully. “And I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He cups the sides of your face gently. “I don’t want you worrying about him. He means nothing when it comes to us. He doesn’t get a say when soulbonds are involved. I plan on writing it into law as soon as he hands over the crown.”

You blink in confusion. “A law for soulbonds?”

“Protecting soulbonds should be our most sacred law. When you’re away from me, when I don’t know where you are or how you’re doing… it drives me over the edge. I can’t think for the rest of the day unless I know you’re safe. No soulbonded alpha or omega should have to feel that way ever,” he says, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “I miss you like crazy when you’re not with me, doll. I don’t want to be apart from you again.”

“But your father-”

“He’s old and brittle, unpopular with the people and days away from losing his title over his selfishness. Soon enough, I’ll be the king calling the shots. I will direct my attention back towards our citizens and win their favor. My father won’t get to speak on any matter regarding you,” he says firmly. “I’m going to protect you, omega. I want your happiness above all else.”

The pessimistic part of you doesn’t believe Jaemin can pull it off. The royal family has never wed outside of their class. Regardless of the townspeople’s love for your baked goods, you can’t imagine a world where they would accept a commoner as their queen.

But your alpha is optimistic, and you would do anything to keep his sparkle alive.

“Okay, alpha. I trust you.”

You hear his guards in the distance, calling his name with fervor as their footsteps echo throughout the town square.

He sighs and offers you one last kiss before he departs.

“Promise me you’ll stop avoiding me. That beta worker in there is starting to run out of excuses for your absence.”

You laugh fondly, recalling how Donghyuck told Jaemin this morning that you were away because you had to help a friend with a broken pinky.

“I promise. Can you promise that you won’t stir up any trouble over me?”

He’s lying through his teeth but you excuse him.

“I promise, omega.”

—

Despite seeing Jaemin in the early hours of the morning, your omega is still not content by the brief visits when you return home the following week.

Donghyuck is grateful that he no longer has to dodge the prince’s questions of your whereabouts. Minjun is skeptical, however, aware of you heading down a dangerous path with no clear answers. Oddly enough, he trusts Jaemin since the soulbond wouldn’t allow for you to be hurt under his watch. It’s the crown’s reaction to you that Minjun’s not able to predict.

You curl into a ball in the middle of your mattress, recalling the timid conversation with your mentor.

“The king places quite a burden on the prince’s shoulders. He’s exactly what Donghyuck is so afraid of — aggressive, selfish, and punching well below his weight when it comes to running this kingdom. The staff are fond of Jaemin because of his kindness but they’re afraid that time will harden his heart. The queen is no longer in charge of any civil duties. The king has relocated her to the furthest end of the castle. The staff believe that the king won’t hand over the crown so easily to his son. He’ll go down fighting.”

“And his son being soulbonded to a bakery girl wouldn’t help the issue,” you finish for him, ripping a brownie in half in the midst of your anger. You’re frustrated on behalf of your alpha, hating that he’s being subjected to mistreatment behind castle walls while you draw butterflies with icing on red velvet cupcakes.

“You can’t afford to think that way,” Minjun says, attempting to soothe the burn. “Jaemin wouldn’t want you to think that way.”

You sigh, burying your head into your pillow to try and shake the thoughts away. If you begin heading down the black hole of reasons why you’re all wrong for Jaemin, you’ll never dig yourself out.

A rattle at your window has your blood running cold. You throw your covers away, searching for the source of the noise when you spot Jaemin’s eyes peering through the glass.

“Jaemin?” You hiss in surprise. You stumble towards the window, unlatching and pushing it open for your alpha to climb inside. When he lands on his feet, you swallow at how his large frame engulfs your tiny bedroom.

“Cute,” he murmurs as he glances around. “Why is everything about you so cute?”

You flush, pulling down the hem of your nightdress shyly. “What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

His fingertips graze over your cheek. “You haven’t been sleeping well. My alpha’s been worried.” You stutter over an excuse but you’re stopped by his lips brushing over your chin. “And I’m the prince who will inherit this land. It’s not difficult for me to locate one address, doll.”

“My mother’s sleeping in the next room,” you blurt out, your heart rate quickening at the thought of being caught with him. If your mother was worried about alphas, she would definitely lose her mind to the sight of the prince kissing you in her house.

He chuckles. “I know she is. Why are you so worried, doll? What do you think I plan to do with you?”

You stammer shamefully, afraid to admit how lewd your thoughts really are about him. But he’s closing the gap before you can dwell on it any further. His lips chase yours in a heated tangle, pressing his warm skin against your own. Your omega purrs, satisfied by your alpha catering to your needs.

You gasp when he envelops you in his arms, guiding you to the bed until your back hits the mattress. Although he attested to being here under innocent pretenses, his hands grip your waist possessively, stealing every breath that releases from your lips.

“Alpha,” you whine, your core thrumming with an ache for him to fill. “Alpha, please.”

He groans. “I can’t knot you here, omega. Your mother will catch the scent.”

You’re struggling to remember who your mother even is since your mind is filled with thoughts of your alpha. The mating mark on your neck throbs in pain, begging for Jaemin’s teeth to sink into it and complete your soulbond.

Your previous grievances over ruining his fight for the crown disappear, replaced with unbridled lust for your alpha’s knot to be stuffed deep in your womb.

“Please, please, alpha,” you plead. “I need you inside.”

He grunts at the sound of your beautiful whimpers. He digs his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent to appease his alpha.

His voice cracks when he questions, “Does your mother keep suppressants in the house?”

You nod. “Yes, to ward any betas off from my scent.”

“Where?”

“Bathroom. Top shelf of the cabinet.”

He detaches from you, and you whine pitifully when he tiptoes out of your room and down the hallway. Your body feels like it’s on fire from his touch, and you swiftly tug your nightdress over your head and onto the floor. You hear him rummaging around in the bathroom and you can only hope your mother has succumbed to a deep sleep to avoid an awkward conversation about why the prince of the kingdom is rifling through your personal cabinet.

Your mind becomes addled with adoration for your alpha, sinking you deeper into a blurry state of mind. When Jaemin returns to see you, you’re incoherent and completely undressed, reaching for him with bleary eyes.

“Fuck,” he curses, using a handful of towels to block the gap in your door and prevent your scent from wafting into the rest of the house. “Doll, I think you’re going into heat.”

“Alpha,” you mumble as your eyes start to water. “Alpha, please.”

Once he feels that the door is blocked enough, he returns to you and hands you your bottle of suppressants.

“No,” you hiss, knocking them out of his palm while he stares at you in shock. “No, alpha.”

The idea of taking suppressants to disguise your scent from anyone suddenly sickens you. You want them to smell the combination of you and your alpha, especially when you’re in the throes of your heat.

“Omega,” he says sternly, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him using his alpha voice. The vibrato locks up your spine, forcing your omega to listen. “If your mother finds out that I’m in here with you, she won’t let me help you through your heat.”

You arch forward to meet his gaze head on. “Then get rid of her.”

You’ve never felt so emboldened before. Jaemin growls, curling a hand over your throat to pin you against the mattress. You never waver, challenging him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Your omega is determined to get your way, whether your alpha likes it or not.

“Stay here. I’m going to deal with your mother before I come back to dole out your punishment.”

He scrambles out your window, likely to call his guards and conjure up an excuse as to why your mother has to evacuate her own home this late at night. The heat doesn’t subside when he leaves, and your fingers wander down to your core to seek relief.

You barely register your mother’s frantic questioning down the hallway when the palace guards wake her. Two digits sink into your pussy when they escort her out the front door. Your hands tangle into your hair, thrashing on the bed as your heat continues to burn into your flesh.

You adjust your stance, laying face down on the pillows and hoisting your hips into the air in the perfect breeding position. Your cunt is directly in the view of whoever walks through the door, and you thrust three fingers into your sopping hole to alleviate the pain. It’s not enough to fulfill you, and you crave Jaemin’s knot desperately.

“Alpha,” you cry, hoping he can hear your whines outside. “Alpha!”

He storms through your bedroom door at the call of his name. He snarls at the sight of you presenting yourself to him. You glance back at him with tears running down your cheeks.

“Please, alpha. I need you.”

He’s quick to mount you, retracting your fingers and running his tongue over them to taste your wetness. You moan as you watch him.

“Filthy little omega,” he growls. “I leave you for one second and you’re trying to take what’s mine?”

“I’m sorry, alpha,” you blubber, unable to stop your rollercoaster of emotions. “It hurts. I-I need you.”

“I know you do,” he replies, shushing your cries. “Don’t worry, omega. Your alpha will take care of you.”

Your omega relaxes at the assurance. Your eyes follow him when he slumps down on the bed, lining up to face your dripping cunt. You mewl when he starts to lick at your slit, gathering your juices on his tongue. Slick pours out of you like it never has before, running down your thighs and staining the sheets.

You sink deeper and deeper into the animalistic wants of your heat, offering yourself up to your alpha and allowing him to do what he pleases. He drinks from you until the room swirls with a mix of your scents, appeasing your omega.

When you cum on his tongue, your body extends you a small break before launching you into thoughts of your alpha’s knot. Eventually, the only image swirling in your head is the base of Jaemin’s cock inflating inside you, locking you together while he claims you as his soulbonded omega forever.

You no longer have to beg for him, as he becomes attuned to what you’re craving. He rises to his knees, discarding his clothing to the floor. You gape at the sight of his hardened length at full mast. He’s big, his cock slapping up proudly against his stomach as he tries to wrap a hand around himself. He’s so thick that he fails to close his fingers together, and your mouth waters in anticipation.

He keeps one hand on your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Is this what you wanted, omega?”

You nod wildly until your neck begins to strain. “Yes, yes, alpha. Please.”

Your jaw drops open when he slowly eases his tip inside of you. The stretch doesn’t burn as it’s supposed to, and you credit your overflowing slick as the reason. You’re astounded when he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full, and your omega hums in contentment. You think you could die happy with your alpha’s cock nestled in between your legs.

“Pretty omega,” he coos, watching your expression carefully. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

“It’s g-good, alpha,” you murmur deliriously. “You’re s-so good.”

He chuckles, thrusting into you until you’re both feral with desire. You gasp into the crook of your arm when his cock beats into you. His grip moves to scratch at the base of your scalp, tugging your head upwards until he’s leaning over and spitting into your mouth. You swallow for him, showing him the evidence by sticking out your tongue. He grunts in approval.

When the pleasure starts to build too rapidly for you to fully grasp the situation, you claw at the sheets, attempting to move away.

“No, you don’t,” he barks, locking you in place by crushing you underneath his weight. You whine and shudder, your emotions lurching at the hypersensitivity. “You’re staying right here, omega. You’re going to lay down and take your alpha’s knot.”

It’s not remotely possible for him to be deeper inside you. He’s pushing and pushing while your breath gets knocked out of your lungs. You’re certain you’ll never feel this way with anyone else. This mind numbing exhilaration is only meant to be experienced with your soulbonded alpha.

“Mark me, alpha,” you whisper, outstretching your neck to him. “I want to be yours.”

Your common sense is buried somewhere in your chest, struggling to get out. Deep down, you know that it’s an idiotic move to be mated before you’ve even discussed the consequences in detail. This will bind Jaemin to you for life, which may force the king’s reluctance to hand over the crown.

But fuck, the only thing you want at this moment is your alpha’s knot and his bite.

As his knot swells and swells inside of your pussy, he leans over to sink his teeth into your neck. Blood drips down your collarbones as your eyes roll to the back of your head. You gush around his length when he seals your fate permanently.

Ropes of cum fill you until it’s spilling out of your cunt. The strings of your heart tie together, latching in place to signify your bond to your alpha. You feel whole for the first time in your life.

You stay pressed together when he withdraws his teeth, licking up the leftover blood spilling from your wound. Your eyes flutter shut, lulled into a safe space with your alpha here.

You temporarily wake up to hear chatter outside your door, distinguishing Jaemin’s voice above the others.

“I don’t care what your orders are. My omega’s in heat and she’s my soulbonded mate. I would rather kill every single one of you than leave her.”

A shaky voice replies, “Your highness, your father’s about to wrangle a search party together. We’re not sure how much longer we can hold him off.”

Your alpha scoffs. “When has my father ever cared about my whereabouts?”

“We’ve received a visitor, my prince. Princess Chaeyoung has finally arrived at the castle.”

Jaemin roars. “And he thinks I’ll abandon my omega for a beta girl I don’t even know?”

“I-I’m just delivering his h-highness’s message, m-my prince!”

A few more words are exchanged between your alpha and his guards in hushed, violent tones. You calm your racing heart at the idea of Jaemin returning to the arms of a princess by the time he re-enters your bedroom. He lays back down by your side, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling your back snugly against his front.

“What was that all about, alpha?” You inquire in a meek voice.

He kisses down your neck, licking at your permanent mark. “Nothing you should worry about, doll,” he says, curling a hand over your inner thigh and spreading your legs open. You moan when he eases his cock back into you, your heat starting to flare up again at his touch. He hums in your ear. “Nothing you should worry about at all.”

—

When Minjun reveals to Donghyuck that you’re an omega, the beta doubles over in laughter.

“She’s not an omega! I would’ve noticed, I’m not that dumb.”

But when you quietly step into the bakery’s kitchen with Jaemin’s mark over your neck, Donghyuck’s jaw drops to the floor. You smile softly at Minjun, slightly ashamed of your impulsive behavior.

When you were absent from your shift on the first day of your heat, Minjun started hanging up photos of you in the town square, asking if anyone had seen you. Then your mother had come running down the block, screaming for Minjun’s help as the palace guards had invaded her home overnight. It was easy for Minjun to fit the puzzle pieces together after that.

You flush, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. “I can still stick around to help in the back.”

Minjun raises an eyebrow while Donghyuck tries to pick his jaw up.

“Yeah? And how would your alpha react to that?” Minjun asks.

You think of how you had to peel Jaemin away from you this morning. His protective stare never wavered when he watched you get dressed, and you promised him you would only be dropping by to hand in your resignation.

You swallow. “I can be very persuasive.”

“You’re not putting yourself in danger so you can bake cupcakes. That’s ridiculous. I’ll work with Donghyuck to improve his skill,” Minjun says with no room for argument.

Donghyuck blinks at him, astonished that Minjun believes Donghyuck has any chance of becoming a better baker. You’re nearly about to insist that you can return to work as normal, but then the back door is cracking open and your alpha strides in.

He’s immediately at your side, nudging his nose into your temple and inhaling your scent. Donghyuck pales at the sight of him.

“You were gone for too long,” your alpha complains. “Come on. The guards are outside.”

You throw another apologetic look towards your mentor, but he waves you off and throws an arm over Donghyuck’s shoulder. You bid them farewell before following Jaemin outside where his armed guards are patiently waiting.

None of them make eye contact with you when you slip into the carriage next to your alpha. You fiddle with your hands when the horse trods in the direction of the palace.

“I’m nervous, alpha,” you whisper, avoiding the blatant gawking of the townspeople as you ride by.

Jaemin waves to them in his royal fashion, intertwining your hands to demonstrate his claim over you. You internally giggle at your alpha. As if the mark isn’t enough proof that you belong to him.

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” he assures you in a soft tone. “I have already directed the staff to move your belongings from your mother’s to our wing of the castle. We offered your mother the spare room as well, but she’s still recovering from the news.”

You think of your mother and how you haven’t gotten a chance to explain any of this to her. One of the guards revealed that she hadn’t taken it lightly when they broke the news of what you and Jaemin were getting up to behind closed doors. She was fearful of what could happen to you within the controlled walls of the kingdom.

You were no longer a young girl with an escort and underage omega laws to protect you. You were now an omega claimed by an alpha who would become the next king, placing the biggest target across your back.

But your nerves have been calmed by the optimism of your alpha, who sees nothing but good outcomes for you both. He chatters away during the entirety of the carriage ride, easing your anxious nature by the smoothness of his voice.

“The pond where we first met is still there. It’s become my personal project to ensure it thrives and flourishes. We’ve been planting flora and fauna there in preparation for your arrival.”

“You never told me how you found me again, alpha,” you say, tracing lines over his fingertips. “I was amazed when you showed up at the bakery.”

He smiles, kissing you on the cheek. “You never left my sight, doll. I’ve been guaranteeing your safety ever since you left the castle. Who do you think sold your mother those suppressants for half of its worth?”

You grin at his attentiveness. He’s shown you time and time again that the universe linked you to the perfect alpha. You kiss him and caress his cheek.

“I love you, alpha.”

“I love you more,” he replies instantly. He lays a hand over your stomach and smirks. “I hope you’re pregnant with our pup already, doll.”

You swat his hand away playfully. “One thing at a time, alpha.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when the carriage approaches the palace gates. The staff greet Jaemin warmly, staring at you curiously while your alpha helps you down. Workers swarm you to help you shrug off your coat and Jaemin asks them about dinner arrangements for tonight.

“Your highness, the king has requested your presence in his chambers upon arrival.”

Your alpha grits his teeth. “Well, he has to wait until I’ve properly shown my omega around our quarters.”

The staff member nods, not willing to strike up an argument with their beloved prince. You trail Jaemin’s footsteps through the castle, astonished by the stunning architecture and respect from the workers who bow in your presence. You huddle closer to your alpha, and he grips your hand tightly in his, kissing your forehead when he senses your uneasiness.

“Here is your remodeled quarter, my prince.”

You exhale sharply at the large room that you can now call yours. It’s bigger than the size of your mother’s house, and Jaemin chuckles fondly when you release his grip to explore.

“Leave us,” he murmurs to the staff, and they bow their heads before departing.

Your eyes drink in the fireplace at the south wall, and you recall the winters where you and your mother would have to gather as many blankets in your arms as you could to seek warmth. The space is decorated head to toe in sleek, velvet furniture, cozy enough for you to curl into a ball and take a nap on the lounge chair by the fire. The four poster bed is the centerpiece of the room, dressed in silk sheets fit for a royal.

You squeal when you’re thrown onto the mattress, your alpha drinking you up with hungry eyes.

“Alpha, your father said he requested your presence,” you remind him, but you know there’s no stopping Jaemin once he’s started.

“And I don’t care what he requests. I want to ravage my omega in our shared bed. Is that okay with you?” He says with a playful raise of his eyebrow.

You giggle. “As long as I don’t get you into trouble, alpha.”

You stay tangled in the sheets while your alpha scatters love bites across your neck, knotting you until your womb is filled to the brim with his seed.

If this is what paradise is like, then you truly never want to leave.

—

Jaemin doesn’t part from you until you’ve squirted around his length at least three times.

He wraps you in the blankets when he’s finished, letting you sleep while he instructs the guards posted at the door to watch over you. He’s annoyed as he strolls down the castle hallways, turning each corner until he arrives at his father’s door. He would much rather be in bed with you than put up with this nonsense, which the guards can sense as they let him through without question.

When Jaemin enters his father’s room, the king is perched at his desk. Jaemin has no doubt that his father is writing letters to encourage neighboring leaders to side with him instead of his son for control of the crown.

“Father,” Jaemin greets dully, not bothering to bow in his presence.

The king’s jaw clenches at the sound of his son’s voice. “I see you’ve brought that commoner girl home,” he says, and Jaemin’s alpha instincts stir to defend you. But he knows that’s exactly the kind of reaction his father wants, so he bites his tongue and allows the comment to pass. “Your mother is appalled that you would exhibit such egregious disrespect towards the throne.”

“My mother?” Jaemin cackles. “The same mother you sent away because she had an opinion of how this kingdom should operate? How the people shouldn’t have to beg for food to survive? How thousands of their sons are perishing away on the battlefield for your senseless war?”

His father’s fist collides with the hardwood roughly, baring his teeth at his son. The two alphas challenge each other, even though they both know who would come out the other side victorious.

Nobody can stop an alpha once their stake over their soulbonded omega is put into question. Jaemin would fight to the death for you, and his father is well aware of that.

Jaemin approaches him with a fire behind his eyes. “This is how we’re going to handle this — I’m going to spend the next few weeks showing my omega around her castle and get her acquainted with the staff. Then, when we’re both ready, you will concede the crown over to me and I will rule with her by my side.”

His father has the audacity to roll his eyes. “You’re a child. The kingdom will see how inexperienced you are and how you’ve tainted the royal name by letting a commoner rise to power.”

Jaemin roars at the second insult intended for his omega, and for the first time, his father flinches at the sound. Jaemin has never felt more powerful until this moment. The buzz of his alpha’s control courses through his veins.

“The kingdom will see a benevolent prince who’s done nothing but fed them with the earnings from his own wallet while his father feasted selfishly in the castle. Don’t forget that I’ve been the one out there with the people, listening to their troubles and showing them the good that can come out of the throne. They’ll riot in the streets if you try to replace me,” he says, watching the color drain from his father’s expression. “And they’ll love their queen, who has been a center of grace for the community since she was a young girl. Don’t start a fight when you know you can’t win.”

He leaves his father’s study, irritated by having been pulled away from you for so long. The guards stand stiffly near the door, likely eavesdropping on the entire conversation. They bow their heads in submission to the prince, and Jaemin wonders if they know how much the dynamic has changed already.

On his way back to your shared chambers, a beta girl throws herself in front of him, dropping into a curtsy and blocking his path down the hallway. He’s a gentleman, but he’s very close to losing that title if one more person tries to stand in between him and his omega.

“Prince Jaemin,” she greets, her delicate face contrasting the gaudy jewels decorating her neck. He guesses this is the princess his father imported to thwart him away from you. “I’ve been patiently waiting for your arrival.”

He grunts in response as his patience wears thin.

She continues, “I’ve heard an abundance of rumors regarding your striking features but it seems they haven’t done you justice.”

“I’m busy,” he promptly replies, attempting to sidestep her.

She’s faster than him, following his movements as she stands far too close to his figure. His alpha snarls at the obvious disregard towards his omega. This beta girl could never be you, and it’s shameful that she thinks she could even come close.

He takes a step back. “I suggest you learn your place here. When I say I do not have time to speak with you, I can assure you I’m not tugging on your leash.”

“I understand, alpha,” she replies submissively. “But I’m afraid I haven’t been given a fair chance to prove myself. My mother sent me here with every intention of me returning as this kingdom’s queen.”

“You’re gravely mistaken if you think you have a chance against my soulbonded omega,” he laughs, ignoring the way she winces at the statement. “Which, speaking of my omega, you are keeping me from caring for her. I don’t think you would like to stick around if this issue continues to persist.”

The princess finally steps out of his way, sensing she has lost the battle. Jaemin doesn’t offer her a second glance as he storms through the castle and back to your room.

Luckily, you’re still sound asleep in bed, and he coos at how domestic you look. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, licking at your mating mark while his alpha preens in delight. You’re warm against his chest, and he thinks he could stay in this moment forever.

“Alpha,” you murmur, your voice heavy from drowsiness.

He shushes you gently. “Go back to sleep, omega.”

“I’m not sleepy anymore.”

He groans when you roll your hips against him. He can smell your arousal wafting through the air. His alpha perks up, drawn in by his omega begging for him. His mind drifts into a need to claim, breed, and get you whimpering for him until there’s no other thought in your pretty head.

He speculates on if your heat ever even stopped with the way you two keep going at it.

His lips envelop yours, savoring your taste by swirling his tongue around the inside of your mouth. When you catch the unknown scent of the beta princess lingering on his clothes, your nose twists in disgust as you pull away from him.

“Why do you smell like that? Who were you with?”

Your eyes flash with envy and he smirks, nudging his nose against your jaw. He loves that you get jealous over him because it means that you want him all to yourself. He also thinks it’s sexy when you become possessive, allowing your omega instincts to wash over.

“That beta princess is still here, thinking I’ll somehow change my mind and run to her,” he says with a clear disdain in his tone. He can feel the waves of anger rolling off your form. “Don’t worry, doll. She knows now she could never compare to you.”

But when he reads the insecurity spread across your face, he worries he hasn’t been taking care of you properly.

“Maybe she would be a better fit for you,” you say with a pout, which he kisses away.

“You know you’re my perfect fit,” he replies, losing himself in your scent. “How many times do I need to knot you for you to understand that, doll?”

You bat your eyelashes, taking the bait. “One more wouldn’t hurt.”

He doesn’t care if the whole castle hears your moans when he mounts you, driving his cock snugly into your cunt. You welcome him with open arms, whining into your pillow as he fucks you senseless. His lips never leave your body for a second, dragging against your skin so that you never doubt that he only wants you.

“You’re so big, alpha,” you mewl when he leans over to spit into your mouth. “I want your knot. I want to feel it stretching me out.”

His alpha urges spin out of control at your confession. “Yeah, doll?” He grunts as his hips jerk forward. The squelch of your pussy blasts throughout the room every time his length pushes past your folds. His hand snakes towards your front to spread over your belly, and it’s the dream of you being swollen with his pups while sitting on the throne that has him pounding into you harder. “You want my knot? Do you know what will happen if I keep knotting you like this? If I keep filling you with my cum until it spills out of you?”

“Please, alpha,” you say, voice thick with lust. “Please breed me. I want to carry your pups. I want to show that beta princess that you’re all mine.”

He sinks his teeth into your mating mark again when his knot inflates, pouring his warm seed into you until it’s dripping down your thighs. You tighten around him, mixing his cum with your own juices, panting heavily from the way your alpha can unravel you in seconds.

“Good omega,” he praises when you take his knot so easily. It’s almost second nature to you now, the way you two snap together like puzzle pieces. “I’m always going to love you, doll. And only you.”

“Until we have our pups?”

He chuckles at the innocence of your question, brushing away the hair sticking to your face to kiss you softly.

“Until we have our pups. Then I’ll love and care for them as much as I love and care for you.”

—

You hate being away from your alpha.

You never imagined you would be in this spot, surrounded by handmaidens who bathe and clothe you in the heart of the castle. They’ve been very cordial with you, relaying fond stories of the prince and his goodwill.

You’ve been at the castle for over three weeks now, and your lovely honeymoon with Jaemin had to come to an end after he caught the rumors of the king preparing for war against his own son. Your alpha is usually absent during most hours of the day, strategizing with his allies on how best to take down his father. He leaves you protected with your handmaidens and a handful of guards, worried his father will try to hurt you for the sake of keeping the crown.

Everyone in the castle is well aware you and Jaemin are soulbonded mates, if the mark on your neck is anything to go by. It’s a benefit and a weakness to you, for the staff has officially accepted you as their future queen but they possess the knowledge that if anything were to happen to you, it would greatly impact Jaemin. You’re fearful that the king will take advantage of this, and you fret over your alpha’s health nearly every second of the day.

“Did you remind the prince to eat his lunch?” You ask your nearest handmaiden, who smiles and nods while she pulls up the silk dress over your torso.

“Yes, my lady. I also conveyed your anxiety over him not eating,” she replies, and you swallow your concern. “Based on the latest report, the prince scarfed down every last piece of his meal.”

You grin in approval, your omega satisfied by your alpha following your orders. You’re about to question if she’s heard any gossip over the progression of Jaemin’s plan, but a sudden spike in your stomach has you lurching forward. You empty the contents of your stomach onto the floor and you hear your handmaidens gasping around you, holding back your hair and calling for the doctor.

“My lady, my lady,” they say as they run around the room while a few of them lift you from your dressing chair and help you to your bed. Some of them begin to discuss how to clean the sick from the floor without making you more nauseous by the smell.

You groan, confused by where this bout of sickness originated from. You’ve been in perfect health since arriving to the kingdom, especially under Jaemin’s care. Perhaps your omega is reacting violently to your alpha being away for so long.

The harsh whispers of your handmaidens continue.

“We should call the prince!”

“Are you joking? We were the ones placed in charge of caring for his omega, and he’ll be far from pleased to see her in this state. Let’s wait for the doctor to make a proper diagnosis.”

“But what if it’s serious? The prince would want to know!”

“Don’t call him,” you mumble, throwing a hand over your eyes to block the light. “I’m fine, I’m certain this is a temporary illness. He should be focusing on obtaining the crown.”

A few of the handmaidens murmur in disapproval but they don’t go against your order. The royal doctor arrives within minutes, rushing to your bedside and taking your temperature. You sigh while he works, already feeling bile start to climb up your throat again.

When he finishes his examination with a smile, you tilt your head in confusion at him.

He claps his hands together joyously. “I’m proud to share the news of your pregnancy, my lady. It seems you’re already beginning to experience the signs of your morning sickness.”

The words fail to register with you completely. Your jaw drops as your body goes still, all while your handmaidens begin cheering at the news.

You should have expected this to happen, considering all you and Jaemin discuss these days is having pups. When he’s not inventing new battle strategies, he’s usually deep inside your womb, knotting you until he’s pleased with how much of his cum drips out of you.

Then, the euphoric feeling spreads from your toes to your head before you’re giggling from happiness. The room exalts with the news before someone has the right mind to fetch your alpha.

While you wait for Jaemin, the doctor tells you what to expect over the coming months and how your strength must be the staff’s utmost priority to prepare for the future ruler of the crown. His advice is stopped, however, when the prince rushes into the room.

You beam at the sight of him, sitting up against the headboard, excited to share the news. The workers sense the wordless command of their ruler, filing out to give you space until only you and Jaemin are left.

He’s on the mattress in a split second, pushing his nose against your jaw and inhaling your scent.

“I heard you were sick,” he says, disturbed by the thought. “What’s wrong, doll? What did the doctor say?”

You’re grateful to the staff member that left to inform him, leaving out the big news for you to share with your alpha.

“I’m perfectly fine, alpha,” you laugh at the bewildered look on his face. You adore the way your alpha frets over you, and your fingers smooth out the lines creasing over his forehead. “I’m better than fine, actually.”

“You’re sure?” He says, cupping your cheeks in his hands and glancing over your features to see if anything is amiss.

You gently take his hand, moving it away from your face and placing it over your stomach. He stares at you, disoriented by the contrasting information from his guard of your sickness to your cheery demeanor.

“You did it, alpha,” you say, hoping he’ll understand. “We did it.”

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, Jaemin’s eyes soften and his expression crumbles. He darts his gaze between your belly and your smile, taking in the fact that he’s going to be a father.

“Omega,” he murmurs, tears welling in his eyes. “Omega, it’s true?”

Tears stream down your cheeks when you nod. “It’s true. We’re going to have our pups.”

You spend the rest of the evening wrapped up in your alpha’s arms, laughing in bliss together as he speaks gently to your stomach, telling your child how they’ll be drowned in love.

—

You’d normally be embarrassed by how you struggle to step down from your carriage, but the overwhelming size of your belly prevents you from seeing your toes. The nearest guard helps you into Minjun’s arms, and your former mentor welcomes you with a blinding smile. Donghyuck stands behind him with a wary gaze, eyeing the guards on the street carefully.

“Welcome home,” Minjun says, helping you inside the bakery.

The smell of fresh pastries hits you like a tidal wave, and it makes you realize how long it’s been since you’ve last visited. Everything still looks the same, and you wonder if the townspeople have adjusted to the way Donghyuck has started to bake their beloved goods.

You insisted on dropping by before you give birth, which launched your alpha into a protective frenzy as he carries out the final battle against his father. The castle has practically devolved into a war zone, with you secluded in your room for weeks and Jaemin returning when the sun has set over the horizon. Obviously, it hurts him to be away from you, especially this late into your pregnancy, but the king hasn’t relented on his stake for the throne and the people are growing weary of the internal commotion.

Food supplies haven’t improved due to the king’s stubbornness, and soldiers are perishing away, whether it be in castle walls or out on the battlefield. You can no longer stand by and watch it happen, convincing your alpha to let you feed the civilians by getting back into the kitchen. You took the political standpoint, understanding you could garner their favor towards Jaemin if they witnessed his omega cleaning up his father’s mess. He couldn’t argue much after that, but he did enlist a handful of his militia team to join you in case of any danger.

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to be baking right now?”

You twirl when you reach the back of the kitchen. The late nights of stirring batter and piping cupcakes wash over you, and you’re giddy from returning to what you love.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, brushing off his worries and laying a hand over your stomach. “Trust me. Jaemin wouldn’t have let me leave if it wasn’t safe.”

The line out the bakery door wraps around the building after the townspeople hear their future queen will be feeding them with no charge. You fall into your old rhythm inside the kitchen, with Minjun assisting you as Donghyuck controls the influx of orders.

Minjun chats with you as you work. “Jaemin must be overjoyed by your pregnancy. I’m only sad to hear that the king won’t relent in his unrealistic claims.”

“He’s stubborn,” you sigh. “And Jaemin is trying his best. The twins have definitely become his main motivation to keep pushing through.”

“Twins?” Minjun asks with raised eyebrows. “That’s wonderful! I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” you say with a laugh. “I actually think Jaemin was hoping for triplets.”

“Of course he was.”

You roll dough until your hands ache, giggling with Minjun when he recants stories of his slow teaching sessions with Donghyuck. The man in question comes storming in when the rush hour hits its peak.

“There’s too many out there, I’m starting to forget what they’ve ordered,” Donghyuck whines.

“Alright, alright,” Minjun concedes. “Let’s switch. Just try not to burn anything this time.”

Donghyuck sticks out his tongue childishly at the remark. Minjun moves to the front to handle the townspeople and you turn your back to start pouring the brownie mix into the oven tin.

“I’ve heard your baking skills have started to improve,” you say to Donghyuck with a smirk painted on your lips. “Minjun tells me you’re getting better and better at frosting the cakes.”

He remains silent, which is unusual for his character, and you spin around to question him. You gasp when a sharp knife is thrust towards your chest. You dodge the attack in time, screaming for your guards as you protectively cradle your belly.

They storm in and seize Donghyuck while the beta apologizes profusely.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! He made me, I swear!” Donghyuck pleads as the knife clatters to the floor and your guards restrain him. Donghyuck chants your name apologetically. “I didn’t want to, I’m sorry!”

Minjun rushes back when the chaos unfolds, flocking to your side and checking for any injuries. You’re stunned, holding a hand over your beating heart as reality sinks in that Donghyuck attempted to murder you.

Your head guard speaks in a commanding tone. “Take him to the palace jail for questioning. Inform the prince of the incident right away and secure the lady.”

“Wait,” you croak before they can carry Donghyuck out. When you look into his eyes, you see the young boy who would open the bakery every morning with you. You see the mischievous expression he makes when he eats your chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. You see the boy who supports his entire household on his meager salary. “He didn’t mean to do this. I know he didn’t.”

“My lady,” the head guard starts, knowing he has to follow protocol.

“She’s right, I didn’t!” Donghyuck whimpers. “The king made me. He threatened my family!”

Your heart fills with concern over him, but the head guard exhales at the admission.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but we have to take him in either way. The prince will decide the best direction for his subsequent punishment.”

Your cries go unanswered as they escort Donghyuck out the back door. Minjun rubs your arm in comfort, a pained expression clouding his face. He leaves you in the kitchen temporarily to shut the bakery down for the day, citing an emergency for the unexpected closing.

The remaining guards hover over you, waiting for you to compose yourself. You grip the edge of the kitchen counter, taking deep breaths. You know Jaemin won’t punish Donghyuck too harshly if you ask, but the feral part of your alpha will roar for the safety of his soulbonded omega.

“My lady,” one of the guards pipes up. “I apologize, but we must escort you back to the castle as soon as possible. We are flying blind on if that was the king’s only attempt to assassinate you. There could be others threatening to oppose the safety of the crown.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in the arms of your alpha.

“What about the people? Who will feed them?”

“I will,” Minjun replies when the last of the customers have left. “We still have plenty left over to hand out. Please, go back to the castle and get some rest. You should have never been put in this position, and I’ll take full blame.”

You shake your head. “No, Minjun, I can’t let you-”

He holds your shoulders firmly. “You can and you will. As much as I love having you here again, your duty is to your alpha and the pups you’re carrying. I should have recognized how antsy Donghyuck was behaving this morning. I should have confronted him.”

“He’s lost and he’s scared,” you say, vouching for the man you used to call your friend. “You know he’s always been terrified of the king.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to attack you,” Minjun states fiercely. “Go home and let your alpha dole out the appropriate consequence. Take care of your pups first.”

The guards stay on high alert during your ride back to the castle. The townspeople wave at you when you pass by, thankful for your gracious actions and deeply unaware that you almost lost your life in your quest to feed them. You display the rehearsed smile you’ve been practicing for weeks, bidding them goodbye and promising to visit again soon.

Your alpha is on a rampage when your carriage passes through the castle walls. He lifts you out easily, gathering you in his arms and inhaling your scent to calm him.

“It’s okay, alpha,” you soothe. “I’m okay. The pups are okay.”

Jaemin is shaking with an anger you’ve never seen before. “I’ll kill him,” he whispers into your hair, afraid to let you go. “I almost lost you.”

You wipe away his tears, cradling the sides of his face in your palms. “It wasn’t Donghyuck’s fault, alpha. He was scared for his family.”

“He almost took away my family,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fuck. Doll, you’re never leaving without me again, do you understand? I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“I know, I know,” you shush his cries, conscious of his changing emotions. You can’t imagine the pain he must have felt when he was delivered the news. “It’s okay, alpha. We’re okay.”

Jaemin carries you back to your chambers, keeping a tight grip on you in fear of someone taking you away. He bites your mating mark when you’re in the comfort of your own bed, and the seal of the bond sends a wave of calmness to you both.

He’s still fighting the battle between his anger and his sorrow, and he lays with you in bed for the rest of the day, which is the first time in weeks you’ve spent so much time together.

“My omega,” he whispers into your skin, assuring himself that you’re here with him. He scatters love bites across your skin to ease his alpha’s fury. “I’ll protect you, my omega.”

“You’re a good alpha. We’re safe with you.”

It isn’t until the complete darkness of the night that he shares with you, “I ordered a kill strike on my father.”

You gasp. “Jaemin-”

“He tried to kill you. He tried to kill a soulbonded omega. Murdering you would have effectively ended my own life. Even the thought that you were put in that position has me going insane,” he growls, resting his forehead on your bulging belly to calm himself.

He can hear the thump of your pups’ heartbeats, and it reminds him how easily this life can be taken away. It’s too much to bear, and he sits up to undress his lower half. His rage quells slightly when he’s seated deep inside you, watching you tremble underneath him.

“Alpha,” you choke out as his cock stretches out your puffy folds. “He’s still your father. Someday you might regret this.”

“I won’t. Not when my omega’s life is on the line. Don’t worry, doll. I told them to leave him hanging on the edge for me so I can deliver the final blow.”

Your mind is clouded when his length beats into you. Since you hit your third trimester, it seems as if you’re wet almost all the time. Slick drips down your thighs during random parts of the day, begging for your alpha to fill you. Because of Jaemin’s war against his father, you spend most nights craving him, thrusting your fingers into your pussy until your wrist aches.

When you have the real thing in front of you, it’s the only image you want to think about.

He hooks your knees over his arms, angling himself until he’s locked you deep in a mating press. If you weren’t currently pregnant, you’re certain tonight would be the night Jaemin would ensure you were bred properly.

“You’re so big, alpha,” you whine with tears in your eyes. “You fit me so well.”

“My precious omega, I’ll never love anyone but you,” he mumbles, directing his hips forward. “You’re mine forever, doll. I won’t let my guard down like that again.”

Your alpha knots you twice that night, etching promises into your skin for your safety until the sun peeks through the curtains. When you’re exhausted beyond belief, he leaves you to handle his father for once and for all.

No one threatens the life of his omega.

—

Jaemin will admit he’s somewhat of a sadist.

He doesn’t exhibit the traits of a sadist that often, due to the disapproval he would receive from the public. In their eyes, he’s a cheerful prince who wants to resolve their every problem.

But as he stares at the man who raised him, the man who has nearly discarded Jaemin’s entire reason for living, he wants to peel this man’s skin off until he’s begging for his son to grant him mercy.

His soldiers have already done a number on the king at Jaemin’s request. His father writhes in pain while Jaemin watches fruitfully, his alpha pleased by the turn of events.

“I bet you wish you had just given up the crown when I asked, hm?” Jaemin says, leaning down until he’s face to face with the king. His father is currently restrained to the throne, blood dripping from his forehead while he struggles to break free of the chains. “Instead, you wasted the kingdom’s resources by prolonging this useless civil war. But guess who ended up victorious anyway?”

His father has the audacity to smile. “The people will never respect you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. They never respected you.”

His nearest commander hands Jaemin a long blade. The prince examines it carefully, pondering over your words from the previous night. Would he regret killing his father?

He remembers how the mere presence of the king is a threat to your life, for anyone who supports him will constantly crave your death. No, Jaemin needs to make a statement. He has to tell the world that he will slaughter any being who wishes for your demise, including his father. You’re Jaemin’s whole heart, and he couldn’t live without you.

He lines the tip of the blade to his father’s chest, and the king barks in laughter.

“I hope she’s worth it. I hope she’s worth killing your own father and taking a throne that you don’t deserve. Omega bitch.”

His alpha doesn’t hesitate then. Dozens of soldiers stand by as the king’s life is taken by his son. They drop to one knee to bow to the new king, and Jaemin clenches his jaw when he withdraws the sword from his father’s corpse.

“My king,” the soldiers echo in submission.

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Clean this up. And communicate to the queen’s handmaidens that they must prepare her for the coronation.”

He flees the room, disgusted by the sight. The workers scatter into a flurry, switching their gears from the mindset of war to a new era of leadership.

Jaemin just has one more person he needs to deal with.

Donghyuck is a weeping mess in his prison cell, shackled with his arms and legs tied together. His eyes widen when he catches the view of the prince storming towards him. He backs up into the farthest corner of the cell, afraid to accept his fate.

Jaemin glares at him. “The only reason I’m not burning you at the stake is because my omega asked for my leniency.”

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck blubbers. “I needed to protect my family. I never meant to actually hurt her! Is she okay?”

Jaemin has to think of you in order not to maim this beta. How dare he inquire after your health when he was the one who put it at risk?

“You’ll return to your house in the countryside. I will handle your family’s debts, but that means you will in no way come in contact with my omega or her bakery ever again. You are to stay out of the public eye. If I catch wind of you stirring up trouble, I won’t allow my omega to convince me of your innocence a second time.”

Donghyuck drops to his knees, sobbing as he clutches his hands together.

“Yes, my prince! I promise you will never see me again, I swear this to you.”

Jaemin bares his teeth. “I’m the king now, and you will refer to me as such.”

“Y-Yes, my k-king!”

—

The celebration of the new king and queen is delayed by your water breaking unexpectedly before coronation day.

You deliver a pair of healthy twins, a boy who shares your features and a girl who inherits Jaemin’s smile. Your alpha is over the moon, starry eyed for his pups while you watch him lovingly.

The kingdom accepts Jaemin’s reign with open arms, delighted that they can lay food on their family’s tables without worry. Your mother even accepts his ruling, finally taking her spot in the castle that Jaemin offered her months ago.

You find solace in baking in the palace kitchen, returning to the place that Minjun brought you to when you were just a pup. The people flock to the castle on Sundays, where you invite Minjun to eagerly hand out your beloved pastries.

Your fairytale life with your soulbonded alpha is perfect. You just didn’t quite expect he would want to expand your family so quickly after the twins are born.

“Jesus, alpha,” you whimper as Jaemin’s cock pummels into you. Your fingers grasp onto the armrests of the throne chair, arching your back for your alpha to fuck into you harder.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, and you’re grateful that Jaemin commanded everyone to leave the throne room before he staked his claim on you. Judging by the sizzle of the fire behind his lids, you would guess he’s verging on the edge of his first rut since you gave birth.

Giddy laughter bubbles up your throat when he nips at your shoulder playfully. “Does that feel good for you, omega?” He hums, circling your clit until the nub is sore from his ministrations. He buries his cock inside your tight cunt while you moan for him. “You love it when your alpha takes care of you, hm?”

You lay your head on the velvet seat of the throne, drunkenly smiling as he continues his sensual rhythm. Your tiara tumbles off your head and clatters to the ground, but the both of you don’t even flinch at the sound.

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant again. I never got to worship you when you were carrying the twins,” he sighs, and you remember those late nights when you would have to attempt to pleasure yourself. He rolls his hips until you feel the ecstasy thrumming in your veins. “I’m not letting that happen again, doll.”

“The twins are barely a month old,” you point out, but he shrugs mindlessly.

“Too long, if you ask me. This perfect pussy should be bred at all times, filled with my cum until it’s dripping out. There should never be a day where I’m not inside you, doll.”

He batters into your cervix until obscene moans echo through the air. The guards and your handmaidens outside can probably hear everything, but your dignity is the last thing on your mind.

He takes complete control over your body, tangling his hand through your hair and spitting over your face. You whine and present yourself as a good omega, letting him abuse your pussy until the throne room is loaded with the stench of your two bodies colliding together. No matter how many times you take him, it always feels like his goal is to split you in half with his length.

“My king, please,” you cry. He drills into you with long, languid strokes. “I can’t take it anymore-”

You scream when your climax hits you hard. Your thighs shake as your pussy gushes over his cock, spurting your juices onto the floor. Your cunt greedily clenches down around him, causing the final straw to break for Jaemin.

His teeth descend into your mating mark when he knots you, and you welcome the familiar fuzzy tenderness from your alpha holding you close.

“I love you, my queen.”

You giggle as he swipes away the spit coating your face so he can kiss you properly.

“I love you too, alpha. Now let’s move you to our bedroom before your rut really hits.”

He’s not the type to bring something up mid fuck session, but when you both finish, he takes the opportunity to address it.

“You seemed distant today,” he notes.

You release a deep sigh. “November is coming up, I’ve got three big tests and then finals in December, and I’m just… I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

The two of you had decided to keep a purely physical relationship with the idea of focusing on school. You both feel as if you’re too busy with your studies to put as much effort into dating as you’d like, so you’d come to an agreement to fuck whenever you’re both needing it, and keep other things as surface-level as possible.

Despite this arrangement, Jaehyun knows he would be the biggest asshole ever if he didn’t act as at least a friend to you. He has massive emotional walls that he keeps fortified, but there’s no harm in checking in with you. Besides, stress relief is a cornerstone of your relationship, and if his cock couldn’t dristract you from the issues in your life right now, maybe being an avid listener can. 

“What class?” he enquires.

“Fucking physics,” you groan, falling back against your bed and covering your face with a pillow.

There’s a reason Jaehyun had chosen Marine Biology instead of a more mathematics-based science when he got to university. Hell, the intro to physics class in first year had nearly killed him, so he understands where you’re coming from. 

“Well…” Jaehyun swallows thickly. “My frat is doing the whole ‘No Nut November’ bullshit, and we both know I don’t like to lose… but just because I can’t fuck you to destress you, doesn’t mean I can’t eat you out and make you cum as a reward for doing well in classes.”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

You stare at him, the cogs of your mind working clearly behind your inquisitive eyes. “What if we agree on an above eighty average instead of eighty-six?”

“Nah, has to be eighty-six, what kind of floozy do you think I am?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Uh… the kind that just dicked me down without me needing an eighty-six average?”

Two:

It’s November, and while the idea of using Jaehyun as encouragement to study had seemed like a good plan to begin with, you find yourself distracted by the notion of him. Numbers and calculations give way to thoughts about the frat boy studying marine biology, and after struggling with it for an hour, you give yourself a breather to unpack everything.

You and Jaehyun have had an on-again off-again fuck buddy relationship for a little over a year now, and in that period, you’ve fucked only a handful times. With Jaehyun, things are strictly business. There’s not much foreplay, not much chit-chatting- it’s entirely about you both getting your rocks off as stress relief, then going your separate ways.

There’s a part of you that’s always thought extensive foreplay is less of a fuck buddy type of deal, and more of a budding relationship experience, which is why it’s generally been off-limits.

Having a man’s dick in you is one thing, having his mouth on your pussy while he’s neglected, looking up at you and doing his best to make you cum without any pleasure for himself- well, that’s something else entirely.

Neither you nor Jaehyun like to be selfish in this arrangement you have, it’s always a mutually beneficial interaction.

But… if you let him eat you out for doing well in physics… if he doesn’t get to cum or be touched at all… then that’s you being selfish, and the flip side is, he’s being selfless with you. 

Selfless has never been a word you connect to the idea of fuck buddies- and sure, some men love eating out women, some men get super turned on from that, but… you worry you’ll just be blue-ballsing the poor man. 

You never want to blue-ball Jaehyun. Despite your relationship being surface level - except for when he’s buried in your guts - you care about him. And you think it’s this care that has made you put up walls.

You’d agreed when you’d met that neither of you wanted a relationship. You wanted easy sex when it was convenient to you both. No strings attached, no emotions, no foreplay- although, that last caveat was never something verbally agreed to or discussed, moreso of an offshoot of the entire arrangement. 

In an odd way, letting Jaehyun eat you out while he gets nothing in return will be a new stepping stone for your dynamic, and you’re not quite sure where the path it creates might lead. 

Three:

You open your door with a grin, holding your most recent test in your hand. Before you can even tell Jaehyun the good news about your eighty-six percent - on the dot, mind you - score, he’s grabbing you and pressing his lips to yours.

A laugh tumbles out of you as you drag him into your apartment, kissing him back eagerly while the door shuts.

He feels so good, and your body immediately reacts to him, your nipples pushing up against the fabric of your thin night shirt. Jaehyun notices, because his hand comes up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing against the bud and making you moan.

When his lips move to your throat, you take the opportunity to speak. “You don’t even know what score I got on my test.”

“You wouldn’t have called me over if you didn’t get an eighty-six or above,” he notes, breath hot against your neck as he licks at your sweet spot.

“What if I brought you here to beg, to plead for that eighty average to be acceptable?” you tease.

“Begging is really not your style,” he insists, his hands moving down to your sleeping shorts to roughly tug them down.

“Looks like I won’t have to beg for this, though.”

“A deal is a deal,” Jaehyun tells you in the most earnest tone, and it makes you giggle.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.”

“No, I’m eating you out here.”

A moment later, he’s lifting you, setting you onto your kitchen island. The cold surface feels good against your hot skin, and it’s hard to breathe properly as Jaehyun pushes your thighs open.

“Lay down,” he instructs, “and let me give you your reward.”

Four:

“So… This time, I got a ninety,” you tell Jaehyun, holding your phone close to your chest so he can hear you clearly as you meander around your apartment.

“Well, look at you go.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and it has your body tingling with excitement. “When can you come over?”

“Just finishing up a few things,” Jaehyun explains. “How about nineish?”

“But that’s a whole four hours away!” you groan.

“Somebody is eager.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I was sitting in class and taking the test and all I could think about was your mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Was getting so wet while doing fucking physics calculations- thinking about your tongue, and the way you hold me down when I cum. You’re a guy who just knows how to eat it, and it’s kind of making me go crazy.”

“Did I mention I’m at the gym right now?” Jaehyun asks, releasing a choked cough.

You grin, moving to sit on your couch. “Gonna sport a stiffy while doing bench presses, Jae?” 

“Pretty close to that, yeah.”

“All I’m saying is- you could be a great tutor, if you gave out sexual favours to all the cute girls who need help.”

Jaehyun laughs. “I feel like that would put me on a career trajectory that has nothing to do with marine biology, and I’m not spending all this money every year just to not use my degree.”

“True, true,” you sigh. “Anyways, I guess I’ll be waiting to see you at nineish.”

“Try not to touch yourself before I get there,” Jaehyun warns. “Or it defeats the purpose.” 

Five:

You’d been shocked to discover upon receiving your third test back, that you had somehow managed to score the highest in the entire class. And now, you’re even more shocked to find that Jaehyun has a few cunnilingus tricks up his sleeve that he hadn’t shown you in your first two strictly oral encounters.

His face is buried between your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit while his fingers are pumping into your wet core. He angles his digits upward, crooking them in a way that has your whole body tingling-

He’d told you he wanted to make you squirt, you know, as a real celebration after your high marks, and at first, you hadn’t quite believed it would happen.

You’ve never squirted, and no man has ever taken the time to work that sort of thing out of you-

Yet here you are, feeling the first few dribbles splooshing out of your core and onto Jaehyun’s fingers.

It’s an intense pressure, but a completely welcomed one, and it makes your entire body tense with pleasure as he continued to finger fuck wetness out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit.

The sounds you’re making are obscene, but you can’t help yourself, can’t bring yourself to care about noise complaints or people hearing you-

You deserve this after scoring so well on your physics test, and you’ll be damned if you tell Jaehyun to stop or slow down.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans, pulling away from your clit to look down at you. “That’s it, baby, let it out.”

God, his dirty talk? It’s gotten better- or maybe you were both just not very verbal before, maybe when things were strictly business you were both holding back a lot of talents in the sexual scheme of things.

You release a whimper, more squirt gushing out of you and onto his hand.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Jaehyun tells you, his mouth returning to your clit.

The past few times, losing yourself to him eating you out had been easy- but this time, you’re aware that finals are looming on the horizon. You’re not going to see Jaehyun for a couple of weeks, and after pleasure like this, you’re not sure you have the patience to wait that long.

You’re also keenly aware that this will be the third time Jaehyun leaves your house with blue-balls, and while he doesn’t make a big deal about it, you still feel bad.

This whole thing has definitely gotten more complicated, and you have the sneaking suspicion that when finals are over, and you finally get to fuck- they’re going to get a whole lot more confusing.

Six:

Jaehyun is about four hours into studying for his marine biology final when your ringtone sounds through his room.

He releases a groan, because sure, you’re a welcome distraction- but the mere thought of you is enough to give him a half chub and about two hours of distracted thoughts.

“Hey,” he sighs, answering his phone and putting it on speaker next to his text book.

“Hey,” you respond. “Studying?”

“Yup, you?”

“Trying to study,” you release a deep breath. “So… No Nut November has been over for a couple of days, how are you feeling?”

Jaehyun groans, putting his head in his hands. “Like I’m about to bust.”

“So come over?”

Jaehyun’s gaze turns to his phone. The temptation is overwhelming- and he can almost imagine how good your wet pussy is going to feel around his cock- how big his load is going to be when he buries it deep inside of you-

“We both know I can’t do that,” he sighs.

“Why not?”

“I told you, I’m not a floozy.” Jaehyun can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at his own words. He kind of enjoys this whole teasing game of not being the guy who puts out unless you do well on tests. He also kind of enjoys it when you release an irritated sigh.

“Be serious,” you insist.

“In all seriousness,” Jaehyun says. “We both know we can’t see each other until after our finals in three days.”

“But three days is so long away! That’s like seventy-two hours from now!” 

“You’re not going to be awake for all seventy-two of those hours though,” Jaehyun grins.

A grumble escapes you. “You know what I mean.”

Jaehyun can feel his cock beginning to rise in his pants, and he knows he has to cut this call short-

“Well, if you’re not going to come be my stress relief, maybe I’ll have to do it myself,” you tell him.

“Huh?”

“I’m rubbing my clit right now, and you wouldn’t believe how fucking wet I am for you. Been thinking about you for hours.”

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans.

“It would be an awful shame if you didn’t come and fuck me stupid.” 

“I’ve got to go,” the marine biology major says, and it takes every ounce of his determination for the words to leave his lips.

“For a frat boy, you can be such a prude, Jaehyun.”

“I’m just focusing on something we both agreed a year ago. We both said school comes first. We both said grades above sex, and I’m just keeping us both in line with that intention.”

“I’ll try not to be too upset about this, because you’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” you sigh. “Good luck studying, I’ll see you in seventy-two hours.”

You hang up, and Jaehyun lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

He looks down at his rock hard cock, which is pressing up against the fabric of his sweat pants, and with one last surge of determination, he goes back to his text book. 

Seven:

You finished your final two hours ago, and you’re now just laying on your couch. Your mind is pretty much blank, your body exhausted- and that’s when there’s a knock on your door.

You release a groan, forcing yourself to your feet.

While you know you’re going to see Jaehyun sometime soon, you definitely don’t expect him to be on your doorstep, and you’re at a loss for words as you stare at him.

“How bad was your final, baby, you’ve got a whole ‘thousand yard stare’ going on,” Jaehyun grins.

“You’re here,” you force out, so shocked that you still don’t know what to say.

“I’m here, and even though your final is done, it looks like you need stress relief.”

A tingle rushes through you, and you nod eagerly, pushing your door open wider so he can enter your apartment.

“How- how was your final?” you ask.

“Wasn’t so bad,” he shrugs, “And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying marine biology is easy, but it’s not physics.” 

“Jae?”

“Uh huh?”

“I’m so exhausted.” The words come out of your mouth and you break a little, your shoulders slumping. “I won’t have results for a couple of weeks and I don’t know if I did well, and I know you have this whole, ‘I’m not a floozy’ running joke thing-”

“Baby, I’m here to fuck you, don’t worry about getting an eighty-six percent, I’m taking care of you right now even if you failed. Do you think you failed?”

“I don’t think so-”

“And you were highest in your whole class on the last test, so let out a breath, shake off the anxiety, and for the first time in two months, let’s just enjoy fucking, okay?”

“Okay.”

You let Jaehyun grab your hand and he leads you to your bedroom. Once there, he begins to kiss you. He cradles you against his chest, and it’s the most passionate lip lock you’ve ever shared with the marine biology major.

His hands stroke your body, and it’s not some quick tearing off of clothes- no, this time, it’s clear he wants to go slow. 

You stroke his muscles, massaging his shoulders through the heavy fabric of his hoodie. The motion makes Jaehyun groan, and he removes the layer, tossing it onto the floor before wrapping you in his arms again.

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, and he slowly guides you to your bed. He lays you down before getting on top of you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, and you groan at the first amount of pressure on your sleeping short covered core.

The kiss deepens, but it’s not the kind of erratic and eager lip lock, it’s calculated, passionate, and in a way- loving.

Jaehyun cares about you, of that, you are certain. He cares enough to make this experience an act of worship, of self care, to balance out the absolute shit show that was your physics final, and you really appreciate the attention to detail that he’s putting into this.

His hand slips under your shirt, toying with your breast.

You’d been planning on having a nap, so you’re only wearing a shirt and shorts, no underwear or bra, and the sensation of his fingers playing with your nipple is the most relief you’ve had in a week.

You whimper, breaking the kiss to wiggle under him, hoping for more pressure on your pussy.

Jaehyun’s lips move to your throat. “Proud of you,” he whispers. “I’m sure you did well today.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you can do is moan in response, your brain too fried from your exam to think of words.

“Gonna get you naked,” Jaehyun tells you next. “You good with that?”

“Yes, please.”

Jaehyun pulls away, adjusting so he can slip your shorts off. You work on your shirt, and in moments, you’re naked for him. Then, Jaehyun begins to strip, joining you in nudity before getting onto the bed again.

His lips find yours, and his hand slips between your thighs. His fingers tease your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

If this was Jaehyun from three months ago, his cock would already be inside of you, and you’re reminded again that a November full of foreplay has changed your relationship. He’s more caring with you now, and you kind of love it, especially after the day you’ve had.

His digits slip into your pussy, working you open, and his palm continues to put the right amount of pressure on your clit.

His mouth moves to your throat, giving you space to moan and fill the room with sounds of pleasure.

He begins to do the motion he did when he made you squirt, and soon, that pressure in your abdomen is reaching a breaking point. You can feel the small gush as it wets your inner thighs, pleasure consuming you with the release.

Jaehyun descends to your breasts, sucking on your nipple gently before continuing to kiss down- he gets all the way to your pussy, and he pulls out his fingers in favour of licking your slit.

You whimper desperately as he takes position between your thighs, hands massaging the muscles there and keeping you pinned as he eats you out.

When you look down, you notice his eyes are closed. He’s fully immersed in the act of pleasuring you, and it makes everything feel better.

You give in to the sensation, mind going blank, body going numb except for the feeling of intense pressure that’s beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

His lips suction around your clit, tongue flicking the sensitive bud, and your own hips begin to wiggle. You’re grinding down against his face, breathing hard as your orgasm becomes closer and closer-

There’s a difference between squirting and a clit orgasm, and while squirting had felt really good, this is about to feel even better.

You try not to put pressure on yourself, and that’s something you’ve learned this past month with Jaehyun.

He could stay between your thighs for half an hour and not get upset that you haven’t cum yet- however, you know it won’t take that long.

You give in to the feelings in your body, focusing on the pleasure as it builds and builds-

“Jae,” you whimper. “I’m close!”

He growls against your clit, sucking even harder, and that’s when you explode.

You release a gasp, the tension in your abdomen snapping as your clit begins to throb, sending delicious pleasure surging through your entire form.

Your thighs threaten to close around Jaehyun’s head but he holds you steady, working you through your orgasm.

The feeling of his tongue on your core isn’t one you ever want to give up, and Jaehyun’s the type of man who doesn’t like to lose- no, he continues to eat you out until you’re finished, until you’re pushing at his head, begging for his cock.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper. “I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, baby,” he nods, swallowing thickly as he adjusts on the bed, getting between your thighs again.

He looks down at you as he positions the head of his cock against your pussy. 

There’s a wordless agreement between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Jaehyun slowly pushes into you.

You gasp loudly at the stretch, grabbing at his shoulders to steady yourself.

Nothing but fingers have been inside of you for a month, and the stretch is perfect as Jaehyun’s large cock fills up your core.

“Good?” Jaehyun asks with a grin.

“So good!”

His lips find your throat, and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you grip his shoulders even tighter.

Nothing has ever felt this intimate. You’re clinging to Jaehyun like a life line, your hearts trying to push through your pressed ribcages to meet, as if they were always meant to be one.

There are a thousand emotions bubbling up inside of you, but none of them can be vocalized, all you can do is pant in his ear as he lavishes on you, taking away all your stress. 

He begins to fuck you, starting slow as your body adjusts. You can hear him groaning as he licks your sweet spot, the muscles of his shoulders tensing with effort as he holds himself over you.

You get the sneaking suspicion that he’s very much holding back- that this slow build up is torture for the man who hasn’t gotten his cock wet in over a month.

“Let go, Jae,” you whisper, stroking his hair. “Fuck me stupid, you promised you would.”

Jaehyun releases a groan, pulling away from your throat to look down at you. “After all of this, we need to talk.”

“Huh?” your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s nothing bad,” he’s quick to assure you, obviously having read your scared expression. “Just, fuck- look, I’ve been thinking- this month has proven we can get good marks and also be fucking, be more than fucking- and I just- I was thinking maybe we could try actually dating, if you wanted.” 

“Jae-” your voice cracks.

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Let’s do it,” you nod. “I want to try that with you.”

“Thank god.” You can practically see the relief in the way he exhales, and then he presses his lips to yours, beginning to fuck you even harder.

You wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he rails you. Your whole bed is shaking with each powerful thrust, and the pleasure of his cock inside of you mixes with the emotional ecstasy that had been triggered by the notion of dating.

You seriously feel like you’re on cloud nine, and it’s such a massive contrast to how you’d felt even an hour ago.

This man can change your entire mood, and you kind of love that. All your stress has melted away, because of his targeted effort to lift you back onto your feet after such a devastating final exam. 

He cares about you, you can feel it in the way his hips move, the way his lips caress your own. You can even hear it in his deep groans, all his inhibitions going out the window as he gives himself to you completely.

There’s also something to be said about fucking missionary.

When you’d first had sex, you’d done it doggy, not wanting to be staring at each other, not wanting to feel too emotionally connected as you looked into each other’s eyes-

So much has changed in the best possible way, the two of you pressed chest to chest, pressed so tight it’s as if you want to consume each other.

You’re connected, like puzzle pieces, and each thrust has Jaehyun hitting a spot deep inside of you that makes you feel so completely whole.

You’re both gasping into your kisses now, the tension rising by the second-

“Fuck, I haven’t cum in so long-” Jaehyun groans, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours.

“Then fill me up, Jae,” you whimper, stroking his hair and strong shoulders. “Give me all of it.”

“Fuck.”  

“I want this,” you tell him. “I want you so bad.”

He lets out a shuddery breath, and then he kisses you, grunting deeply- the last three thrusts are powerful yet erratic, and his entire body shivers as he falls over the edge. You can feel him filling you up, shooting rope upon rope of cum deep into your core.

Your legs wrap tightly around his hips, keeping him buried to the hilt inside of you, and you press kisses along his face, stroking his hair.

His orgasm lasts five or so seconds, and you can tell from the tension in his muscles that it’s an intense one. He all but slumps over you when he finishes, breathing hard against your skin as he buries his face by your throat.

“Fuck.”

“You can say that again,” you laugh. 

Usually, when Jaehyun and you finish up having sex, he immediately goes home and you go to shower, but today, you hold him close, keeping him wrapped in your embrace.

Neither of you say anything as you wait for your hearts to slow down, and you continue to press little kisses along his skin.

“How about we shower then cuddle and watch a movie?” you ask.

“Baby,” Jaehyun releases a small chuckle, “I would love that more than anything.”

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🔮 preview. “This is how you inspired me to study when we first started dating,” you point out. “Encourage yourself with pussy. Get some good sucking now, fuck me stupid, and then, use that as fuel to get your studying done.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, masturbation, use of toy/vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, sucking Jae off while he studies, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, rough sex,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 110

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

You can tell that Jaehyun is struggling. His end of the year final is coming up, and he’s as anxious as you’ve ever seen him. 

You’ve done your best to support him with studying, but after everything you’ve learned at the start of your relationship last year, you think you might just know the best way to help him focus.

“Jae?” you call, looking at your boyfriend as he studies at the table by your bed. “How’s it coming along?”

He releases a deep sigh. “Not great.”

You approach him, resting against the table. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Probably not,” he groans.

“Are you sure about that?”

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"last cabin," sunoo said as he turned the key into the door with a click. "are you going to whatever ten is inviting us to?" you asked from your seat on the steps of the cabin. he walked down and sat next to you, "are you?" you nodded, "nothing better to do." "we can walk to the pier together then," sunoo stood up, extending his hand out to help you up. sunoo walked behind you as you went up to yena and belle. "i think everyone is here. well minus one person," yena extended the joint in her hand to you and you happily took it. you took a long hit, "im so surprised." the sarcasm dripped off your words as they came out, making the 3 laugh.

you watched as some of your coworkers peeled off their clothes, jumping into the water. some had their bathing suits on underneath while others opted for more of a freeing option. you pulled the green camp shirt over your head to reveal the white lacy bra you were wearing. "nice tits," yena joked. "it's too hot and ive known everyone here for too long to be embarrassed," you took another hit of the joint. "what are you all doing?" the voice of anton seemed to echo even though everyone had been talking. everyone turned to look at him and then to ten. "just some team bonding," ten had always been quick on his feet when it came to being caught. anton obviously didn't look convinced, "then why are people skinny dipping." "so that the lord can see his people in the way he made them," you almost let out a laugh at ten's explanation. "and the drinking and smoking?" anton crossed his arms. "i guess some people had turned to sin and temptation and would like to show god their faults so he could forgive," ten shrugged his shoulders.

you knew anton didn't believe him; he was a lot smarter than that. his eyes flickered over to you for just a second scanning your semi nude chest and then back to your face. his attention was turned back to ten quick as if he never looked at you. "i'll let you guys get away with this once. next time i wont hesitate to tell my father," with those final words anton spun on his heel and walked back to the counselor cabin. "do you think he ever gets tired of having that stick up his ass," sunoo said, making your small group of friends laugh. "he thinks hes draco malfoy threatening us with telling his dad," yena spoke as she took the joint from between your fingers.

anton kept his word because the next morning the pastor wished you all a good morning with no reprimanding. "god this sucks," belle rubbed her eyes as she walked into the cafeteria that had been set up with lines of chairs instead of the usual tables. she took a seat next to you as more people filed in and took their seats. "you're really gonna use the word god to say morning service sucks," you nudged her shoulder. morning service was something that happened every other day at exactly 7:00am, however the counselors were mandated to be there at 6:30am.

"dont look now," belle mumbled as she leaned back in her chair. you turned your head slightly to see anton walking towards the row of chairs diagonal to yours. the two of you locked eyes as he glanced over but quickly took his eyes off of you. you rolled your eyes as you brought your attention back to the front. throughout the service you caught anton stealing glances at you, making you mentally question what issue he had. your perfect opportunity to strike was given to you as you watched him stand up and walk out towards the end. you stood up, your friends giving you a questioning look as you excused yourself and followed anton out. you stayed a good distance away from him as you followed him towards the cabins.

"whats your issue?" you confronted him as soon as the cabin door shut. "huh?" he jumped a little, not noticing you followed him. "your issue. you keep staring me down. why?" you pressed further, walking closer to him. "i-i have no issue with you," his face got red as you got closer and closer. he stood there not moving, "i wasnt looking at you either." "lying is a sin you know," you stared him down. anton found himself subconsciously leaning in towards you until his lips met yours. you stood frozen before he quickly pulled away. "im sorry. i-i i should get back before my dad realizes im gone," anton tried to scrabble past you but you grabbed his arm. you tugged him towards you and pulled him in for another kiss. you held the back of his head as his hands traveled down to your waist. you smiled as you pulled away, "i should go back before your dad notices im gone." you giggled as you used his words against him, turning around and leaving the stuffy cabin. "where'd you go and why are your lips swollen," sunoo whispered into your ear as you settled back into the metal chair. "dont worry about it. i'll tell you tonight."

"you did what?" yena yelled as you all sat on your bunk. it was late in the night, meaning most the other counselors were at the lake or off smoking weed somewhere. "anton? with anton?" sunoo had his hand over his mouth as he processed the information you just told them. "was he a good kisser?" belle asked. you smiled wider as you nodded and another gasp overtook the cabin. before anyone could say anything else, there was a soft knock on the wooden door.

"what if its jason voorhees," you heard sunoo say as you stood up to go to the door. "shut up," belle responded, hitting his arm. you cautiously opened the door and the only scary figure revealed was anton. "this is somehow worse," yena intended it to be a whisper but it came out louder than intended.

"can we talk," antons eyes were glued to the ground as he kicked the dirt under his feet. you turned around to face your 3 friends, "every one out now." "oh what the fuck," they complained but stood up, walking out as anton moved to the side to give them room. you moved aside, allowing anton to walk into the now empty cabin and shut the door behind him. "so what did you want to-" before you could finish your sentence anton's lips were on yours. the two of you slowly moved back, lips never leaving each other, until you tripped back. you pulled anton on top of you and let him trail his lips down to your neck.

"fuck i thought you were waiting until marriage or some bullshit," you groaned as he bit down on one part of your neck, sucking on the spot. you could feel his hard-on against your thighs as he mindlessly rubbed himself against you. "shut up," he mumbled into the skin of your neck. you laughed, reaching a hand to squish his cheeks and pull him back up for a quick kiss. "make me," your sly grin lit something in anton. he swatted your hands away from his face and pulled off your shirt. his eyes never tore away from your tits as he fumbled with the back of your bra. "wow and i was starting to believe you weren't a virgin," you reached behind and undid the clasps for him, throwing the bra into a random corner of the room.

he ignored your jab and locked his lips onto your right nipple, sucking the bulb and flicking it with his tongue. his fingers ghosted over your stomach and down to the waistband of your pants. you lifted your hips up so he had the room to slide your shorts and panties down in one go. his fingers went down to your soaked entrance. "so much talk for someone this wet," anton started kissing downwards until he was face to face with your pussy. he left open mouth kisses on your thighs as your fingers tangled into his hair. you tried to push him closer but he didn't budge. "patience," he hummed before diving in. your back arched and you didnt bother to muffle the moans that escaped your mouth as anton sucked on your folds, nose bumping into the bundle of nerves as he ate you out. the only thing that coursed through your brain was 'how the fuck is he a virgin? there was no way in christ.'

anton loved the way his name slipped from your lips as if it was the only thing you knew. "close," he heard you stutter out. he slid his tongue into you, essentially tongue fucking you. that seemed to be the thing to push you over since anton felt the gush of wet on his face. anton licked his lips before going back up to you, kneeling over you. you pulled him down by the neck into another makeout session, your tongue pushing through his swollen lips. you palmed at his bulge, feeling the small wet spot from when he was grinding against the bed. you pulled away from the kiss to tug his shirt off- and holy shit you didnt expect him to he this buff. he let out a chuckle as you gawked at his abs, "all i do is lift heavy statues all day in the church. what did you expect?" you didnt speak as you climbed off the bed and dropped to your knees. anton was quick to sit on the edge of the bed. you slid off his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring up. the tip was already an angry red with precum leaking off of it.

you spit into your hand, giving it a few pumps before letting your lips engulf his tip. anton threw his hand back. his hands set behind him in order to hold himself up. you let out small gagging noises as you took him further and further into your mouth to where he hit the back of your throat. he let out loud whines and moans as you bobbed your head. with every hit to the back of your throat, you let out a mix of a moan and a gag. the sensation stimulating anton more and bringing him closer and closer. you knees were beginning to grow sore and you could feel them bruising as you pulled off him with a pop. the wetness of your saliva giving you enough wetness to guide your hand up and down his length. anton watched down as his dick twitched in your hold and you moved faster. strings of white spat on your face and down to your chest as you continued to milk anton of whatever he had. anton smiled as he let his hand fall to cup your face and run his thumb across your cheek. "pretty girl. if only god could see you on your knees right now." he could feel himself getting hard again as you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

"come," anton moved back a little, pulling you to your feet and letting you sit yourself on his lap. you grinded against him and he threw his head back. you took the opportunity to latch your lips to his neck, leaving marks that you were sure would show under the camp t-shirt and have the pastor questioning the fathfullness of his son. you stood on your knees, taking his cock in your hold and lining it up with yourself. "ready?" you locked eyes with him and he nodded. "lord please." you sunk down onto him and both of you let out your own loud moans. you began to rise up and fall down, using antons broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. your brows furrowed in concentration as you tried your best to ride him with the aching in your knees. anton could notice your discomfort through the wobbliness of you knees and your pace slowly slowing down.

"can i help?" anton grabbed your waist for you to stop. you nodded, letting out a gasp as he turned you over and onto your back on the bed. he put your leg over his shoulder as he thrusted into you with a fast pace. the bed shook back and forth as he pounded into you, consistently hitting the spot that had your back arching and toes curling. anton leaned down and captured your lips as he felt you flutter around him. he let his thumb rub at your clit, bringing you closer and closer. a white ring soon formed around the base of anton's dick as he continued to chase his own high. "pull out?" anton pulled away from the kiss to ask. you shook your head frantically, "inside please please." you begged. that sent him over the edge because with one final thrust inside, he let himself come undone.

profiles one | profiles two

intro

chapter one - i promise

chapter two - parties and poems written

chapter three - missing soju

chapter four - coming soon

“Hi,” he grins, stepping next to you in the small space. “Moving in?”

You’re so distracted by the way his biceps look in his muscle shirt that it takes you a moment to speak. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Johnny,” he tells you.

“y/n.” The box in your hands is beginning to slip from the sweat on your palms, and you haphazardly readjust it on your hip.

“This might be a little forward,” Johnny chuckles, “but do you need any help?”

“Uh…” You turn once again to look up at this absolute tower of a man. “I’m almost done moving everything-”

“Let me guess, boxes done, just some furniture stuff left?”

You feel your skin flush with heat. “Is it that obvious that I’m struggling right now?” An awkward laugh escapes your lips, and you’re happy to find Johnny return the sound with a soft, understanding smile.

“Usually when cute girls move somewhere, they have a boyfriend, a brother, a dad, a friend- someone to help them do the tough stuff, and since you’re alone, I’m guessing you’re troopering this whole thing out all by yourself.”

“New city,” you explain. “I don’t uh- don’t know anyone here just yet, and my family didn’t want to take time off work to help with any of this.”

“Lucky you bumped into me then,” Johnny grins. “I just finished up at the gym, but I’ve got energy to help a new neighbour.”

The elevator dings to signal you’ve made it to your floor, and Johnny follows you out.

“You’re the new tenant for 304?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, stopping in front of the unit you now call home.

“We really are neighbours,” Johnny laughs. “I’m 306.”

“Look it was nice to meet you,” you say, “but you really don’t need to help, I’m sure I can manage my bed and a few other things-”

“y/n,” Johnny interrupts you, “I promise I’m not some creep, just a good neighbour offering help. You look tired, let me help you.”

Your pride makes it difficult to accept this sort of thing, but you swallow it, offering Johnny a nod. 

And that’s how you find yourself moving your bed and the last bit of furniture into your new apartment with one of the sexiest guys you’ve ever seen. He’s quite the charmer, and he’s reassuring too- calming you down when things are a little heavy, and slowing his own pace to match your exhaustion.

In no time at all, everything is out of the moving truck, and Johnny leans in your doorway as he watches you slump into a chair. 

“Do you want help making your bedframe or anything?” he enquires.

“Honestly? I think I’m going to call it a day,” you admit. “The drive here was long, I’ve been up since five AM, didn’t sleep well last night due to nerves-”

“Sounds like you should get some rest,” Johnny nods.

“I really appreciate your help though,” you offer. “I’ll uh, have to buy you beers or something.”

Johnny only laughs. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I work on a rig, so I’m only here a week or so every month, you caught me at a good time.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the disappointment that surges through you. Of course this man was too hot to be true- of course he has a job that requires him to be away for long periods or he’d probably have an equally hot girlfriend already.

“But… let me give you my number, and if you ever need anything while I am here, you can just give me a shout.” 

The two of you exchange digits, and with one final smile, Johnny leaves you be. 

You lay on your bed for a while, trying to calm down- from the moving, or from being around a ten out of ten, you’re not sure. 

Two:

It’s your first time doing laundry in the new building, and to your disappointment, you find the shared laundry room to have no available machines.

A sigh escapes you as you stand there momentarily, wondering if you should wait five minutes for a turn over, or just scratch this whole idea and hope there are empty machines tomorrow.

As you’re considering your options, the laundry room door opens, and a tall blonde enters.

“Hi,” he beams.

“Hello.” You watch him carefully, noticing that he heads to a machine to take out his clothes from the washer. “Uh- do you mind if I put my stuff in there once it’s empty?”

“Of course not,” he smiles. “With only six machines for the whole building, it can be a bit rough trying to nab one on busy days.”

“I’ve noticed,” you laugh. “I’m new here, my name is y/n.”

“I’m Jungwoo,” he tells you, moving his clothing into the only empty dryer. He turns on the machine and then steps back, looking over at you again. “So are you new to the building or new to the city?”

“The city,” you admit, beginning to move your stuff into the now empty washer.

“You have that look.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just- a lot of people here are boring, we’re not exactly known for fashion or anything like that-”

You look down at the Stitch onesie you’re wearing that you’d bought for Halloween a few years back but has since become a comfort outfit, then back up at the blonde.

“I just like your style!” he insists. “Not everyone can rock blue pajamas!”

You find yourself laughing at his sincerity, shaking your head as you grab your washer fluid to get the machine going.

“Anyways,” Jungwoo sighs. “Did you move here for work?”

“I actually work online,” you tell him. “I can work from anywhere, and I figured this would be a nice place to get out of the big city for a while- cheaper rent, more nature, that sort of thing.”

“Makes sense,” Jungwoo nods. “I’m a server at a bar just down the road.”

You take a moment, then laugh. “You seem like a server.”

“Because I’m so cute and social?” he grins.

“Definitely,” you nod, enjoying his energy.

“Anyways, I love making friends, and since you’re new to the city, I’m guessing you haven’t met a lot of people yet. If you want to be friends, I’d love to add you to my gossip roster.”

“Your gossip roster?”

“I’m a server, which means I love all things tea- except for when grandmas order actual tea in the middle of a rush, that’s the worst.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” you grin.

“So… friends?” Jungwoo asks.

You nod. “We can be friends.”

Three:

It’s been three weeks since you moved into your new apartment, and in that time, you’ve gotten settled, and even visited Jungwoo at his bar. He’s an interesting friend, and he seems to know everything about everyone.

At first, you’d been worried about any ulterior motives he might have, as you’ve experienced many men try to make a move on you under the guise of just wanting to be your friend. But now, you realize Jungwoo’s intentions towards you are pure- or, as pure as they can be given how much gossip he consumes.

You get the sense that you’re not his type, and that’s a hundred percent okay with you, in fact, it’s a dynamic that makes you finally feel comfortable accepting an invitation to visit his apartment.

It seems all the attractive men in your building live on your floor, and as you enter his unit, you find yet another cute man standing in the kitchen.

“This is Mark,” Jungwoo introduces you. “Mark, this is y/n. Don’t worry, Lee, I’ve told her everything about you.”

“Oh, great,” Mark sighs.

It’s true, Jungwoo has divulged way too deep into his roommate’s history. You know that he’s a content creator and chef, he used to work in a prestigious restaurant, went on one of those reality cooking shows, managed to be the runner up for the first place prize despite his awkward nature, and has now been commissioned to write a cookbook focused solely on burgers (which Jungwoo has assured you is actually a broad topic despite what you might think).

You also know that Mark has a limited dating history, with a high school sweetheart who left him right before his stint on live tv, and a new crush on some barista that he’s too shy to even talk to despite the fact that he goes to her coffee shop every day just to order frothed milk with vanilla since caffeine doesn’t agree with him.

“So what’s on the menu tonight, chef?” Jungwoo asks, coming to stand right behind Mark in the kitchen.

From the way Mark clears his throat and steps back, it’s obvious to you that he’s not as comfortable about being close to people as Jungwoo is, and you find yourself enjoying this roommate dynamic already.

“I’m actually testing some stupid protein burger for muscle heads,” Mark admits.

“Aren’t burgers already high in protein since they’re meat?” you ask.

“Yes, and no,” Mark groans, “it depends. I want to have a few vegetarian and even vegan options in the cookbook I’m writing on burgers- and lots of people want high protein even in their plant based meals.” 

“So… what are your options for this burger you’re trying to create?” you enquire. 

“I’ve tried some black bean patties, chickpea patties, that sort of thing- but I’m considering making an entire two page fold dedicated to dredges and batters that you could use on a variety of burgers, meat or vegetarian. I got everything to make a protein powder infused batter, but I’m just now realizing that the protein powder I have on hand is chocolate flavoured, which really won’t work if I put it on anything, let alone a tofu burger.”

“Call Jae,” Jungwoo says simply. “That man has a collection of protein powder that would make a man on steroids combust.”

“Maybe I should just run to the store,” Mark sighs.

“You only need a small scoop of powder, right?” Jungwoo counters. “Why would you go buy an entire plain jug of protein powder when a protein head lives next door?”

“I’d hate to bother him,” the chef groans again, and you find yourself starting to realize the true depth of his social anxiety. 

“I’ll call Jaehyun,” Jungwoo states, pulling out his phone.

You take a seat at the island counter while Jungwoo makes a deal for some powder with this ‘Jae’ person, and you watch Mark fuss over other ingredients that he adds to a dry mixing bowl.

There’s a knock at the door, and then a man peaks his head inside of the apartment.

Your eyes lock and the wind is knocked from your lungs- is every hot man in the city living in your building?

“Jae!” Jungwoo yells, “come in!”

The man steps into the apartment, offering a smile, and the dimples in his cheeks practically blind you. There’s no way around it, this man looks like a model. He’s handsome, but there’s a slightly feminine softness to the angles of his face, a warmth in his eyes, and it’s absolutely captivating.

“Am I interrupting?” Jae asks as he approaches the kitchen, his eyes continuously meeting your own.

“Not at all, Mark’s just floundering as usual, and I’m hanging out with my new friend. y/n, this is Jaehyun, Jaehyun, this is y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile.

“You too.” Jaehyun sets a tub of protein powder onto the kitchen counter next to Mark, then he turns his full attention to you again. “So how did you meet Jungwoo?”

“In the laundry room,” Jungwoo is quick to explain, and you don’t miss the exchange of glances between Jaehyun and your friend. “She’s new to the building.” Jungwoo practically winks at Jaehyun, and you get the suspicion that he’s trying to set you up with this model looking protein man.

“I love meeting new neighbours,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “What floor are you on?”

“This one, room 304.”

“No way.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “That’s right across from mine!”

“You’re 305?” you ask, heart beating faster in your chest.

“In the flesh,” Jaehyun grins.

“Can we move the talking somewhere else?” Mark asks quietly. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The energy fizzles immediately, and Jaehyun nods. “I was actually just heading to the gym.”

“Of course you were,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes.

“But uh, I’ll see you around,” Jaehyun says, looking at you directly. “Welcome to the building.” 

Four:

You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when meeting cute men in your apartment building anymore, but you still find your breath leaving your body when you’re bringing groceries up from the parking garage only for a very cute man to enter the elevator.

He steps in and flashes you a smirk, then looks at the floor buttons. “You’re headed to three?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you new?”

“Been here about a month.”

“Huh,” the man looks stumped for a moment. “I feel like I would have seen you. I’m Hyuck by the way.”

“y/n.”

Hyuck nods. “Are you liking the building?”

“It’s nice,” you muse, too tired from your day at the grocery store to make much smalltalk. 

“You must be… unit 304? I’m a couple of doors down, near the corner. I know someone moved out, and I heard from the building manager that someone was moving in, but fuck, I can’t believe I haven’t met you yet.”

“I can be kind of reclusive,” you joke. “I mean, I work from home.”

“Ahhh, you’re one of those girls.” Hyuck grins at you knowingly and your heart leaps into your throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just, you know, sometimes the cutest girls are the ones that stay in their house all day.”

“Oh.” You’re really not sure how to respond to his statement, and your eyes shift down to the floor as the elevator comes to a stop.

The two of you both turn to the left, and Hyuck walks in step with you to your door, where he stops. “What’s that?”

You’re confused for a moment, too busy fumbling with your keys, but when you look up, you realize there’s a sticky note on your door. 

“Looks like you already have an admirer,” Hyuck grins. “Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime,” he reads. “Who do you think left this?”

You’re pretty sure it was Jaehyun who left the note- after all, the only other people you know are Jungwoo and Johnny, who both have your number, and you doubt Mark Lee of all people would be this forward. 

“I uh-” you stutter a little, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure.”

“So are you single, or…?”

“Definitely single,” you blurt out, pushing your key into the door and clicking it unlocked.

“Definitely single,” Hyuck repeats as you push into your apartment, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Five:

You’re finishing up after dinner when your phone makes a beeping sound, and you quickly pick it up, surprised to see a message from Johnny.

‘Looks like you’ve got some secret admirers, 304.’

Your stomach drops, and you realize that in your haste to enter your apartment after finding Jaehyun’s note with Hyuck earlier, you hadn’t actually removed it from your door- but wait, admirers? As in… plural? 

Tripping over yourself to get to the door, you throw it open to find not one sticky note, but two.

While Jaehyun’s initial ‘Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime’ is still there, someone has taken the liberty to put a second note on top of it, and this one reads; ‘I’m more fun, let’s have drinks.’

It’s clear who the second note is from, and you’re quick to rip both off of your door. 

Jaehyun and Hyuck are both quite forward, and your heart is racing as you go sit on your couch, feeling conflicted.

You pull out your phone again, releasing a deep sigh as you write up a text to Johnny. ‘This apartment building is so weird.’

‘Boys will be boys,’ comes his quick response. 

Taking another breath to calm yourself, you look at the texts, and that’s when you realize, ‘I didn’t know you were back from the rigs.’ 

‘Got back a couple of days ago :)’ 

Tapping your fingers against your couch, you try to figure out how you should play this.

You’re most attracted to Johnny, but now that Jaehyun and Hyuck are so clearly demonstrating their blooming affection for you - out in the open where everyone on your floor can see - you wonder if that might throw a wrench at Johnny’s own feelings for you…

Does Johnny like you?

When he’d helped you move your things, was that just him genuinely being nice? 

You feel absolutely twisted, especially since you’ve never considered yourself the type of girl to entertain a long distance relationship…

‘So… you’re in town for a few more days?’

‘three!’ 

You definitely need to sort out your priorities. 

Six:

You’re in need of a drink as you walk into Jungwoo’s work, taking a seat at the bar and releasing a deep sigh.

“For a girl who came to happy hour, you don’t look too happy,” Jungwoo muses as he moves to stand in front of you.

“Is it that obvious?” you laugh.

“I mean… you’re the hot new girl in 304 who has two guys fighting over you in sticky notes, I’d expect you to be a little more up beat.” 

“You saw that?” you ask in shock.

“Everyone saw it. Whoever left those notes weren’t exactly subtle… who did leave those notes, by the way?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s need for gossip. “You know one of them at least.”

“Jae, I’m guessing,” Jungwoo nods. “He asked me for your number but since I’m your friend I’m not just out here handing around your personal information.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And guy number two?” he enquires.

“Some dude named Hyuck.”

An interesting expression immediately appears on Jungwoo’s face. It’s something between an ‘oooooh!’ and an ‘ooop!’ and you can’t quite place the emotion.

“What?” you ask, leaning forward. “You know him?”

“Everyone knows Hyuck.”

“They do?”

“Let’s just say…” Jungwoo’s voice lowers as he leans over the bar, “he’s a provider of things that a lot of people like to get their hands on.”

“Huh?” 

“A plug, there, you tortured it out of me, Hyuck is a plug,” Jungwoo throws his hands up as if you just twisted his arm for the information, and you stare at him blankly.

“A plug,” you repeat.

“You can’t be that innocent, babes, you know what I mean.”

You sit back in your chair, thinking it through.

So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 

“Where did you even meet Hyuck?” Jungwoo asks.

“In the elevator?”

“Why did that sound like a question?” your friend laughs.

“I don’t know! God, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“There are worse things to be overwhelmed about, I mean… tax season is coming soon, and I don’t know how much fraud I should commit with my tips.” 

You can’t help but laugh at Jungwoo, and he’s succeeded in using humour to calm you down. 

He’s grinning at you, and he taps his hand onto the bar top. “Let me make you a drink, on me, but you’ll be paying me with gossip, deal?” 

“Deal.”

You trust Jungwoo to make you drinks by now, and he doesn’t ask what you want, he simply begins to mix a fruity concoction together. Soon, he’s setting it down in front of you and you’re taking a large gulp.

“So…” he grins. “Hyuck or Jae?”

“Are those my only options?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen. “Spill the tea.”

“I just… I met this guy Johnny when I moved in-”

“Johnny as in super tall, blue collar, muscle man, Johnny?”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh.

“And you met him the first day you moved in?”

“He actually helped me with boxes and furniture.”

Jungwoo lets out a whistle. “Now I see why you’re overwhelmed.”

“I guess, I just don’t really know any of these guys too well. I’ve only met all of them once-”

“But you have a favourite,” Jungwoo interjects. “Johnny’s your favourite, despite his fucked up job.”

You sigh. “How could you tell?”

“I watch a lot of reality tv, in shows like Love is Blind or Singles Inferno sometimes a girl has multiple guys going for her, but the first one leaves a mark… it’s not always the case though, but it’s about that initial impact.” 

“Impact,” you repeat. “Johnny definitely made an impact… and he saw the notes from Hyuck and Jae.”

“Oooooh,” Jungwoo grins, “scandalous.” 

“But he works away for weeks at a time!”

“He’s here now,” Jungwoo points out. “So… go on a date with him, and sort out Hyuck and Jae after.”

“You think so?”

“What could be wrong about it?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Go on a date with Johnny, see how you feel- maybe he does something gross that turns you off and it makes life easier.”

“Or maybe he’s perfect and it makes things even worse,” you sigh.

“You never know until you try. Another thing from my dating shows is that no one wants to live with regrets, and I don’t think you do either.” 

Seven:

You’d taken Jungwoo’s advice, and after two drinks at the bar, you’re home, waiting for a knock that sounds on your door.

Taking a deep breath, you fix your outfit, approaching your entry way to find Johnny standing in the hall. He looks all tall and gorgeous, in a similar laid back muscle shirt and sweats combo to the one you’d first seen him in. His hair is a little messy and damp as if he’d just come out of a shower, and the smell of his piney bodywash has you going weak. 

“Hi,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you smile back. “Uh, come in.”

Johnny nods, stepping past the threshold. “Are you a shoes off in the house kind of girl?”

“Yes, please.”

You watch him kick off his runners before turning to you. “I’m a little confused.”

“You are?”

“I got your text that you wanted me to come over, and I half expected you needed help building some cabinet or something, but then I remembered you’ve been here a month already, so now I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“I told you I’d buy you a beer for helping me move my stuff, remember?” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t have beer, but I did open a bottle of wine.”

“That works,” Johnny grins.

“Come, sit.” You move to your living area, taking a seat on the couch. Johnny joins you, and you note the way he immediately shifts his body to be facing you. He watches you pour him a glass, and you both notice your shaky hand as you pass it to him.

“How much have you been drinking, 304?”

“A bit.”

“Rough day?” he enquires with a smile.

“Just…” you let out a deep breath. “Not used to all the attention I’m getting here.”

“Yeah, your entourage.” Johnny sips his drink, still grinning as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not the kind of person who loves getting a lot of attention?”

Johnny cocks his head to the side. “I think it’s hard for a girl who looks like you to avoid that sort of thing.”

God, he is into you, you can taste it- or maybe that’s the sweet notes of your wine. 

You don’t know what to say, but you feel a grin appear on your face, your eyes shifting down to your glass. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just an observation,” Johnny laughs. “So… what are you going to do about all of this?”

“I think…” you swallow thickly. “I think I’m doing something right now.”

“Yeah?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah.”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to be at a loss for words, and you get the sense that this isn’t something that happens very often to him.

“I’m sure you know what it’s like to get a lot of attention,” you offer.

Johnny shrugs. “I’m only in town a week every month, and when I’m here I spend most of my time at the gym or at home. I’ve never been a big party guy, I prefer cheap beer to bars, and I guess I’ve just accepted that a guy like me has to be single.”

“You have to be?” you enquire, cocking your head to the side in a bid to understand him better. 

“Most girls aren’t interested in starting anything with a man who works on a rig. I understand the guys who have girls before the job, and they stay after building a foundation, but it’s hard to work on the start of a relationship when you’re not around.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod- in fact, it’s something you’ve considered to great length already. “If… if the right girl came along, would that be something you’re interested in exploring?”

Johnny lets out a deep breath. “That’s a good question.” 

You watch him sip his wine, giving him the space to consider it.

“I just… I wouldn’t want a girl to feel like she’s an afterthought, or a fuck buddy- and doing the work I do, I have to be focused. It’s day rate, it’s dangerous, sometimes the rigs are a couple hours away from camp, and that’s on top of a twelve hour shift-” He lets out another deep sigh. “I think it would take a very special, very loyal kind of girl to give me a chance.”

“And what would you say your type is?”

His eyes meet yours. “I love a cute girl next door.”

Your heart thumps in your chest. “Funny, I like a boy next door.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re neighbours.”

Johnny lifts his glass and you clink yours together, giggling.

It’s crazy how things can feel so comfortable with him already- but in the background of your mind there’s a sense of dread looming, after all, he’s leaving in just two or so days.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Of course.”

“I’m sad you’re leaving soon.”

“I’m not leaving yet,” he points out.

“You know what I mean.”

Johnny shifts, resting his arm on the back of your couch. “I have a proposition for you, 304.”

“God, stop calling me 304,” you laugh.

“It feels like we’re interested in each other, but I get the sense you’re unsure about the long distance aspect. What if we hang out tonight, tomorrow I take you on an actual date, and if things go well, we could talk about what communication would look like when I’m away.”

“You know what?” you take a deep breath. “I would like that.”

“But… I have on condition.”

“Hit me.”

Johnny is quiet for a moment. “I’m aware that, no matter how good our dates tonight and tomorrow are, me being away might be too much for you. You have two other guys who are interested and they live here, so… even though I’m a cuddly person, I think it’s better for both of us if we keep things PG before I leave, that way… I mean, if you chose one of them because distance is too much, at least things won’t be awkward for us, and we can still be friends.” 

“I think…” - as much as you hate the idea and want to climb him like a tree - “I think that might be the most mature way to handle this.” 

Johnny nods. “So… what are your thoughts on aliens?”

“Huh?”

“UFO’s, UAP’s, USP’s-”

“What even are all of those?” you laugh.

“Unidentified flying objects, unidentified aerial phenomenon, which is pretty much another term for UFO’s, unidentified submersible phenomenon-”

You shake your head at him in affectionate shock. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

“History network,” Johnny grins. “Listen, why would I ask you surface level questions when we can dive into conspiracy theory? UFO’s are a good way to bounce into all sorts of topics, religion, politics, current and historical events-”

He’s a little odd, but you suppose you understand where he’s coming from now. You decide to give up control, and you lean into his question, loving the twists and turns that the conversation takes. You talk about everything, from the moon landing, to ancient monolithic structures and tv shows about space, a discussion about recent alien films leads to an analysis on favourite actors-

Before you even know it, hours have passed, the wine bottle is empty, and you feel as if you know him a lot better than when he’d first entered your apartment. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.

You sigh, looking at the time. “At nine.”

“I should probably get out of your hair then. When are you off?”

“Fiveish.”

Johnny stands up, stretching, and you can’t help the way your eyes move to the exposed strip of V-line when his shirt rises. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at fiveish, 304.”

You rise to your feet, pleasantly surprised when the gentle giant pulls you in for a hug. God, the feeling of his chest against your cheek- the soft cotton of his muscle shirt and the scent of his cologne- you release a deep breath, fully melting into what must be one of the best hugs of your life.

“I’ll text you,” Johnny says, and as he does so, his lips brush the crown of your head.

He’d said PG, and you suppose this is PG, but fuck, you want more.  

Eight:

Out of all the possible date venues, you hadn’t expected bowling. Johnny had told you to dress casually, he’d picked you up, and taken you down to a massive black truck- he’d driven you around town, pointing things out to you, and you’d ended up at a small, underground bowling bar.

He’s a bit of a goof ball, but you can tell he’s got experience playing this game. To compensate for your lack of skills, he does all sorts of trick shots that make him miss points, and you appreciate his effort to not decimate you. 

You drink beer and chat and play, and again, it feels so natural with him. 

When the game is over, the two of you get in the truck, and Johnny says he wants to show you something. A fifteen minute drive leads you to the edge of town, on a lookout that’s perfect now that it’s dark and the small city’s lights are sparkling.

“Do you take all your dates here?” you tease.

Johnny chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t been on a date in a while?”

“I guess with your job, I would,” you pause, looking over at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The large man releases a sigh. “I had a highschool sweetheart,” he starts. “But as time went by, she couldn’t deal with me being a blue collar man. She was very corporate, and our life styles weren’t exactly a match. When she broke up with me, I switched from construction to the rig jobs, figured it would be easier to just put my head down and work. Been doing that for about six years now.”

“So you haven’t dated since highschool?” you ask in shock.

“There’ve been a couple of things here and there. Took a few summers off, had flings, but shit always hit the fan when I went back to work.” 

“That makes sense,” you nod. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a family man at heart,” he assures you. “As a supervisor, I definitely make enough money to take care of the people in my life, but it’s always been a time issue.” Johnny takes a breath, and then he meets your gaze. “What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?”

“Had a couple of failed relationships, the last one inspired me to move away from my home city and come here so I guess there’s a silver lining to it. Ended things with my ex about a year ago and nothing really felt the same after that, figured a change of scenery would do me good.”

“And has it? Done you good?”

You look over at the gorgeous man sitting next to you. “Definitely.” 

It feels like the perfect moment to kiss him, and you note the way his gaze dips to your lips, but then he pulls back, letting out a sigh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Me!?” You act scandalized.

“Yes, you, little miss 304.”

You can only laugh, doing your best to enjoy the rest of your date with him while the knowledge that he’s leaving tomorrow haunts in your periphery. 

Nine:

Johnny’s been gone for three days, and he’s been true to his word when you’d discussed communication while he’s on the rig. He’s kept contact with you, sending good morning messages for you to wake up to, and texting or calling in the late evening when he’s off work.

However, other things have progressed as well. You’d come out of your apartment this morning to find not one, but two bouquets waiting for you, and you feel as if this thing with Jaehyun and Hyuck is getting out of hand.

You find yourself at Jungwoo’s bar again, giving him the rundown on everything that has happened.

“So you’re like, set on Johnny then, huh?” your friend asks.

“I’m not sure, it’s only been three days that he’s been gone but I miss him already, and I can’t even imagine what it will be like to wait another nineteen days-”

“You always knew distance would be a struggle,” Jungwoo nods.

You groan, taking a sip of your fruity cocktail. “I just can’t believe Jaehyun and Hyuck left flowers at my door.”

“You’re going to have to do something about them.”

“Like what?”

“Reject or accept, babes,” Jungwoo says simply. 

“Accept?”

“You’re not technically dating Johnny yet. It sounds like he understands you might go on a date or two while he’s gone, I mean, you had that whole conversation about keeping things PG so it’s not awkward if he comes back and you’ve chosen someone else- it feels like he’s giving you breathing room to explore.”

You can only sigh, resting your head in your hands.

“Do you want to explore?” Jungwoo enquires. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to bump into Jaehyun or Hyuck sometime, so you better figure it out fast.”

Ten:

As you’re returning from happy hour with Jungwoo, you run into your building manager. He’s a young man named Doyoung. He has a very regal look to him, and he’s as attractive as most of the men on the third floor.

He’s in the small building office, and as you walk past, he stops you.

“y/n!” he calls, waving you inside, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you!”

Your heart sinks- your payment wasn’t late, was it? Did you get a noise complaint? Your mind begins to race-

“I heard that people have been leaving notes and flowers at your door,” Doyoung tells you. “As you’re a young woman who is new to the building, I wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re not being harassed.”

Your brain short circuits- it’s one thing for Jungwoo and other people on the third floor to know about your ‘secret admirers’ but another for your building manager to be broaching the topic with you. 

“I uh,” you swallow thickly. “I’m not being harassed.”

Doyoung gives you a pointed look. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “It’s all just playful, nothing… nefarious.”

God, you hate how proper you’re trying to sound, but how else are you supposed to explain this situation to Doyoung? 

This is so awkward, who knew moving into a new apartment would be this fucking complex? 

Eleven:

You’re in the lobby checking your mailbox when the front door opens and Jaehyun walks in. His hair is windswept, and he looks like he’s getting back from the gym. He immediately flashes you that dimpled smile and your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage.

“Hey, you,” he grins. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’ve uh… been busy,” you offer, quickly closing your mail box.

“Seems that way,” Jaehyun muses, and you realize he’s waiting to go to the elevator with you.

Taking a deep breath, you pull up your big girl panties, walking with him to the lift.

He hits the button, turning to you. “So-”

The elevator opens and you find Hyuck standing there, having just come up from the underground parkade, and suddenly you feel like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hiya, hot stuff,” Hyuck grins. “Going up?”

Part of you wants to turn and run away, but you’re in too deep now to go back, so you enter the elevator with the two men who’ve been fighting for space on your door, and maybe also in your heart.

“How’ve you been?” Hyuck asks.

“I’ve been good, just busy,” you mutter quickly, hitting the ‘close door’ button in the hope that it saves you even one second in this awkward elevator ride.

“You coming from the gym?” Hyuck’s line of questioning has taken a turn, and you realize he’s addressing Jaehyun next to you. 

“Yup, you?”

“Was just out,” Hyuck responds vaguely.

You get the sense that these two might know each other in passing, after all, you all live on the same floor, but at the same time, it’s somewhat clear from their muted interaction that they’re not particularly close.

It’s an awkward, silent minute in the elevator, but it’s even more awkward when you all get off on the third floor, with both men letting you exit first, only to struggle in a pissing match over who follows you.

They end up tracing your steps to your door, and when you get there, they both stop.

“Wait,” Hyuck breathes, and you watch him look from you to Jaehyun then back again. “You must be sticky note dude.”

“And you’re flowers guy,” Jaehyun sighs.

Both of them turn to you and it’s Hyuck who asks, “You’re still single right?”

It must be obvious to them both that if they’re warring at your doorstep, neither of them actually have your number just yet, and while it’s awkward to be put on the spot like this, you understand their confusion.

“Still single,” you assure them, fumbling with your keys. “I uh, actually have only lived here a month, and I’m still getting settled-” you search for the right words while trying not to drop your phone. “I appreciate the interest from you both, but this has gotten a little out of hand- Doyoung asked me about all of this yesterday-”

“Doyoung?” Hyuck scoffs. “What does he care if we leave notes and flowers at your door?”

“I guess he’s just concerned about my safety?” you offer.

While you can tell that Jaehyun understands, Hyuck still seems a little slow to the pick up, rolling his eyes. “As if we’d ever do anything bad.”

Which is funny, coming from a guy who’s supposedly a drug dealer.

“I think I just need some space,” you say finally, shocked by the conviction in your own voice as you slip your key into the lock. “To… you know, settle.”

“I’m sure we can give you some space,” Jaehyun offers, and you can tell from his tone that it’s a warning to Hyuck not to argue.

The plug sighs. “Yeah, we can give some space.”

They’re both very handsome, and upon different circumstances, one of them doing the sticky note and flowers trick might have swayed you, but the fact that it’s become something of a war between them has turned you off. The seriousness in Doyoung’s discussion with you yesterday had made you realize as much, and you’d be lying if you said your growing connection with Johnny didn’t have anything to do with it either.

Twelve:

After the debacle with Jaehyun and Hyuck, you’d anxiously awaited a call with Johnny when he was done work and back at the camp. But now, as you talk to him on the phone, you hesitate about divulging in the events that took place today.

Johnny’s making an effort with you, but you can hear in his voice that he’s exhausted, and you don’t want to add pressure to his shoulders-

“Are you okay, 304?” Johnny asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re just a bit quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” you admit with a sigh.

“Sounds intense, what’s up?”

Another deep breath escapes you. “So… remember the whole secret admirer thing?”

“Uh huh.”

“They left flowers on my doorstep a few days ago too, and Doyoung actually pulled me aside to ask me about it- he was worried I’m being harassed, and it just makes me think about, you know, being a young woman in a new city and my safety…”

You trail off and Johnny takes the opportunity to empathize, softly telling you, “Being anxious about this sort of thing is reasonable given the circumstances.” 

“It’s not that I think Jaehyun or Hyuck would ever overstep-”

“Well, they left notes, and you didn’t respond, so they left flowers, it’s not exactly a sign that they’re going to back off.”

“I guess that’s true,” you admit.

“Anyways, you were saying, about Doyoung?” 

You love how Johnny can get you back on track, and you take another deep breath to steady yourself. “I saw Jaehyun and Hyuck in the elevator today, and they both walked me to my door which was super awkward, and I guess I pretty much ended up telling them both that I needed space. Part of me wasn’t sure if I should tell you any of this, I know you’re tired after work a long day, but I guess I want to be transparent with you about everything.”

The line is quiet for a moment, and when Johnny speaks, you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “I appreciate you bringing it up,” he starts. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little shocked you didn’t accept either of their offers to get drinks.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I thought I’d made it clear that I’d understand if you did-”

“Just because you’d understand it doesn’t mean I was going to do it,” you tell him.

Johnny chuckles. “I suppose that’s true. I just, I don’t know, you don’t owe me anything- and maybe you’re just not interested in either of them, but I hope you didn’t say no to them to… spare my feelings or something?”

“Well… are your feelings spared?” 

Another laugh escapes him. “I just mean to say, this wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought she could do long distance, only to get a better option in town and jump ship.”

“Maybe I’m not like the other girls you’ve dated,” you tell him.

“It’s starting to feel like you’re not.” You can hear the fondness in his voice, and it makes your heart race faster in your chest. 

“When I get one man in my head, I can’t think about another. I’m not the type to jump ship,” you explain. “You’ve given me no reason to.”

“Except the distance,” he muses.

“Even with the distance, you’ve been attentive every day, and I’ve really appreciated that. You know, some guys will live in the same city as you, take you on one date, then not talk to you for five days- you and I did two dates back to back, and we’ve been talking consistently ever since.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want you to feel like an afterthought.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like just an option.” 

The line is quiet for a moment, then Johnny laughs. “There you go, being dangerous again.”

“If being genuine is dangerous, then I’m the most dangerous woman you’ll ever meet, Johnny.”

“I work on a rig, 304, I happen to like danger.” 

Thirteen:

You’re drinking wine with Jungwoo in your livingroom when your phone dings, and a smile spreads across your face when you see it’s a text from Johnny.

“One second,” you tell him, putting down your wine to respond to your blue collar man.

“Johnny?” Jungwoo grins knowingly.

“Yup, he’s just telling me he’s off work, but now it’s a two hour drive back to the camp.”

“So our girls’ night is over in two hours, got it,” Jungwoo jokes, except, is it really a joke if it’s true?

You can only laugh, shaking your head and setting your phone down again.

“You like him,” Jungwoo notes. “You like him a lot.” 

“I do,” you confess.

“You told Jaehyun and Hyuck off because of him,” your friend continues.

“Uh huh.” You take a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the knowing expression on Jungwoo’s face.

“So… has it gotten sexual yet? You know, asking for snaps of your tits-”

“Jungwoo!” you squeal, nearly spilling your wine as you go to gently smack his arm.

“What!? It’s a valid question!”

“No! It’s not sexual yet! I mean… I think we both have those feelings, but right now… we’re just, getting to know each other.”

“And when he’s home?” Jungwoo cocks a brow and you giggle even more.

“When he’s home…” you lower your voice, “I’m going to climb that man like a tree.”

“I knew it!” Jungwoo cheers. “Team Johnny!”

You clink your glasses in agreement, waiting for Jungwoo to settle down a little. He’s way too invested in your love life, but you kind of adore it. 

“You know…” Jungwoo trails off, “some rig guys do mostly winters, then come back for the summer and will take a couple of months off. I remember seeing Johnny more frequently last August.”

“He mentioned that,” you admit. 

“Did he say if he plans to do that this year? It’s almost March, so that’s April, May, maybe June… three or four more stints up there until a possible summer of love?”

You laugh at his choice of words, but your heart races at the notion of getting to spend your whole summer with Johnny, of a relationship of normalcy. 

“I’ll have to talk to him about it,” you decide.

“Maybe send some sexy snaps to tempt him, or talk about it once he’s home and you’ve sucked that dick, you know, incentives.”

“You’re so bad,” you giggle.

“I’m a hit of realism, which is what you need after living a fantasy for a month with three men fighting over you.”

You let out a sigh. “I suppose you might be right about that.”

Fourteen:

“How was your day?” you ask, practically kicking your feet now that you get to talk to Johnny.

“Long,” he laughs. “You?”

“It was good, hung out with Jungwoo for a bit, had some wine.”

“I can hear it in your voice, 304, you always get extra cute when you’ve been drinking your wine.”

“Do I?” 

“See? I can just imagine you kicking your feet right now.”

God, he knows you so well already- but you suppose that’s what happens when you talk to someone for hours every day. 

“And now you probably stopped kicking your feet because you’re embarrassed,” he continues.

“You’re a psychic,” you declare.

“Sure I am.”

You take a breath. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“So… you mentioned that sometimes you have the summer off, and I guess, since it’s almost March, I was just wondering if you’d be around in June or July.”

“I mean, I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, but if that’s something you wanted, I could see what I could make happen.”

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t want to tell you what to do… and, I don’t want you to lose out on money for me, especially since we just started dating, if you even call this dating- but, at the same time, I think, long term, it would be easier to manage you going away for six or more months if I knew you’d be back for at least part of the summer.”

“I do call this dating,” Johnny tells you. “So I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“I also wanted to know when you’re flight back is, I was thinking I could come grab you from the airport.” 

Johnny chuckles. “I’ll send you the information, 304.” 

Fifteen:

You’re waiting outside your car when you see Johnny coming out of the airport, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore. You run to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

Johnny chuckles, dropping his duffle to pull you closer, even going so far as to lift you off the ground, releasing a groan as he does so.

Fuck, he feels so good, and big, and warm-

When he sets you down, you throw inhibition out the window, grabbing the back of his neck to pull his lips down to your own.

He smiles into the kiss, his palm flattening against the small of your back, his mouth moving in harmony with your own. You kiss him deeply, pouring in all the emotion of having missed him for weeks- 

It’s you who breaks the kiss, panting and looking up at him. “Let’s get you home,” you state. 

“Whatever you say, 304.”

The drive back to the apartment complex is a blur, you’re so distracted by Johnny that you’re surprised you even make it back in one piece. The elevator ride is quiet, filled with tension, and you can practically feel happiness radiating off of both of you.

“Wanna come to mine?” Johnny suggests. “I need to have a quick shower, unpack a little.”

“Okay,” you nod, excited as you follow Johnny to his place.

He lets you in first, and you eagerly eat up what’s in front of you, looking for details of the decor that might help you know this man even better.

However, you find that his apartment is sparsely decorated, with bare necessities, a minimalist look, which you suppose makes sense given the fact that he’s hardly here.

“Your place is nicer,” Johnny muses as he kicks off his shoes. 

“It’s just more furnished,” you laugh, not minding the lack of items.

“My bedroom is this way,” Johnny explains, heading into it while you follow slowly. He throws his bag on the floor next to his bed before turning to you. “I’m going to wash up a bit, then we can do whatever you want… or, I mean, you could always join me in the shower if that works better.”

He winks at you, and it’s very playful. You can only laugh, shaking your head and feeling your skin flush with heat as you look at the ground.

“I’ll be here,” you tell him, but when he disappears into the bathroom, you find your heart is still racing.

Should you go in the shower with him? 

He had offered for you to join…

Can you be a bit more patient?

No. You can’t. As you stand in his bedroom, you begin to undress, hyping yourself up for the moment that you’ve been waiting for.

After a deep breath, you knock gently on the door to his bathroom.

“Come in!” he calls over the sound of water spray, and you peek your head into the enclosed space. 

The room is full of steam, and the glassy walls of the shower are fogged up, but you can see the outline of Johnny’s body and it has you drooling.

You slip inside, closing the door behind you before making your way to the shower.

“Can I join you?” you ask, giving him one last opportunity to decide if this was a bad idea-

“Get in here.” Johnny opens the shower door, grabs your arm and tugs you inside with him. You blink against the mist, looking up at the large man who’s currently blocking the spray of water from hitting you. “Didn’t think you’d actually join,” he muses with a grin.

“Me neither,” you admit.

Johnny strokes your arm, fingers trailing up so he can cup your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone and you lean into his warm touch, releasing a moan. 

“Do you want to do this here, or would you rather we wait till I can get you onto my bed?” he asks.

“Here,” you tell him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“Didn’t take you as the impatient type,” Johnny chuckles.

“I’ve been patient, for weeks,” you laugh.

“I guess that’s true, let’s fix that.” The tall man leans down, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately wrap your arms around his strong, wet shoulders, pressing your chests together as the kiss deepens. 

You can feel your nipples hardening against him, and his hands move to grab at your hips, pulling you even tighter to his body.

Something is beginning to press against your abdomen, and you love that you’re getting him hard already, that he’s as into you as you are into him. 

His palm slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing deliciously. You break the kiss to throw your head back, eyes closed as you enjoy the sensation of him.

“You know the only bad thing about shower sex?” Johnny asks, lips hot against your throat now. “Water isn’t lube, so I guess you’re going to have to be a good girl for me and wait just a little longer while I get you nice and wet for me.”

“I’m already wet,” you insist.

Johnny only chuckles, squeezing your ass harder as he licks at the sweet spot on your throat. “Let me enjoy this, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Really?” you groan. “I never would have noticed, you’re always so PG.”

“I’m not going to be PG anymore.”

“Thank god!” A shiver runs through your body at the idea of what ‘rated R Johnny’ is going to look like- and as he pushes his thigh up between your own, you’re so grateful that you no longer have to wonder, you’re about to find out exactly how dirty this blue collar man can get.

Johnny laughs again, but as he laughs, he pushes his thigh up even higher, making contact with your clit.

“Fuck, I haven’t been touched in so long,” you whimper, immediately grinding down against him.

“Well, you deserve this, you’ve been a very patient, very good girl for me.” 

“I have been,” you nod, rubbing your clit harder against his large, muscled thigh.

“Had options, but you stayed loyal, even when you didn’t have to.” Johnny’s still kissing your throat, and he nuzzles up against your ear, biting your lobe gently. “I feel like those choices have earned you many rewards.”

His words are something like praise- appreciation almost, and you’re thankful that he’s taken into account the fact that you’ve made important decisions to put this blooming relationship first, even when - as Jungwoo said - you had no actual defined loyalty keeping you tied to this tall man.

“I just like you a lot,” you moan, feeling overwhelmed with the possibilities of a relationship with this man- a man who has communicated that he’s interested in something long term, which is such a stark contrast to most of the men you deal with these days.

God, to have hope for a man again- it’s such a foreign feeling.

“I like you too, 304.”

“Johnny,” you groan, “call me something else.”

“I think 304 is cute,” he grins against your throat.

“Please?”

“Okay, baby, I’ll call you anything you want,” Johnny promises, adjusting his grip on you so he can trail his hand up your torso, putting a slight distance between your bodies now so he can cup your breast. His thumb rubs over your hard nipple and you whimper, grinding harder against his thigh. “You are a baby, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

“I could also see you as a bit of a princess,” he muses, pinching your nipple and making you gasp loudly. “Adorable little pretty princess baby.”

He might be overdoing it with the pet names, but you can’t even bring yourself to care- in fact, this overt cheesiness is doing something to you, making your pussy throb as you grind against his wet skin.

“That’s it,” Johnny groans, “I kind of want to watch you get off on my thigh.”

“Yeah?” You swallow thickly, reaching for his hard cock. You’re a little taken aback by how large he is, but you guess you shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been shy so far, not even taking so much as a peek at what you’re going to be working with- and maybe that had been a mistake. You’d been so sure of yourself earlier when you’d told Johnny you could take him without prep, and now you’re realizing how wrong you had been.

A deep moan escapes Johnny as you begin to stroke him, and he rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you cry out- only for his hand to move away, along with his thigh.

You want to protest- only for two digits to press between your pussy lips, teasing your entrance but not pushing in- just playing, toying, moving up to your clit then back down.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“You definitely feel wet,” Johnny muses.

“So finger fuck me?” you suggest, applying more pressure to his cock as you stroke him off.

“Hmm?” He circles your clit teasingly, being so gentle that your body is already practically begging for more.

“Please finger fuck me?” you ask, your free hand now clutching his forearm in desperation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Johnny cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his as his fingers enter your hot core for the first time.

Fuck, his fingers alone are enough to stretch you out and it feels absolutely delightful. 

He starts slow, testing the waters as his digits explore your inner walls gently, but as the kiss deepens so do his motions.

You’re absolutely lost in him, whimpering and moaning- your hips even begin to move, eagerly seeking out stimulus that he grants when his palm presses flat to your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, holding his strong, veiny forearm even tighter.

“Feels good?” he asks, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“Feels so good,” you nod, fighting the urge to just close your eyes and enjoy it, while also wanting to stare up at this gorgeous man who is watching you with clear interest.

You take a shuddery breath, trying to focus on stroking his cock, but he makes it more difficult when he crooks his fingers up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking.

“Are you going to be able to stand through all of this?” Johnny chuckles. “That’s the other bad thing about shower sex, it’s a slipping risk.”

“I think I can do it,” you insist, not wanting him to stop his motions for even one moment.

“Just hold onto me tightly okay, but if you start to fall, uh… don’t pull my dick off.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and Johnny joins you with a chuckle of his own.

This feels so natural, so safe- the fact that you’re both giggling during your first sexual experience together is a great sign, and it makes you relax a little more, which only adds to the pleasure that’s starting to throb out from your core.

“You close?” Johnny asks, sensing the shift in your attention.

“Too close,” you nod, swallowing thickly in an effort to control yourself.

“Want you to cum on my fingers,” he tells you. “You can do that for me, right princess?”

“Uh huh.” Your mind is becoming clouded by lust, and it’s making it harder for you to respond to him-

His fingers are moving fast now, pistoning in and out of you with just the right amount of pressure, his palm stimulating your clit in a way that’s just enough-

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge and you don’t feel like slowing down. 

Your eyes close, your breathing becoming haggard as your muscles tighten with anticipation-

“Cum on my fingers, baby,” Johnny groans. “Wanna feel it.” 

With that, you explode, unable to contain yourself anymore as his filthy words vibrate through your entire being like a mantra. The pleasure is intense, your core clamping down on his digits, body throbbing deliciously as you give yourself over to the feeling of it.

Your legs are weak, and you grab Johnny’s forearm tighter, digging your nails against his skin.

It’s the kind of ecstasy that you never want to end, and it’s clear that Johnny’s not going to be the one to pull the rug out from under you. He keeps you steady, working you through your high until your legs are physically shaking.

Only once he’s sure you’re finished does Johnny pull his hand away.

You open your eyes to watch him slip his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, and an echo of pleasure throbs through your pussy again.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” Johnny tells you.

“Want you inside of me, now,” you respond.

“Hmmm… not yet.”

“What?” 

“You almost just fell over, I don’t think this is the safest place to do this,” Johnny laughs. “Come on, let's get out of the shower, dry off, and I’ll take you to my bed, like I’d planned.”

“Is it really that bad to fuck me here?” you whine.

“One, I don’t want you to slip, and two, I don’t want our first time to be here, you deserve a proper bed, so I can cuddle you after.” 

“You’re such a romantic,” you tease, but your heart swells at the notion of a man actually taking care of you.

“You love it,” Johnny insists.

He reaches behind himself, turning off the spray of water, then, he helps you out of the enclosed space. “Here,” Johnny passes you a towel, quickly patting himself down with his own before wrapping it around his waist, then he begins to help dry you off.

“I can do this part,” you assure him.

“I want to take care of you,” Johnny muses as his palms massage your breasts through the towel, making sure they’re extra dry.

“I think you just want to touch my tits again,” you grin.

“That too,” Johnny laughs.

“Predictable,” you toy.

“You think so?”

“Uh huh.”

In one quick motion, Johnny grabs you by the hips and lifts you onto the washroom countertop, tearing the towel away and discarding it haphazardly as he sinks to his knees.

“I think I’m going to make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you, you know, to prove how predictable I am.”

You don’t even have a moment to argue, Johnny pushes your thighs open, pulls you to the edge of the counter, and dives into your core with his tongue. 

You immediately latch onto his damp hair, throwing your head back as his mouth begins to work your pussy. You’re still sensitive from having just cum, and the sensation of his lips now wrapping around your clit has your muscles clenching with pleasure already. 

“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the way Johnny’s fingers are digging into your thighs, holding you open for a tongue that has a mind of its own.

You especially adore how messy he’s being. There are no kitten licks, no hesitancies, just a full-on lust fuelled ravaging of your core- nothing in your life has ever felt this fucking good.

You tug on Johnny’s hair roughly, but he’s unrelenting, in fact, you think he kind of likes the inkling of pain because he groans against your clit, licking at you sloppily while his nose bumps your sensitive bud over and over.

For a man who doesn’t do one night stands very often, he definitely knows his way around a pussy.

“Shit,” you moan, louder this time, your muscles tightening more and more-

You’re not used to men behaving this way with you, worshiping your body and putting your pleasure first. To have two back to back orgasms before he’s even taken anything for himself? Unheard of.

You can tell he wants you to cum, can tell that he’s eager for it, and the wet licks of his tongue against your sensitive pussy are ensuring that his preferred outcome happens sooner rather than later.

You give in to the feeling, deciding to relinquish control. If he wants to make you cum fast, then you can cum fast, and all of your attention moves to the feeling of pleasure that’s radiating out from your core.

Your abdominal muscles are tightening deliciously, and you begin to buck your hips a little, trying to ride his tongue while you hold him tight to your pussy by his hair.

Johnny groans again and the vibration of it sends a shiver of delight through your entire body.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” You swallow thickly, brows furrowing with effort as you latch onto that feeling of euphoria, unwilling to let it drift away- “just like that, just like that-”

He sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, and that’s all you need to explode, your pussy clamping down hard on nothing, squeezing and squelching sinfully. 

You’re gasping loudly, moaning like a whore as your orgasm washes over you in waves- and like your first high, Johnny is just as unrelenting with this one.

He doesn’t pull away, and with so much attention focused on your throbbing clit, it’s almost too much for you to handle.

You begin to push at Johnny’s head, but he’s like a brick wall, unmoving and diligent in his task.

“Oh my god-” your voice is raising with effort, raising with the euphoria that’s threatening to overwhelm you completely. “Johnny- too much-”

This time, he allows you to push him away, and you sink back down against the countertop, chest heaving with effort. Your legs twitch with aftershocks from your orgasm, and you can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes yet, still lost in the ecstasy he’d just provided.

“You okay, princess?” Johnny asks, and you can sense him rising to his feet, his eyes inspecting you.

“Overstimulated,” you admit, another shock washing through you and making you jolt.

“I got side tracked,” Johnny admits, and you peer out at him from under hooded lids to see him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, it was just a lot,” you assure him, reaching out to gently stroke his forearm. 

“Come on,” Johnny coaxes, lifting you off the sink so he can carry you to his room, “let’s give you a breather.”

He lays you gently onto his mattress, moving the blankets so you can get under the warm duvet.

The sheets smell like him, a manly pine scent, and it makes you groan, burying your face against the pillows while your brain tries to reaclimatize after a mind shattering orgasm.

Johnny joins you, and you instinctively cuddle close to his chest, delighted by the way his large arms wrap around you to hold you close.

“Just give me a sec,” you whisper, but even as the words leave your lips, your hand snakes down to his cock, and you gently wrap your fingers around the thick length.

Johnny chuckles. “Part of me thought you’d be too tired to actually fuck now.”

“Never,” you tell him, although you’re so exhausted from two extreme orgasms that there’s little conviction in the tone of your voice. 

“Take your time,” Johnny assures you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head while you languidly stroke his large cock. Unlike in the shower, however, there’s no lubrication of any kind, and soon, you tire of it.

“Okay,” you tell him, sitting up, “I can ride you.”

“Are you sure you want to be on top?” he blinks in shock. 

“Just to start, just to get used to your size,” you assure him.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

You swing your leg over Johnny’s hips, straddling him, and his hands find your waist. 

“Actually, let me grab some lube,” he says, sitting up abruptly. The muscles in his abdomen ripple under the skin, and you’re taken aback by just how beautiful this man is even as he’s reaching for his bedside table.

He pulls out a green bottle, squirting some of the gell into his palm before he grabs his cock.

You kind of love the view of his large hand on his massive cock, stroking up and down-

“Like what you see?” he laughs.

“You’re just so perfect,” you muse.

“That makes two of us I guess,” Johnny grins. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

He’s all lathered up now, and you grab the base of his cock, guiding yourself down on the tip. 

As you sink down even an inch, you groan at the stretch.

He’s covered in lube, and you’re definitely more than lubricated from two orgasms, but fuck- having not had sex in ages only to take the biggest cock of your life is definitely an adjustment for your tight pussy.

“Take it slow,” he assures you, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you steady as you gently sink down further on his cock.

“I’m good, you’re just so big,” you whimper.

Johnny only chuckles at your words, his eyes fixed on the meeting of your bodies.

“Not sure I can take it all like this,” you admit.

“I’ve heard that when a girl is on top, things feel deeper,” Johnny muses. “Don’t feel like you have to take it all right now, we can work up to that.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’m going to bounce a bit.”

“Works for me, princess.”

You close your eyes, leaning over him and placing your hands firmly on his chest as an anchor as you begin to move up and down. The feeling of his massive cock against your inner walls has your body singing with pleasure already, and you begin to moan.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good.”

“So good,” you agree with another whimper.

One of Johnny’s hands moves from your hip to your breast, and he begins to massage the sensitive flesh as you ride him gently. The sensation of him tweaking your nipple has you groaning, your pussy clenching incredibly tight around him, which makes both of you cry out desperately.

“Fuck, let me know when you want me to take over,” Johnny tells you, and you get the sense that you might be killing him a little with the slowness of your pace. His hips twitch, and you suspect that he’s doing everything in his power not to madly thrust up into you, which is something you appreciate greatly.

You ride him for a little while longer, and then you give up, legs burning with effort already. “Okay, okay, you can top now.”

You pull off of his cock, and Johnny helps you roll down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

Instead of just getting on top of you, however, he stays on his side and leans over you, pressing his lips to yours while his hand continues to massage your breast.

You groan against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair desperately as his tongue invades your mouth.

He kisses you until you’re breathless, until your pussy is pulsing with desire, only then does he get between your legs, bringing the head of his cock to your awaiting hole.

“If you ever need me to slow down, or be less rough, or anything, just let me know,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as he gazes at your body.

“Just do it, Johnny,” you assure him, stroking his forearm. “Please.”

You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort again, and he slowly pushes the head of his cock into your wet hole, making you cry out. You grip his arm tighter, closing your eyes to enjoy the stretching sensation.

He sinks into you, inch by inch, gently thrusting to get you used to the intrusion.

When he’s almost fully inside of you, Johnny leans over your body, his elbows making contact with the bed on either side of your head so he can be in something of a plank position overtop of you.

You can feel his breath on your face, and you open your eyes to look up at him, your hand moving to cup his cheek while your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

“You can fuck me now,” you tease, grinning at how slow and gentle he’s been up until this point. “Please.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, and just like that, he begins to move.

Each thrust is unbound pleasure, his hips moving fluidly as he gradually increases his pace. His long cock hits deep spots inside of you that have you crying out, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders while your tongues battle for dominance in the most heated kiss of your life.

He’s moaning too, and it sounds so good- making your pussy even wetter as he decimates it perfectly.

You love the feeling of his large body pressing down against your own, his hard muscles are delightful under your touch when you skim your hand along his shoulders.

He’s steadily increasing the power behind each thrust, and now, the bed is beginning to rock with his movements, delighting you even more.

How can this man have so much raw power, but still be so gentle and careful when it matters most?

You might be a little obsessed with him, but as his massive cock hits your g-spot, you suppose it’s no wonder your feelings are growing at a rapid pace.

He has you cock drunk, in a way that you’ve never experienced in the entirety of your life, and you kind of love it.

“Shit,” Johnny cusses, breaking your kiss so he can press his mouth to your throat. “I never- never asked about protection.”

“I’m covered,” you assure him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly. “You can cum inside me.”

A deep groan escapes Johnny, and it vibrates through where your chests are pressed together.

“Don’t want to cum like this,” Johnny tells you, “it’s too soon.”

He pulls away, and you whimper when his cock leaves your wet hole. But then Johnny is manhandling you into doggy position, and you let out a moan of pleasure, arching your back and resting your head against the bed.

“You look good like this too,” Johnny muses as he pushes his cock back into you, his hands grabbing your hips roughly. “Always look so good.”

His praise is doing something to you, encouraging you enough to make you begin to move as well, doing your best to match his pace and push back against him with each thrust.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and your moans mingle in the air together.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, railing into you even harder. “So fucking tight-”

“I’m close,” you assure him, “just let me-” you slip your hand between your thighs, fingers seeking out your sensitive clit. The moment you make contact, you feel your pussy contract around Johnny’s cock, and it makes you both moan loudly.

“Yeah, want you to cum with me,” Johnny tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

You don’t respond, too focused on your task as you begin to draw small circles around the sensitive bud.

God, nothing has ever felt this good, to be so completely full, while your clit is receiving attention at the same time-

The tension is quickly building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s clear to both of you that you’re rapidly approaching the edge-

“Here,” Johnny’s voice distracts you, and all of the sudden he’s hauling you onto your knees, pinning your back to his chest with an arm braced across your breasts, one hand cupping your boob like a seatbelt. You can feel his breath on your throat, and you quickly turn your head, seeking out his lips with your own.

His free hand pushes yours aside from your clit, applying even more pressure to your sensitive bud as he fucks into you erratically.

God, you feel him absolutely everywhere. You feel like a doll, suspended in time and space while this absolute unit of a man gives you all of the pleasure you could ever ask for, pulling at your strings like an expert.

He’s groaning more deeply- and with one more rough circle of your clit, you feel yourself come undone. You gasp against his lips, core clamping down on his cock-

A strangled sound escapes Johnny, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he cums with you, coating your throbbing insides with his cum as you both fall off the edge together.

He’s clinging to you in a way a man has never clung to you, and you’re kissing him as if he’s the air you need to breathe. In this moment, it’s only you and him and this feeling of euphoria that you never want to give up.

He fucks you through your high until you’re both a panting mess, and then, he helps you back onto the bed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going to go get some tissues,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You can only moan happily, inhaling the scent of pine as you cuddle against his pillow.

Johnny returns shortly, and he hands you some tissues to wipe his cum from your core.

“Should we take another shower or something?” Johnny asks, laughing a little at how messy you both are.

“Cuddles first,” you tell him.

Johnny grins, joining you on his bed, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you. “Cuddles first,” he agrees.

You both take deep breaths, and as your body begins to calm down while pressed against his, you know you made the right choice of man in this fucked up, love island-esque apartment complex that you now call home.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This was way longer than I intended, which is why it took a minute to be posted, but I hope it was worth the wait!

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🔮 preview.  In the summer, Johnny’s not just a blue collar rig man, he’s a dude with friends, tanned skin from his obsession with the sun, and a taste for margaritas while sitting on boats between water skiing stints.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of toys, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation, breast worship, use of lube, inklings of pain kink, hand job, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.8k I teaser wc. 100

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

People sometimes talk about a specific summer in their life being ‘the summer of dreams,’ and you never quite understood what could make one stretch of months so significant- but now, living life with Johnny by your side every day, it makes total sense.

In the few months you’ve been dating, he’s done his best to introduce you to friends, but with such a short time in town, it was always difficult to juggle friends, family, and your growing relationship.

Now that it’s summer, you get to see how Johnny is when he’s just being himself.

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You’re in your first year at Hogwarts when Na Jaemin asks you out for the first time.

The both of you are standing in the middle of the courtyard and his ears are blooming red, either from the cold or pure embarrassment. He’s holding a chocolate frog, outstretching his hand to you.

“I think you’re pretty.”

You try to ignore the fact that your friends are squealing behind you. Your eyes are only focused on Jaemin, who’s wearing his signature smile. His best friends, Jeno and Donghyuck, are snickering behind him.

You know you want to tell the Slytherin that he’s pretty too, or at least thank him for the gift, but somehow your brain completely short circuits.

Your eleven-year-old self runs away from the group and back into the Hogwarts castle, breaking Na Jaemin’s heart for the first time.

—

You’re in your second year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the second time.

Your rejection of Jaemin the previous year spread around school like wildfire. Many of your friends asked you why you turned him down, especially when he was one of the most desired boys in your year. You didn’t know how to explain that he made you extremely nervous and his declaration of affection caused you to hate the attention you started receiving.

“Jaemin’s looking at you,” Doyeon giggles in your ear.

Your eyes wander up from your Potions book to see that, indeed, Jaemin is sitting at one of the library tables across the room, focus directed at you. You swallow and return your gaze to your textbook.

“Don’t you want to ask him why he’s staring at you?” Doyeon whines at your lack of enthusiasm. “He clearly still likes you!”

The librarian shushes your table and Doyeon sticks her tongue out when they’re not looking.

You sigh. “I just want to finish my Potions essay, Doyeon.”

You can practically see her roll her eyes in response. Jaemin has tried talking to you since the incident, jumping at any chance to partner with you during your classes together. You’ve only offered him rapid blinks and slow nods in return.

You groan when Doyeon suddenly elbows your side.

“Go and get me the book we need for Charms, please.”

“What? Why can’t you get it?” You frown, eyebrows furrowed.

She sighs as if you’re the one causing a problem. She gives you one of her signature looks and you grumble, pulling yourself away from the table. When you finally find the aisle you’re looking for, you nearly gasp when you see Jaemin there too.

Oh Doyeon, you sneaky witch.

He says your name like you’ve just caught the Golden Snitch. “Nice to see you!”

You smile awkwardly, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Hi, Nana.”

He beams when you call him by his nickname. You falter at his clear enthusiasm. You wish you were just slightly more brave to carry a conversation with him, but you resort to clumsily searching for Doyeon’s book. You sigh when you realize it’s on the top shelf.

Before you can attempt to grab it, you feel Jaemin’s chest press against your back as he easily takes it for you. You yelp at the proximity, ignoring his cheerful smile as he hands the book over to you.

“Looking for this?”

You try your best to steady your voice. “Um, yes?”

He chuckles. “You don’t sound so sure about it.”

Despite the book being safely in your hands, he shows no signs of stepping away from you. You avoid any eye contact you could possibly make with him.

“I should get back to my table,” you whisper softly. “Doyeon probably wants to get started on her Charms homework.”

“Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

You blink at Jaemin’s question. He’s still smiling happily, fully expecting you to say yes.

“Um, I have a lot of work to get done tonight. Potions essay and all of that.”

“Oh,” he murmurs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck and taking a step away from you. “That’s okay. Some other night then?”

“Okay!” You squeak, taking your chance and scurrying away from him. Your abrupt departure prevents you from seeing the hopeful look in his eyes.

When you return to your table, Doyeon is smirking mischievously.

“You sure took a long time getting that book.”

“I hate you.”

—

You’re in your third year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the third time.

“Dude, she’s not going out with you. It’s starting to look super desperate.”

Jeno has to physically prevent Jaemin from lunging across the Great Hall table and attacking Donghyuck.

“Hyuck,” Renjun scolds from his spot next to Jeno. “You know Jaemin’s sensitive about it.”

“Whatever,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is that everyone knows you like her, and if she liked you, then moves would have already been made.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jaemin hisses. “She’s just shy, that’s all. She doesn’t like the attention.”

Jeno glares at Donghyuck as a signal for him to shut up. Renjun even shoves a spoonful of chicken into Donghyuck’s mouth to make sure of it.

Jaemin’s focus returns to you as you’re giggling into your hand at something Yoo Jimin says. He fondly smiles at the sight of you looking so happy from across the Great Hall. He wishes you would look that happy whenever you see him too.

His attempts at getting you to agree to a date has been less than successful to say the least. Donghyuck was right — everyone in the Wizarding World knew of Jaemin’s crush at this point, but you still showed no signs of returning his affections.

“I’m not saying Donghyuck’s right or anything,” Renjun timidly brings up, earning a warning look from Jeno. “But maybe you should try crushing on someone else. Who knows? Maybe she’ll get jealous.”

Jaemin scoffs at the idea. As if he could like anyone else but you. It sounded unbelievably pathetic, but you were all he thought about. He wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone.

Even if it made him the running joke to the rest of the houses, he didn’t care. He only desired you.

His blood boils when he sees Shotaro approach your table, cheeks red as he asks to sit down next to you.

“What the hell is he doing?” Jaemin hisses.

Jeno coughs awkwardly. “I heard from Sungchan that Shotaro has a little crush.”

“What?” Jaemin practically yells, causing the rest of his house to shush him.

“Alright, let’s be calm about this,” Jeno says, knowing how irritated his best friend could get. “Jaemin-“

Jeno’s protests are ignored as Jaemin makes his way over to your table. Jeno runs a hand down his face, praying that Jaemin doesn’t make a complete fool out of himself.

You nearly jump out of your seat when you hear your name being called. You glance behind you to see Jaemin.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, not expecting his presence. You fail to notice Shotaro’s shoulders slump in defeat at the sight of the Slytherin. “Hi Nana.”

You pay no attention to Doyeon and Jimin’s raised eyebrows from their positions across from you. Jaemin forces his hands between you and Shotaro, creating enough distance for him to sit in the middle.

“What are we talking about over here?”

Doyeon and Jimin exchange a look before Doyeon speaks up. “Shotaro over here was just talking about going to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Oh? I didn’t even know Hufflepuffs went outside,” Jaemin hums. Doyeon and Jimin cover up their laughs with a cough.

“Hogsmeade trips are for all students,” you mention quietly.

Jaemin smiles at you. “That’s right! I was actually thinking about going to Madam Puddifoot’s, want to join?”

Every student knows that Madam Puddifoot’s is where all the couples go on dates. Since this is the first year you’re allowed to take weekend Hogsmeade trips, you haven’t gotten a chance to see it for yourself. However, the thought of going with Jaemin seemed way too nerve wracking.

“She would love to!” Jimin interjects, shooting you a look.

“Actually, I was going to ask her if she wanted to go with me,” Shotaro says, glaring at Jaemin.

The two boys suddenly engage in a heated staring contest, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Doyeon and Jimin, on the other hand, are thoroughly enjoying watching the current scene unfold.

“Maybe we can all go!” You say in an attempt to ease the tension.

Doyeon’s head hits the table in reaction to your stupidity. Jaemin and Shotaro turn to you with confused looks on their faces. Jimin decides to help you out.

“Actually, I just remembered we promised Minjeong we would meet her at Honeydukes to grab some sweets. Sorry boys, maybe next time.”

You squeak when Doyeon suddenly grabs your arm, and before you know it, you’re being pulled away from the table.

Once you’re out of sight, Jaemin turns to scowl at the Hufflepuff.

“Don’t even think about it. Everyone knows I like her.”

Shotaro scoffs. “Just because you like her doesn’t mean she likes you.”

“Watch it, Hufflepuff.”

“Game on, Slytherin.”

A few minutes of intense glaring occurs until Jeno and Sungchan both rush over to the table, pulling the two boys apart.

—

You’re in your fourth year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the fourth time.

The only difference this year is that you already have a boyfriend. You’ve been dating Shotaro for a couple of months, and everything seems to be going well.

The only bump in the road so far was your friends.

“Listen, I’m just saying that Shotaro is really sweet and nice, but you clearly took the easy way out,” Doyeon complains. “I know that deep down, you like Jaemin more.”

“Doyeon, I really don’t want to hear this again,” you sigh, trying your best to focus on your History of Magic homework.

Doyeon and Jimin brought Jaemin up at least once a week. Ever since you started dating Shotaro, Jaemin took a hint and spent less and less time trying to get your attention. You still noticed his lingering stares here and there, but Shotaro would always try to initiate skinship with you just to remind Jaemin who you were dating.

“What are we talking about?” Jimin asks, plopping down on the couch in the Ravenclaw common room.

“How Jaemin is better than Shotaro,” Doyeon responds.

You frown. “You know, Slytherins aren’t even allowed in here.”

The two Slytherins ignore your protests. “Oh, Jaemin is so much better,” Jimin echoes. “I think she just likes Shotaro because he’s quiet and shy like her. But Jaemin would show her a much better time.”

“Jimin!” You hiss, growing embarrassed by the second. “Can we not talk about this please? I’m dating Shotaro and I really like him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You try not to let their words get to you since you know Doyeon and Jimin love to tease you. The thought of Jaemin still lingers in your mind, however, and Shotaro starts to notice you distancing yourself a week later.

“Are you okay?” He asks apprehensively, almost afraid of hearing the answer. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine!” You try to assure him, ignoring the worried look in his eyes. “I’m just stressed with homework, that’s all.”

He smiles and you can’t help but compare it to Jaemin. Jaemin’s smile is a little brighter and more captivating, always causing your brain to malfunction whenever he grins at you.

“You don’t need to worry. You’re the smartest girl in our year,” Shotaro assures.

You laugh nervously. “Thank you.”

A few moments pass while the two of you are walking down the hallway before Shotaro clears his throat. He seems even more anxious than you.

“Did you hear about the dance they’re hosting this year?”

“Oh,” you hum, thinking about it. You remember Doyeon excitedly chattering the details to you, talking animatedly about what kind of dress she plans on wearing and how she’s going to style her hair. Jimin was equally excited, attempting to also raise your enthusiasm about the event. “Doyeon and Jimin have been mentioning it to me.”

He beams. “Good! I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

You sheepishly stutter. You were honestly planning on skipping the dance in favor of getting a good night’s sleep. Although knowing Doyeon and Jimin, they would never let you ditch.

“S-Sure. That sounds nice.”

Shotaro’s smile extends tenfold, and he leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. You bashfully stare at your feet, avoiding his gaze.

When you relay the information to the two girls later, they’re so excited you agreed to go to the dance that they don’t even mention Jaemin. They eagerly discuss shopping plans and hair and makeup expectations, all while you panic on the inside.

They help you pick out a gorgeous blue gown that hugs your figure, which initially makes you nervous but with a lot of assurances from Doyeon and Jimin, you grow confident in your appearance. The girls do your hair and makeup for you, giggling about how cute you’re going to look.

“If only it was for Jaemin,” Jimin hums while applying your eyeshadow.

“Hey,” you protest softly. “You said you were happy that Shotaro asked me.”

“I am!” She argues. “It’s just that I know Jaemin really likes this color on you.”

“Is that why you picked this out for me?”

When the both of them fail to answer your question, you huff. Your curiosity gets the best of you, however.

“Is Jaemin going with anyone?”

You miss the look Doyeon and Jimin exchange over your head. “I heard he asked out Yizhuo,” Jimin answers.

“Oh,” you mumble. Yizhuo was a Slytherin girl in the same classes as both you and Jaemin, so it would make sense that he asked her. You remember her being very pretty and sweet whenever you got paired for projects together.

Doyeon smiles, sensing your disappointment even though you would never admit it. She presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Just have a good time tonight, my little flower.”

“You know I’m the same age as the both of you. You don’t have to keep acting like my moms.”

You giggle when they suddenly shower you in kisses as a response.

Shotaro perks up when you finally meet him outside of the Great Hall. He’s wearing a blue tie to match your dress, and he kisses the back of your hand in greeting.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, feeling bashful by the attention.

Some of the other houses are stopping to look at you two, murmuring to each other and making you even more nervous. Your breath catches in your throat when you meet Jaemin’s eyes across the room. He’s smiling fondly at you, his emerald green tie matching Yizhuo’s dress.

Your heart sinks a little at the sight of them looking like a perfect pair standing next to one another. Shotaro nudges you out of your trance.

“Ready to go in?”

You nod, mustering your best smile. “Born ready.”

The night, by all means, was a picture perfect fairytale. Shotaro was a perfect gentleman as he led you on the dance floor, with you feeling slightly inferior to his incredible dance skills. You exchanged a few fun twirls with Doyeon and Jimin, giggling to one another in the midst of all the sparkle and flair. Your eyes only strayed a few times to catch the sight of a certain Slytherin boy dancing with his date.

It forces you to excuse yourself to catch your breath. Shotaro offers to go with you but you insist on him staying inside and enjoying himself.

Jaemin later finds you in the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the stars.

He clears his throat to make you aware of his presence, causing you to jump at the sound.

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a chuckle, taking the spot next to you. “I didn’t know I would catch you out here.”

“I just needed a breather,” you murmur, ignoring the fact that his arm is nearly pressed against yours. “It was getting a little stuffy in there.”

“Your boyfriend didn’t want to escort you out?”

If you notice an implication in Jaemin’s tone, you make no show of it.

“No, I told him to stay. He’s a great dancer, I don’t know if you’ve seen it.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” he says under his breath, almost with a hint of jealousy.

You two linger in silence for a bit before he breaks it.

“It would be wildly inappropriate for me to ask you out at this moment, right?”

You blink at him, startled by the sudden question.

“I thought you came with Yizhuo?”

“Yizhuo and I are just friends,” he brushes off. “She didn’t have a date and the girl I wanted had a date of her own already.”

He eyes you carefully and you flush in embarrassment, staring down at your hands.

“Jaemin, you know Shotaro is my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Nana,” you whisper, hoping the nickname will convey exactly what you want to say. To tell him that despite your conflicting feelings, you’re still dating Shotaro and don’t want to hurt him in any way.

He nods in understanding before preparing to take his leave. “Before I go, I just wanted you to know you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You took my breath away when I saw you. Shotaro’s a lucky guy and I hope he knows it.”

You watch pitifully as Jaemin heads back to the dance, ignoring the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.

—

You’re in your fifth year when Na Jaemin’s attempts start to falter for the first time.

You and Shotaro ended your relationship on good terms over the summer, agreeing that the both of you were better off as friends after holding hands started feeling too awkward. When Doyeon and Jimin found out about the amicable breakup, they were quick to get you back on your feet once you voiced your insecurities.

“Maybe it was me? Am I not pretty enough to kiss?”

They both frown, looking more disappointed than you’ve ever seen them.

“You are the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, so I have no idea where this is coming from,” Doyeon shakes her head, combing her fingers through your hair.

You’re sprawled on the floor of their shared bedroom after Jimin found a way to sneak you into the Slytherin dorms.

“You said it yourself that Shotaro and you broke up because it was too awkward. He never told you that you weren’t pretty enough to kiss,” Jimin reminds you.

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “But we just never did what normal couples do, you know? It made me start to think that it was because of me.”

“It could never be because of you,” Doyeon chides. “Besides, if you want to get kissed that bad, I know someone who would be first in line for that chance.”

It rattles you when you automatically know who she’s referring to.

“I heard he got a girlfriend over the summer,” you say quietly.

Jimin scoffs. “You heard wrong. I told you to only get gossip from me, I’m a reliable source. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about said girlfriend.”

The three of you are thoroughly surprised when you catch Jaemin the next day, hand in hand with Hyojung, a fellow Ravenclaw girl.

Jimin curses under her breath and Doyeon scolds her for not being the first one to know this new information. As the couple walk down the hallway, Jaemin’s eyes lock with yours. You both still, almost as if time has stopped in its tracks.

He’s the first one to break it, with Hyojung tugging on his arm and questioning why he suddenly stopped in the middle of the crowd. Your eyes well with tears before you stray from Doyeon and Jimin, finding an empty classroom to wallow your sorrows in.

Why were you so sad? It’s not like you had anything romantic in line for you and Jaemin. After all, you were the one who’s been rejecting him since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts.

You decide to ignore your muddled feelings for most of the first half of the year. Jaemin and Hyojung seem to be going strong and despite Jimin’s endless apologies, you insist that you’re happy for the couple and wish them all the best.

You get paired with Jeno for a Charms project as the winter season approaches. Jeno proves to be a diligent partner, equally dividing work and quietly finishing your portions of the project in the library together.

The question itches at the back of your mind one night, and you can’t stop yourself from asking.

“Jeno, how did Jaemin and Hyojung get together?”

He’s surprised by the inquiry, head tilted in confusion. “Well, their parents are friends and they used to be close when they were younger. They decided to give the relationship a try over the summer to see if it fits.”

You nod and thank him for answering. An hour passes in silence before he bites back.

“Why do you ask?”

You chew on the end of your pencil nervously. “I was curious. They just seemed to get together out of the blue.”

He studies your expression carefully. “You broke up with Shotaro over the summer, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply awkwardly. “We decided it wasn’t a good fit for us.”

He hums in understanding.

The two of you finish your homework session without any more probing questions, and Jeno is fast to locate his Slytherin best friend afterwards.

Jaemin is startled when Jeno almost runs him over outside of the Slytherin dorms.

“What’s up with you?”

Jeno huffs, out of breath from rushing all around Hogwarts in search of him.

“Things with you and Hyojung — they’re not serious, right?”

Jaemin shrugs. “She’s pretty and nice. It’s not a bad relationship.”

“But it’s not a really good one either?”

“I mean, I guess so. Why are you asking?”

“A certain Ravenclaw girl just asked me about you,” Jeno divulges. “She asked me about you, Jaemin. You were far from any topic of conversation and she was the one to bring you up first.”

Jaemin freezes at the revelation. He spent the whole summer trying to forget about you, accepting that you were happy with Shotaro and perhaps Donghyuck was right, he was starting to look pathetic chasing after you. Hyojung’s family came to visit one day in August and after seeing how heartbroken he was, she suggested they begin a relationship to try and get him to move on. He agreed, mainly because his parents always loved Hyojung and he needed to get his mind off of you.

As twisted as it sounds though, Hyojung could never compare to you.

He doesn’t understand why you’ve enraptured him like this, it was just supposed to be a silly crush. He never expected to see flickers of you when he would kiss his girlfriend or think of your laugh when he’s holding someone else’s hand.

He shakes his head from the thought.

“Jeno, I can’t. You know I spent so much time getting over her.”

His friend rolls his eyes. “And how did that work out? You still look like a love struck puppy whenever she walks by and Hyojung is still convinced she can get you to love her. Wake up, dude.”

Jaemin presses the palm of his hands to his eyes, desperately trying to erase the fantasies floating through his head.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I thought I already spelled it out for you. Free Hyojung from her misery and get your girl.”

When Jaemin approaches Hyojung the next day, his heart sinks in his chest as he registers the devastated look on her face.

“What? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assures her. “I just don’t think this is working out. I haven’t been feeling any sparks.”

Her eyes well with tears and Jaemin starts to feel guilty.

“Is this about her? Are you seriously still not over her? We’ve been together for nearly five months, Jaemin!” Her sadness quickly shifts to unadulterated rage, glaring at him and hoping he’ll sink into the ground. “How could you lead me on this whole time?”

“I wasn’t trying to, Hyojung, I swear,” he promises, but they’re clearly empty to the girl in front of him.

“Go fuck yourself, Na Jaemin.”

You find Hyojung crying in the Ravenclaw common room that day. You pause when you see her crumbling on the couch with her best friend, Soeun, comforting her. They scowl when you come into their view.

“There she is, the homewrecker herself,” Soeun sneers at you.

You have no idea why the two girls are suddenly bashing on you. You hold your arms closer to your chest defensively.

“W-What?”

Hyojung stands and approaches you until she’s inches from your face.

“I don’t know why he finds you so special. You’ve never once given him the time of day yet he’ll bend over backwards to have you,” she hisses, expecting the words to sting for you.

You blink. “Who are you talking about?”

She laughs and it’s one of those hollow, maniacal laughs that sends shivers down your spine.

Soeun joins in, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at you condescendingly. “We’re not falling for your little innocent schoolgirl act. You know Jaemin and Hyojung’s parents were already planning their wedding, right? How sick of you to insert yourself into a relationship and break it apart.”

The two girls continue to berate and belittle you until the whole of Ravenclaw is convinced you’re a nasty homewrecker. You leave the common room in tears, finding solace in one of the nearby alcoves.

That’s how Jaemin finds you — sobbing into your hands and feeling the most low you’ve ever felt in your entire Hogwarts stay.