#And I cheered for them for holding on for so long. Now I see green until December and it's sickening

[queers4years]

every time it rains instead of snows in the winter I wanna kms ngl

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part four of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, you could only lie to your brother for so long...

↬ sfw; fluff & angst; wc: 5.4k; cw: suggestive, partial nudity; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

The castle was alive with anticipation, the crisp morning air buzzing with excitement of match day. The first quidditch match of the season, Griffindor versus Slytherin, was to take part today. After breakfast, you would join your team on the pitch and -hopefully- win the game. The first game of the season had always been the most nerve wracking to you, but with the new layer of excitement of playing against your secret boyfriend, you were vibrating with anticipation.

As you made your way towards the Great Hall, the sound of distant cheers and chants already echoed from the grounds outside, early fans eager to secure the best seats. Griffindor red and Slytherin green clashed in waves of color as students of either house swarmed towards breakfast. Though you didn't stick out in your quidditch attire that was as scarlet red as the hats, capes and scarfs of the Griffindor fans, the people who noticed you wished you good luck for the match.

Rounding the corner near the staircase, you nearly collided with Theo, who was casually leaning against the stone wall, his broom slung over his shoulder and his emerald scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. You knew he had been waiting for you when your eyes met. After last night, you had been worried your argument would result in a permanent rift between you, but his eyes lit up when they locked with yours.

“Well well,” he drawled, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If it isn't Gryffindor’s star chaser. Shouldn't you be off practicing some last-minute heroics?”

You pretended to be annoyed rather than filled to the brim with adoration and rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. “Funny. I was just about to ask if Slytherin had finally resorted to bribing Madam Hooch. Seems like the only way you’d stand a chance today.”

Glancing around the deserted booth under the staircase, Theo pushed himself off the wall and strode slowly towards you. You uncrossed your arms to take his hand, and there you stood, brooms in one hand, holding onto each other with the second. Finally, the subtle smile reached Theo’s eyes as he played with your fingers. “You’ll be great today.”

“You too,” you smiled with exhilaration and took a step closer. Your eyes darted around the small space nervously, but there was no one to see you. So you stood on your tip toes and pecked Theo’s lips softly. What you hadn't anticipated was Theo jolting and surging at you, chasing your retreating lips until he had them locked in a soft caress of his own. A surprised moan escaped you and Theo chuckled softly into your mouth. One hand held your jaw still as he kissed you senseless, the other trailed down to toy with the hem of your jersey.

Kisses with Theo were always a careful mix of fervent passion on your part and disciplined control on his. It was no different now, as Theo lead the kiss, caressing all the right places, balancing that perfect combination of tender and dominating. You fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. Suddenly, a cool hand closed around both your wrists, yanking them away and over your hand, making you stumble as your back hit the wall. One of Theo’s hand held your wrists in place over your hand, the other lifted your chin to gain access to your neck.

“Tesoro,” he sighed against your skin, “let me give you a good luck token for the match.” You knew what he meant, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw the hungry look in his eyes. You twitched under his heavy gaze and his eyes grew impossibly darker. “Theo… no one can see.”

When he used his index finger to draw a line down your throat towards your collar bone, he left a row of goosebumps in its wake that he took in with great satisfaction. The soft material of your quidditch uniform gave in to his pull as he exposed part of your cleavage. “They won't,” he promised in an impossibly soft voice. “I’ll do it where nobody can see.”

You could barely hear your whispered “okay” over the thundering of your heart beat. The fear of being caught paired with the thrill of anticipation and his dark, hungry eyes culminated in the uncontrollable beating of your heart against your ribcage, as if it wanted to escape from your body, to seek shelter in the meticulous hands of your lover.

Theo dipped his head down to the exposed skin of your cleavage and left a trail of pecks before he found a suitable spot. Biting down on it, he relished in the little gasp it elicited from you. As Theo worked diligently on perfecting the mark, you slipped your hands from his grip and buried them in his dark locks. In response, Theo let out a small groan and lifted his head, tugging up your jersey with a satisfied little smirk. “Now you’re ready.”

During breakfast at the Griffindor table, you kept tugging at your jersey to a point when Hermoine asked wether you were okay. You stocked it up to performance anxiety. When Harry, Ron, Ginny and you left for the quidditch pitch, several people all over the table patted you on the shoulders. Their shouted wishes of luck followed you all the way out of the Great Hall and down the grounds toward the stadium, where you were joined by the rest of the team.

Harry didn't bother with much of a speech, but after yesterday’s brawl, he seemed determined to wipe the smirk off of Malfoy’s face. A notion you couldn't object to. After revising your strategy, the team stepped out onto the pitch, where the Slytherins and Madam Hooch were already waiting. The hollers and booing of a green and red mass of people drowned out any other noise, like the splatter of rain.

The snowfall of the day before had been replaced by a thick rain that made it almost impossible to see farther than a few feet. Not very favorable conditions. You could barely make out Theo within the midst of the Slytherin players. Harry and Malfoy shook hands with particulars nasty scowls on their faces, before you all mounted your brooms and shot up into the rainy mist above. Madam Hooch released the quaffel, Ginny got a hold of it and the game was on.

It was almost impossible to differentiate between friend and foe when your vision was clouded by rain and mist. Your only reconciliation was that the Slytherins weren't any better off than you. It took at least ten minutes for the first goal by Slytherin that had only succeeded because an exasperated Theo had given up on the attempt to pass the Quaffel around as it would be inevitably lost to the mist or a Griffindor player, and did a lucky solo run, completely catching Ron off guard.

After some more failed attempts from both sides, Ginny finally managed to goal for Griffindor. You as well, a few minutes later, because one of Slytherin’s beaters flew into you full force, vision obstructed by the downpour, and Madam Hooch granted a free kick to you. But soon after that, Slytherin had the lead once more. As the game went on, it became increasingly hard to keep track of the score. Though you were pretty sure your team had earned sixty points, you had no idea how many goals Slytherin had. By now you were shaking and clattering your teeth and your hands felt frozen to your broom. If Harry didn't catch the snitch soon, you’d get frostbite.

Nobody flew in formation or followed strategy anymore. When Theo flew past you with the Quaffel, quickly approaching the rings, you took up the chase. You had lost sight of your third chaser for a while now, but you managed to attract Ginny’s attention, who followed you hot on your heels. Seeking cover, you let yourself drop to a few feet under Theo but did not lessen your speed. Waiting until he was only a short distance away from the rings and raised his hand with the Quaffel to dunk it into one of them, you made a sharp turn upwards.

It was risky, but you played on his protective instincts. Theo sensed an approaching figure and lowered his arm. You, on the other hand, shot towards him perpendicularly and caught him off guard. To avoid a collision which he -other than you- would have been able to pull through, Theo turned his broom in a rapid motion. Ginny used the opportunity to knock the Quaffel out of his hands. You caught it, locking eyes with a startled Theo for a split second, and the two of you set off in the direction of the Slytherin rings.

Steering your broom through green and red flashes, you accelerated your speed. Wherever your beaters were, they were doing a fantastic job, as you and Ginny passed through the Slytherins without any bludgers knocking you off your brooms, passing the Quaffel back and forth. When the rings came into sight, you took the lead, shielded your face against the rain to aim and threw the ball. It hit. But another thing hit, too.

WHAM

A sudden pain shot through your body and your hands slipped off your broom. It was so horrible you must have screamed, but your head and senses were numb and unresponsive. You were vaguely aware that the pain originated from your stomach region. That was all, before your body failed you and you could feel yourself falling into darkness.

“Open your eyes, idiota!”

You snapped your eyes open and the first thing you saw was Theo, hovering over you. Just then, you realized he was holding you in his arms and kneeling on the ground of the quidditch pitch. It could have only been a few seconds you blacked out, but judging by the stings and aching all over your body, as well as the fact you were lying beside the stands, you had knocked into the wooden wall of the stands in your fall, where he must’ve caught you. Oh crap. Theo had caught you.

“Get off!” you hushed, scrambling back to your feet even as pain shot through your body at the slightest movement. A particularly nasty ache made you stumble and Theo caught you once more, frowning at you. “Where does it hurt? Where did it hit you?” Oh, right. It must've been a bludger at last. “Can you hear me?” Theo asked and you registered the worry laced into every syllable. Raw, unconcealed fear.

“Y-yeah,” you gritted through clenched teeth and clawed at your side where the bludger had made its impact. It must've been shot from short distance, because rarely had a bludger hit hurt this bad. “Midriff, left side.”

When his hand brushed over the hurting spot, you let out a whimper of agony and Theo quickly retracted it. If it hadn't been for the pain clouding your mind, you’d have teased him for his visible distress. “Where's my broom?” you choked out and Theo looked at you incredulously. “You’re going to Madam Pomphrey, Tesoro. Now.”

“What?” you exclaimed, vaguely aware of voices approaching. You didn't have much time. “No, Theo, I need to play! One of my chasers has taken off, you’ll win! Wait, is that why you’re-”

“Cazzo , Tesoro,” Theo cursed, sending wary glances to the side. “I don't care about winning, I’ll throw the match with you if that's what it takes.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted your name and Theo’s face hardened as Hermoine reached you, looking concerned and rather disheveled. “Are you okay? Madam Pomphrey is on the way.” Obviously under the impression that Theo was harassing you, she gave him a sinister scowl. “What are you doing here, Nott?”

Theo, who’d settled for a mask of indifference once more, let out a mere “tch”, set you down on the grass with a suspicious precariousness, and reached for his broom when-

“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” the commentator roared and you breathed out a sigh of relief. About time. “GRIFFINDOR WINS!” announced the speakers and even through the slashing and splashing of the rainfall, your ears were thrumming at the hollers and shouts from the Griffindors.

Though you couldn't see them approaching, soft thuds announced the arrival of your teammates around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Theo walk over to his team where he ran into a furious Malfoy, gesticulating heatedly. “Are you okay?” Ginny asked as she and Harry kneeled down to your level. “That damn bludger,” Harry cursed, still holding the snitch. “That Slytherin beater hit you from a few feet distance, Madam Hooch should’ve given him a reprimand!”

“I’m okay,” you assured them and stood up shakily. Hermoine helped you support your weight. “Great job,” you told your brother, ruffling his unruly hair. “I was beginning to think we’d send an imposter in your place.” Even Harry laughed, though he still looked very disconcerted. “What was that guy Nott doing? Did he hex you?”

Oh, most certainly, yes.

“He caught me,” you said in a neutral voice, as if the mere mention of his name didn't have your stomach do cartwheels. Sceptical expressions surrounded you, but they all shrugged it off- all except Ginny. “I’d have gone after you,” she explained apologetically, “But Nott was shooting down like damn lightning and I didn't want to get in the way of that.”

“Weird guy,” you said in an effort to diffuse Hermoine's suspicious look. Harry stepped forward to support your weight, but you let go of Hermoine to demonstrate your walking ability. “I’m fine, I’m okay, just a little bruised up.”

Indeed, none of the others seemed very eager to concentrate on your injuries. Everyone was in the mood for celebration as they changed out of their quidditch robes, already planning the winners party. As they walked out one after the other, you volunteered for cleaning duties, an unpopular job, especially after a won match. “I’ll be there in ten,” you shouted after your brother and Ron leaving for the castle and shut the door.

With a pained groan, you sat down on one of the benches. You hadn't even changed yet, in fear of what you would find on your stomach. Earlier, Madam Pomphrey had cleared you while muttering about the dangers of Quidditch. She had recommended murtlap essence, and you checked the medical closet for it. You found a bottle of the potion and set it down on the bench. The sound of the pouring rain still pelting the roof of the changing room filled the quiet hair as you reached for the hem of your jersey, wincing as your shoulder protested the movement. You thought you were alone- until a quiet knock on the doorframe behind you made you freeze.

“Do you always take this long after a match, or are you just stalling?”

Theo's voice was low, but it carried a certain edge that hindered the casual tone. As you tugged your jersey down in a haste, you spun around to see him leaning against the doorframe. His hair was still damp from the rain, the dark locks were clinging to his forehead. The faintests of smiles tugged at his lips, but it was a little grim, matching the somber look in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you repeated the words you’d been echoing for the last half hour. You hoped a convincing smile would ease his nerves, but his gaze only sharpened when your casual shrug made you wince. “Don't lie to me, tesoro,” Theo said softly, drawing closer to you. He came to a halt and you frowned at the pained look in his eyes. “Bell is a maledetto coglione, Voleva ucciderti? Non hai idea di quanto desiderassi farlo cadere dalla scopa!”

Theo seemed to talk himself into a rage, rambling on in Italian as his careful hands brushed over your chin down your arms, inspecting your bruises and cuts. You wouldn't deny that you loved to hear him talk Italian, especially when his quiet voice was brimming with controlled fury. Fiddling with the hem of your jersey, you searched for his eyes but he didn't meet yours. “Theo?” you asked, locking your fingers so he would stop with his inspection. “Don't put Bell in the hospital wing again, yeah?”

Theo glared at you and freed his hand to guide you down onto the bench. “Take off your shirt.” Even though it was a purely practical request, you felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. You froze for a second, then held onto the hem of your jersey and attempted to pull it over your head, but flinched at the pain. Theo helped you, carefully prying it off of you.

Theo’s hands froze the moment the jersey slipped over your head, leaving your skin bare save for the bruises blooming across your ribs and shoulders. His usual sharp retorts or smirking comments were conspicuously absent as his eyes lingered, first on the angry purple marks and then, almost hesitantly, on the soft curve of your body.

He swallowed hard, his fingers brushing your arm lightly as if unsure where to look or how to act. “You’re… very hurt,” he murmured finally, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, but there was a flicker of something else -something unspoken- flickering in his gaze before he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand. He reached for the murtlap serum, grabbing the air at first attempt before pulling himself together and seizing the bottle and a cloth.

No words were exchanged as he started tending to your bruises, first the large one on your midriff that was the color of an angry red. When his soft fingers, dapped in murtlap essence, touched your skin, you took a sharp inhale and breathed rapidly. Theo could have smothered himself for the lingering of his eyes on your chest. He attempted to keep his focus on you and started treating the bruise.

You felt the relief of pain in an instant and sighed. “Thanks, Theo.” A light grunt was all you got in response, but the tender care of his fingers was answer enough. Though the murtlap was cool, his his touch left you uncomfortably warm and you tried not to squirm under his deft fingers.

The topic of intimacy was still a shy topic in your relationship. You knew his prior liaisons had been primarily sexual. Thus, you avoided the topic, seeing as your experience was almost none next to his. In any of your relationships, you had never gone beyond kissing and making out, and didn't know wether Theo even knew you were a virgin, let alone wether he’d want to have sex with you after hearing it. Theo had never initiated anything either, seeming perfectly content with your relationship as it was. But you couldn't deny the occasional hunger, the daydreams, the not so innocent thoughts.

Theo’s voice caught your attention. His brows were furrowed as he worked on your scratches from the fall. “Should’ve kept looking out for bludgers, cara. Stupid gryffindor recklessness.” When you recognized the worry in his voice, you smiled and ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’ll make sure to do that.” He seemed content and locked your fingers. “Shirt goes on again, tesoro.”

The itching when you pulled your shirt over your head was nothing compared to the pain from before. As your eyes appeared over your collar once more, you saw Theo had stood up and was putting the murtlap essence back to its place of origin with a lot more fuzz than the task required. Maybe it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but he seemed to avert his eyes and avoided to look at you.

Before you could contemplate this, Theo had turned around once more and handed you your cloak. “We should get back to our teams before our absence is noticed.” You would have liked to say something to diffuse the light hint of bitterness in his voice, but Theo gave you a calming smile and was out of the door in an instant. Still, the rain brewed up a symphony on the roof of the changing rooms, but your own thoughts sounded too loud for you to notice.

The Gryffindor common room was a cacophony of sound and color, the flickering firelight mingling with enchanted banners that decked the walls in red and gold. Laughter and cheers echoed from every corner, the victorious chants of your teammates nearly drowning out the music. The smell of butterbeer wafted through the room, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of post-match rain that still clung to everyone’s robes.

You smiled faintly as Seamus led an exaggerated reenactment of the game on a table, nearly knocking over a platter of snacks, but the sheer noise of it all pressed against your temples, leaving you torn between wanting to join the celebration and retreating to somewhere quiet. When Seamus started pulling out fireworks, you slipped out of the room through the portrait hole for a quick withdrawal.

Knowing that some of the others, including your friends, had sneaked down to the kitchens to supply the party with more butterbeer and snacks, you took the path down to the dungeons. Though you tread lightly to avoid detection by Filch or Mrs Norris, the sound of your footsteps echoed of the walls as you hurried down the stairs. It was wonderfully quiet, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Griffindor common room, and you relished in the fresh, cool air that turned more moist the deeper you went.

Just as you were about to turn around a corner, you collided with a hard chest. Your prior speed made you stumble and you fell, closing your eyes and shielding yourself for the impact. It didn't come. Opening your eyes, your were met with the infamous raised eyebrow of Theodore Nott, hovering only inches above you. You could be slapped yourself for the breathless “Hi” that escaped you, but it made his lips curl with cold amusement. “Hello, tesoro, where are you off to in such a haste?”

“Kitchens,” you said sheepishly as he pulled you back up and steadied you on your feet. Theo threw a quick glance around the corridor before he slipped his hands into his pockets and switched to a more relaxed stand. Under his heavy gaze, you played with your fingers, trying not to think about the way he had been looking at you in the changing rooms “I forgot to tell you before, you played good,” Theo complimented you softly.

“Thanks,” you smiled. It was a weird situation. Usually, the two of you only talked like this in secret corridors, abandoned classrooms, locked broom cupboards or the astronomy tower, not out in the open. But it was night, and you supposed it was fine. And even if… You had been contemplating it ever since your argument yesterday. Would it be the end of the world if you just talked to Harry and the others about it? Even if they disapproved, you didn't want Theo to feel like an accessory, and sneaking around was not as fun as you thought.

Theo seemed to sense your thoughts had wandered off elsewhere and stepped towards you until your chests almost touched. When he flicked your forehead, you flinched and swatted his hand away. “Hey!”

“What are you thinking about?” Theo asked in a soft but demanding tone. You sighed. “Nothing.” But Theo was not thrown off the scent so easily. Deliberate hands wandered to your hips as he prepared for the attack, but you were faster. You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down by it and kissed him.

The reaction was immediate. You were pulled flush against his body, his hands roamed under your shirt to your bare back making you shudder. “Jeez, Nott, your hands are ice cold,” you mumbled between kisses, but Theo pushed you back against the wall and seized your lips, swallowing every sound, every whimper that fell from them eagerly. You noticed that he avoided your bruised spots as his hands trailed over your bare skin and couldn't help the rush of affection that surged through you at his care.

“Someone could see us,” Theo muttered into the kiss, but you merely whimpered needily and buried your hands in his soft curls. “Then they see us.” The answer seemed to spur him on. It was as if it had awakened some primal part of him, tucked away behind his usual composure. The kiss turned messy as your lips clashed into each other without the usual rhyme and reason. When your eyes met his for a split second, you saw the dark hunger swirling inside them and breathed in shakily. It only seemed to spur him on even more as his head dipped back down and you felt his thigh coming up between your legs, eliciting a pathetic little whimper from you.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Theo and you surged apart, or rather, you scrambled away and he made sure you didn't trip and fall in your haste to put some space between the two of you. Harry, Ron and Hermoine, as well as some other embarrassed looking griffindors, stood a few feet away from you, having just rounded the corner. Their arms were full of pastries, snacks and bottles of butterbeer and lemonade, safe for Harry's, who seemed to have dropped his load at the sight of you and Theo.

“What's it look like I'm doing?” you asked, chest heaving and hair probably a mess. Glancing at Theo, you saw he had leaned against the wall, watching Harry with sharp eyes. The message was clear. He left it up to you to resolve this, but the second Harry stepped over the line, he was a goner.

Your brother shook his head wildly, as if he couldn't believe what was happening and planned to shake the image out of his memory. He called your name incensedly. “Tell me I didn't just see you snogging Theodore Nott in the dungeons.”

With a quick glance at Theo, you decided it was all in. “Would you rather have me snog him in the astronomy tower?” you asked, a hint of sass creeping into your tone. “Because that's what I've been doing for the last months.” Ron and Hermoine looked at each other incredulously, but Harry looked straight up furious as he kicked the pastries aside to step closer to you. When you saw the look in his eyes and caught Theo's slight movement in the corner of your eye, you suddenly began to worry about an altercation between the two. An altercation that, with all your love for him, Harry had no chances of winning.

Harry had caught Theo’s movement as well and turned to him abruptly. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you’ve got another thing coming.” You could've kissed Theo for remaining where he stood without blinking, leaving it up to you to resolve this. “Look, Harry,” you tried the diplomatical route. “Would you just listen to m-”

“Do you even know who he is? What he stands for?” Harry cut you off. You were hit with the sudden realization that the footsteps of multiple people were drawing closer, and indeed, a group of Slytherins that had been awoken by the sudden noise appeared in the hallway next to you, watching the conflict with great interest. “I know perfectly well-” you tried to answer but again, Harry didn't let you finish. “His father is a death eater! What, does that excite you?”

“Excuse me?” you hissed and saw Theo shift slightly. “Are you even listening to yourself right now, Harry?” But he probably wasn't. Your brother looked just about ready to tear down walls and you began to doubt wether you could even reason with him about this. “That's a horrible thing to say,” you shot back, folding your arms over your chest. “And Theo’s not his father.”

“Theo? Oh yes?” Harry said angrily, ignoring Hermoine tugging at his robes in an effort to calm him down. “He's just as bad as the rest of them, I don't know how you could be this naive!”

“Is it impossible for you to even entertain the possibility that I can look out for myself?” You hadn't realized you were shouting now as well. “Would you, just for one second, consider that I have a mind and a life of my own? That I can be trusted to make decisions in my life without you chiming in and questioning them?” Your breathing was labored and you tried to calm down, lowering your voice. “Why can't you accept that this was my choice, and it's a valid one? Why would you think you know Theo better than me? Do you think I can't trust my judgement, that I'm just a love-sick, hysterical, stupid schoolgirl who can't descipher reality and delusion?”

“Maybe you are!” Harry bellowed and you flinched, a sudden wave of hurt crashing down on you.

“You say that again,” a voice, soft and eerily composed, said, “and you’ll regret it.” The words hung gravely in the air as everyone, including the groups of Griffindors and Slytherins, stared at Theo, stunned by the both deliberate and utterly terrifying tone of his voice. But the speechlessness didn't last long.

“After everything we’ve been through,” Harry hissed at you, hurt brimming in his eyes, “this is how you repay me? By sneaking around with him?” His fists were clenched at his sides and he paid no attention to Hermoine's pleas to just leave.

“This isnt about you,” you breathed, aghast at his nerve, “This is about me. For once, this is just about me! God, Harry, why are you being so self-centered? This has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me!” Harry shouted, stepping even closer. “I just don't get how you could be so stupid! You think he cares about you? He’s a Slytherin- he’s probably using you!” His words were hurtful and they stung worse than the bruises from earlier, but Harry wasn't done yet. “What happens when he gets bored of you? Have you thought about that? If you think Theodore Nott is interested in you, you’re even more naive than I thought.”

You knew he didn't mean it that way. But it still hurt you. This assumption that Theo could never like you for you, could never be interested in you apart from the fact that you were Harry Potter’s sister. That there was nothing about you that made you special, or lovable. That you had no idea what you were doing and no agency of your own. Just a stupid little girl fooling around with something she didn't understand. He was wrong. You told it to yourself over and over in your head as you stared at him silently, watching his anger shift into something else. He was wrong, Theo liked you. Right? But what did he like about you? What was there about you?

You hadn't realized you were crying, you only registered it when Theo himself stepped forward. Apart from the most threatening death glare you had ever seen from him, he didn't attack Harry. His attention was fixed on you, as if he was waiting for your command. But you could only stand there, under the eyes of your classmates, as tears ran down your face.

Harry seemed to realize now what he had said and took a step forward, but you took one back and let out a dry laugh. No words came out. Even if you had some to shoot back, defend Theo or stand up for yourself, they wouldn't have made it past the lump in your throat. Swallowing hard, you took another step back, then another, and before you knew it, you were fleeing up the stairs, ignoring the shouts behind you. You didn't know wether they were directed at you, or Harry, or Theo. You only wanted to get away.

taglist: @annaisabookworm @empath-bunny @k0z3me @slutfordpr @aespaslut @kiarst @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @fakem0net @sammyreid @tulipsc @yasmin-oviedo @lazycrazyme @vratune @mariadvorak

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long��� of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

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Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

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Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

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Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

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“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

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[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 40: good luck

NOTE: another christmas gift hehe 💞 happy holidays everyone <3

PS. i love them (scarayn) your honor :((

You felt a little bad while wishing Kazuha his good lucks when you went with him to the stadium.

Half of the reason was because you felt traitorous wishing him good luck when later, he might find you on the opponent's bleachers. Half of it was because you knew your wishes of luck for you brother were half-hearted — because half of you hoped that your lover could win this time.

You let out a big sigh as you two walked towards his team, which caught Kazuha's attention.

"Why are you sighing like that? You're even more nervous than the one who'd actually play!" He joked, attempting to lighten up your mood.

"I'm not nervous!"

"You are."

"Am not!"

"Are."

You rolled your eyes, having long forgotten the conflict you were feeling just seconds prior. "I told you, I —"

"Captain! There you are!" Venti exclaimed as soon as you and your brother got close enough to them. "Oh, [Name], hi! Long time no see!"

You smiled and waved at them. The team reciprocated your gesture, but you noticed a particular dark green-haired man with golden eyes avoid your gaze.

"Xiao!" You called out. "Good luck!"

He stiffened. At the specific mention of his name, he had no choice but to turn to you. Venti tried to stifle a laugh, but his weird facial expression right now is a proof of his failure.

"You're so cruel," Xiao mumbled. Really, he was finally trying to move on from his suppressed feelings, and now you give him his own 'good luck'?

You are so cruel. And the worst part is that you don't even know.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He managed to flash a small smile. "I said thank you."

"Oh, okay!"

You noticed Venti patting Xiao's back apologetically while still holding back a laugh before you turned away. You started observing your surroundings — Xiao swatting away Venti's hands, your brother occupied by his teammates...

Now was the perfect moment to sneak away.

Making sure you were not seen, you slowly distanced yourself from your own university's varsity team. You put on a white baseball cap, which goes perfectly with your boyfriend's jersey that you've kept perfectly hidden underneath your oversized red jacket.

'Ugh, the lengths I go to!' You complained. 'Why do they belong in different teams?'

If you had known your future boyfriend would be from University of Inazuma's football team, you would have done everything to convince your brother to accept the university's offer after he had passed their entrance examinations.

If he and Kuni were in the same team, would they be friends like your boyfriend is with Heizou and Aether?

Unfortunately, the halls in the stadium were not sufficient to accommodate your musings. Soon enough, you found yourself welcomed by navy blue cheering balloons and bleachers displaying waves of blue with occasional whites — a stark contrast to the abundance of maroon placards and shirts from where you originally came from.

Although being aware that you aren't as popular as your brother, you still feared the possibility of someone recognizing you. You made another effort to lower your cap more as you unzipped your jacket, letting your boyfriend's jersey be visible.

People kept giving you weird glances, perhaps due to your jacket being red despite being in the blue team's wing.

But you couldn't care less.

You wanted to also somehow show support for your brother, even in just small ways.

After faithfully referring to the ticket that Kuni had previously handed you, you soon found the section where you were supposed to be settled in.

A familiar long, braided purple hair demanded your attention right off the bat as you went through the VIP gate. Around her, several men clad in navy blue varsity jackets and a few already in their jerseys were huddled around.

You smiled, admiring how your boyfriend's brows were furrowed. Not in frustration, however. This time, it was in concentration.

As Coach Ei took her time giving her final reminders, you sneakily made your way into your seat, which you noticed was directly right behind a player's seat currently occupied by a very familiar sports bag.

You busied yourself with your phone, first texting your brother and then his friends one final 'good luck'. Your seemingly endless loop of scrolling through your feed then came to a stop as you heard some shuffling.

"Hey."

You looked up, only to see your boyfriend looming over with a grin, one knee kneeling on the seat right in front of you. His right arm resting on the seat's backrest, and the other on his thigh.

"Hey," you breathed.

"My jersey looks the best on you."

"I know," you jokingly replied.

"Don't we all know?" A certain maroon-head butted in. "He's been telling us that nonstop ever since he gave you one of his jerseys!"

"Hi [Name]! Nice to finally meet you," said the sunshine-haired boy. "I'm Aether, Scara's friend. Also a midfielder."

"Hi!"

Kuni's other friend grabbed your hands and shook them aggressively. "Hi [Name]! Nice to finally meet you! I'm Heizou, Scara's friend and a defender. Also the one your brother blocked because he thought I was your boyfriend!"

"What?" Kuni turned to look at you. "Your brother thinks that?"

You laughed. "He does."

A scowl was now plastered onto your lover's face. Heizou, also noticing this, shivered. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Maybe, he should now start preparing for the repetitions his captain would make him do once they finish this game. Maybe, he should take what he said back and tell Scara that it was a lie, and that he was just joking.

"Uhm—"

"They're calling for the players now," Ei announced to the team. When her eyes spotted you, she gave a subtle smile and wave before getting back to work.

Heizou let out a sigh of relief as Aether laughed next to him, the two already heading out to the field.

You placed your attention back to your boyfriend who's still in front of you, still maintaining his position from earlier. His earlier grin was already replaced by a frown, though.

You lowered your cap again.

Scaramouche swore his heart dropped when you cupped his face using both of your hands, gently tugging him closer.

"Why is your face like that, hmm?"

"What? Handsome?" He feigned ignorance.

You smiled. "Well, yes. That's true. But you look annoyed."

"It's nothing."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

You took a quick glance towards his teammates. Seeing as most of them have already left for the field, you knew you had to settle this fast.

"Kuni." You called.

"What?"

You replied with nothing.

Nothing aside from closing the distance between the two of you — eyes closed, skin touching, lips intertwined; deep breaths the only thing audible upon parting.

"You—"

You put your index finger against his lips.

"Good luck!" You grinned.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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TAGLIST I (closed)

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[sugurus-thoughts]

04. cindy lou who

❆pairing — suguru geto x reader!

❆summary — I saw you laughing in one of his pictures But you'll be the one with his ring on your finger There's red and green everywhere, but l'm so blue Cindy Lou Who

❆w/c — 8,48k

❆warnings — nsfw, friends to lovers, jealousy, angst, fluff, smut, touching, MDNI

a/n — this is the longest fic I have ever written I swear. I did not think it would be this long but I certainly got in my feels as I related with the reader. Hopefully you'll stick until the end and read it, I really hope that you enjoy this long fic I honestly put so much into this so, I hope you enjoy!! 🤍🍰(I got to admit I have a soft spot for geto) I was gonna make it a part 2 but it wouldn't make sense honestly.

10 December 2024

The room buzzed with quiet chatter, the hum of conversation floating softly around the group. You sat there smiling, fainting as you always did, content to be near him— Suguru with his effortless charisma and mysterious persona seemed to always brighten the gloomiest days.

He was leaning against the chair with his arms crossed, calm and collected as effort. But then his voice cut through the room, soft but yet so clear that it stopped every sound in the room.

“We're engaged” Suguru announced, his tone soft and his smile uncharacteristically tender.

The words hung in the air for a moment before anyone reacted. Shoko was the first to recover, her sharp whistle breaking the silence. “Finally!” she exclaimed, grinning with excitement.

Saturo clapped Suguru on the back, his laugh loud and infection. “About time man. Congratulations!”

Nanami nodded, offering a polite “Congratulations”, while Haibara beamed with happiness as his usual self ,excitement brimming with every word.

You didn't move. You didn't blink.

Engaged.

The word echoed in your head, bouncing around in the hollow space where your heart had been just moments before. It was a strange feeling, this heavy emptiness, like the floor had been ripped out from beneath you, yet you were somehow still sitting there, rooted to your seat.

Your hands tightened around the edge of your chair, knuckles going white as the smile on your face stayed frozen, the one you always wore when you looked at him—Suguru, who could never see what you’d been hiding all these years.

Two years.

Of course, you knew about her. Of course, you knew they’d been together. You told yourself you were happy for him, that you’d cheer him on from the sidelines like the good friend you were supposed to be. But the word engaged made it real in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

“Y/N” Shoko’s voice dragged you out of your spiral thoughts. You realized everyone was looking at you, waiting for your reaction.

You forced your lips to move, pulling them into something resembling a smile. "That’s... amazing news," you managed, your voice sounding foreign even to your own ears. "Congratulations, Suguru. I’m happy for you."

You didn’t even know if he noticed the slight tremor in your voice. You hoped he didn’t.

Suguru’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the gratitude in his eyes, the warmth of someone who thought you were genuinely celebrating with him. It hurt worse than you expected.

The conversation shifted after that, the others diving into questions about wedding plans and dates. You stayed quiet, nodding along and laughing when it felt appropriate, but your mind was elsewhere.

Years. You’d spent years loving him, dreaming of a moment that would never come. And now you realized that the tiny, flickering hope you’d buried deep inside you had finally been extinguished.

You excused yourself before the first tear could fall, muttering something about needing air. As you stepped outside, the cold evening breeze hit you like a slap, and the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and bitter.

They’d said love was beautiful, but all you felt was the ache of something unspoken, the weight of what could have been, and the sting of words that could never be unsaid.

In the cold night, the snowflakes slowly fall like a weeping willow. In that moment of grief, your tears could only dry down as the cold air buries them as if they were never meant to be seen. You look out into the dark night on the balcony as mountains surround your tiny frame , Switzerland surely was a sight indeed.

To think that you once dreamed of having an all-white wedding with Suguru here, in the same place where your story together had quietly begun. The memory slipped into your mind like a cold breeze, subtle and uninvited, piercing itself together from fragments of the past. You were so young when your families first came here, deciding on a joint holiday in the picturesque Swiss Alps.

Even then, as a child, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Suguru. His shy smile and the way his dark hair stuck out from beneath his knitted hat warmed something inside you, even in the biting cold. That trip had marked the start of what you thought might someday become more a quiet connection that belonged to the two of you.

Over the years, it became a tradition. This snowy haven turned into a cherished secret getaway, first for your families, and then, as you all grew older, for your tight-knit group of friends. The memories blurred together: late nights sitting by the roaring fireplace, voices overlapping as the six of you shared dreams for the future. You and Suguru would always sneak off to steal the last pack of marshmallows, giggling like children as you toasted them over the fire and talked about things that felt too fragile to share with anyone else dreams, hopes, and love.

In those stolen moments, you allowed yourself to dream of his love. You pictured what it might feel like to have him look at you the way he looked at the snowflakes falling softly against the window, with quiet wonder. You dared to imagine a future where you were more than just friends, a future where this place, this beautiful, snow-covered haven, could host an all-white wedding with you and Suguru at the center of it all.

But that dream had shattered the moment he met Cindy. She wasn’t just a passing crush or a fleeting romance—she was everything he had chosen, everything he had committed himself to. The warmth you once felt in his presence now left an ache, a reminder of all that could have been but never would be.

And now, as you stood here again in Switzerland, surrounded by the same breathtaking views that once held so much promise, the memories were sharper than ever. It was no longer just a place of dreams but a place where the reality of loss lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of pine and snow.

Your sudden nostalgic memories were interrupted by the creaking sound from the door behind,you slowly turned around.

Him.

He stood there, slowly his usual relaxed self approached you, softly the heels of his favorite Wyatt Jodhpur boots clicked against the wooden floor. The only sound that could be heard was the door closing behind him, not a word was spoken between the two of you and finally he reached your fragile figure.

The silence was the only thing that held the atmosphere in place.

“It's cold outside, what are you doing here?”, he took off his coat to cover your figure. As if the words just woken you upon a dream you had, you tugged it against your flaying skin. Seemingly you forgot about your earlier meltdown,and for some reason the dark night was hiding your tear stained cheeks.

“The sky looked beautiful, couldn't miss the opportunity” you exhaled softly,like a secret only to hear by the sky itself.

Not once have you dared to look into his eyes, for you knew it would only stir the motions further. You smiled softly as you reached out to catch a few snowflakes, Suguru could only smile at your playful nature.

“Are you going to the Christmas Market Wednesday?” you asked.

A sigh escaped him as his fingers rubbed his temples. “Ah yes I almost forgot, I still need to pick up Cindy from the airport”

Cindy.

The name hung in the air like a bittersweet melody, a reminder of what might have been. She was the woman who had unwittingly stolen the future you had once dared to dream of, a future that now felt as fragile as glass.

“I understand Suguru, you don't have to apologize” a response so dimly that only at night could hear you cry.

You slowly got up from your crouching position and for the first time your eyes met. For a moment it felt like the melancholy of a storm-laden sky, looking into his eyes and they reminded you of the deepest earth crust that no one could understand, but sadly you were reminded that only you were an admirer.

“I'm sorry but I need to go to my room, it's been one….-” slowly you were searching for your words, something that wouldn't give it away. “One memorable night” you smiled up at him.

His smile reached yours, as you tried to mimic his actions. Finally your words cut through.

“I'm so happy for you and Cindy, Suguru. I only wish for the best, for both of you”.

Before Suguru could utter a word you were through the door, leaving him in a timid state of unawareness. You had to leave, you had to get away from him, for he didn't know the way he held you so captive like a bird in a cage,that never saw the day in light. As you walked your way out of the restaurant, you bumped into Shoko.

Her eyes widened slightly as she took in your expression. Shoko had always been perceptive, and tonight was no different.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice carrying concern. "You okay?"

You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, just tired. Long night, you know."

Shoko tilted her head, clearly not convinced but wise enough not to push further. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

You nodded, offering a quiet, "Thanks, Shoko," before brushing past her and stepping into the cold night air.

The walk back to your room felt endless, each step weighed down by the ache in your chest. Memories of Suguru's smile, his laughter, and the way his eyes used to light up when he looked at you played in your mind like a cruel montage. And now, all of that was meant for someone else. Cindy.

Finally, you reached your door, fumbling with the key as your vision blurred with unshed tears. Once inside, you let the facade crumble. The weight of the night hit you all at once, and you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

The sobs came in waves, raw and unrelenting. You cried for what was, for what could have been, and for the pieces of your heart you’d so willingly given to someone who could never see you the same way.

Between the tears, you whispered into the silence, "I just wanted him to choose me... just once."

But the only answer was the stillness of the night, a cold reminder that some stories aren’t meant to end in love.

12 December 2024

The chalet buzzed with excitement as everyone prepared for their outing to the Christmas market. The morning sunlight filtered through the frosted windows, casting a golden glow over the snow-covered peaks. You busied yourself with adjusting your scarf, focusing on the small task to keep your thoughts from wandering.

“Are we all ready?” Shoko called out, her voice cutting through the chatter.

“Just waiting on Haibara, as usual,” Nanami replied, sipping from his steaming coffee mug.

You smiled faintly at the banter, grateful for the distraction. This trip was supposed to be about making memories, about enjoying the company of your closest friends. But as much as you tried to focus on that, a nagging feeling stirred in your chest an ache you’d tried to ignore since last night.

The others finally gathered, bundled up in thick coats and gloves, and you all piled into a couple of cars for the short drive down to the village. The road wound through snowy forests, the trees heavy with frost, their branches forming an archway over the path.

By the time you reached the market, the quaint streets were already alive with the hum of holiday cheer. Wooden stalls lined the cobblestone paths, their roofs dusted with snow. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, and freshly baked pastries.

“Alright,” Gojo said, clapping his gloved hands together. “Let’s split up and meet back here in an hour. Everyone, try not to buy something completely useless.”

The group laughed, and you found yourself relaxing just a bit. But as you turned to follow Shoko toward one of the stalls, a familiar voice cut through the festive noise.

“Suguru!”

You froze, the smile slipping from your face. Cindy’s voice.

Turning slowly, you saw them—Suguru and Cindy walking toward the group. Suguru’s arm was slung casually over her shoulders, her hand resting on his chest as they leaned into each other. Cindy looked radiant in a cream-colored coat, her hair falling in soft waves around her face. She laughed at something Suguru said, the sound warm and light, and he smiled down at her with an ease that felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

You hadn’t expected her to arrive so early. You’d thought you had more time to prepare yourself, to steal your emotions before being forced to face them. But there she was, as if plucked from the pages of some perfect holiday romance, looking every bit the part of Suguru’s fiancée.

“Hey, sorry we’re late!” Cindy said, her voice bubbly as she greeted the group. She gave you a quick hug, her perfume lingering even after she pulled away. “Suguru thought it’d be nice to come early and surprise everyone.”

You forced a polite smile, though your heart felt heavy. “It’s nice to see you, Cindy.”

She beamed. “You too! Isn’t this place magical? Suguru was just telling me about how you all used to come here as kids. It’s so sweet.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, a reminder of the memories you shared with Suguru that now seemed to belong to someone else.

As the group began to move through the market, you found yourself trailing behind, your gaze occasionally drifting to Suguru and Cindy. They were inseparable, holding hands, sharing whispers, laughing together. At one point, Suguru adjusted Cindy’s scarf with a tenderness that made your stomach twist.

“Hey.” Shoko’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. She had fallen back to walk beside you, her sharp eyes studying your face. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak.

She sighed, slipping her arm through yours as the two of you wandered toward a stall selling handmade ornaments. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though you didn’t believe it.

Shoko didn’t press further, but her presence was a comfort nonetheless. As the morning went on, you tried to focus on the market: the glittering lights, the cheerful music, the scent of holiday treats. But no matter how hard you tried, your gaze kept drifting back to Suguru and Cindy, and the realization settled in your chest like a weight: this trip wasn’t going to be as simple as you had hoped.

You told yourself it was time to let go, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t subside.

“Shoko, I'll be back in a bit”, before she could protest you turned into a quieter part of the market, drawn to a small stall tucked away in the corner. The vibrant hues of oil paintings caught her eye landscapes of snowy peaks, quiet villages, and vivid sunsets.

“You have a good eye,” a low, smooth voice said.

You turned, startled, and found yourself face-to-face with a man who could have stepped out of one of the paintings himself. His dark coat was tailored to perfection, his scarf loosely draped over his shoulders. His eyes, a deep, piercing shade, were focused on her with quiet curiosity.

“Oh, I was just looking,” you said, your voice soft as you turned your gaze back to the painting in front of you.

“And now you’re being modest,” he replied with a small smile, stepping beside you. “That one’s my favorite too. The way the light plays off the snow it’s tricky to capture that feeling.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You painted these?”

“I did.” His smile grew, a touch of pride glinting in his eyes. “My name’s Shui. I’ve been exhibiting in Europe for a while now. And you?”

You hesitated. “I’m just... here with friends. We’re visiting for Christmas.”

“Well, whoever your friends are, they’re lucky to have you. You seem to notice details most people overlook,” he said, his voice gentle, as though the words were meant only for you.

The compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks. “I’m not sure about that.”

Shui tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “Tell me, what brought you here? To this part of the market?”

You hesitated. The truth felt too heavy to admit to a stranger. Instead, you shrugged. “I guess I wanted to get away from the noise. This place feels... quieter.”

He nodded knowingly. “Quiet is good. It lets you see things more clearly. Like this.” He gestured toward the painting you had been admiring. “That piece was inspired by a winter I spent alone in the Alps. Sometimes solitude brings clarity.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. There was something grounding about his presence, a quiet strength that made you feel like you didn’t have to pretend.

“You sound like you’ve figured things out,” you said softly.

“Not entirely,” he admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ve learned that the right people and moments come when you least expect them.”

The words hung in the air between the both of you, heavy with meaning. For the first time in days, the weight on your heart felt a little lighter.

Shui’s smile returned, warmer now. “If you’re not in a rush, I’d love to show you a gallery nearby. They’re exhibiting some of my larger works. Call it an artist’s shameless self-promotion.”

You hesitated, glancing back toward the bustling part of the market where your friends were. But the thought of facing Suguru and Cindy again made your heart sink. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” Shui extended his arm. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together, you both walked into the snowy morning , leaving the noise of the market behind. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were stepping into something new, something that didn’t revolve around Suguru.

16 December 2024

Over the next few days, Shui kept appearing inviting you over for coffee, joining you for a quiet walk in the snow. His presence helped you feel seen in a way you haven't before, igniting a sense of independence and hope.

The ice rink shimmered under the warm glow of fairy lights strung above, their golden light reflecting off the smooth, frozen surface. Laughter and the soft sounds of skates gliding over ice filled the air. You found yourself gripping Shui's arm tightly as you wobbled on the blades, trying not to fall for the third time that evening.

“Easy there,” Shui said, chuckling. His hand steadied you, resting gently on your waist. “You’re not bad at this; you just need a little confidence.”

You laughed softly, feeling the tips of your ears burn from both the cold and his touch. “You’re just being nice. I’m pretty sure I’m a danger to everyone on this rink.”

“You’re doing great,” he insisted, flashing you a warm smile that made your heart skip.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru stood at the edge of the rink, leaning against the wooden railing. His dark eyes followed your every movement, the cigarette between his fingers forgotten as it burned down to ash. Each laugh you shared with Shui, every time you leaned into him for support, sent an unfamiliar pang through his chest.

“What’s with the long face?” Shoko appeared beside him, her wine glass still half-full, her sharp gaze cutting straight through him.

“I’m fine,” Suguru muttered, his tone clipped. He exhaled slowly, the smoky patterns of his breath mixing with the cold air.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. She followed his gaze, landing on you and Shui spinning awkwardly on the ice, laughing like children. “They look good together, don’t they?”

Suguru’s jaw tightened, and he looked away. “I guess.”

Shoko smirked, taking a sip of her wine. “You guess? You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

He frowned, the irritation in his chest growing. “Why would I care? She can do whatever she wants.”

Shoko tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’ve been staring at her all night.”

His silence betrayed him, and Shoko’s smirk deepened. She leaned in closer, her voice lowering. “You know what your problem is, Suguru? You’ve spent so long convincing yourself you don’t feel anything for her that you actually started to believe it. But seeing her with someone else? That’s not jealousy, is it?” She paused, letting the words sink in. “It’s regret.”

Suguru’s chest tightened, her words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.

Shoko straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her coat. “Figure it out, Suguru. Before it’s too late.” With that, she walked off, leaving him standing there, his thoughts swirling as heavily as the snow falling around him.

Later during the night, the rink cleared out a bit as the group reconvened, some of them sitting by the edge with hot chocolate while others skated lazily around. Cindy was chatting animatedly with Haibara, completely unaware of Suguru’s distracted state.

You had just stepped off the rink to fix your skates when Suguru appeared beside you, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. His presence caught you off guard.

“You’re getting better out there,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up at him, surprised. “Thanks. Shui’s been helping a lot.”

At the mention of Shui, Suguru’s jaw tightened, though he forced a small smile. “You seem... happy.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I guess I am. It’s been nice.”

He nodded, glancing down at the ice. There was a tension in the air, a silence that felt heavier than it should. Finally, he spoke again. “Can we talk? Just for a second.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. You nodded, following him a few steps away from the group.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, your breath visible in the cold air.

He hesitated, his dark eyes searching yours as though trying to find the right words. “I just... I wanted to say I’ve noticed how different you’ve been lately. With him.”

You blinked. “With Shui?”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah. It’s... good. You deserve to be happy.”

The words felt forced, and you could hear the strain in his voice. Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his warmth cutting through the cold air between you.

“But…” He stopped, his breath hitching. “It’s hard to see you with someone else.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, his words hanging heavy in the air. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as he leaned in slightly, his gaze. His words hung in the air knowingly, as he moved a bit closer,the space so small closing in as your breathing, became much more rigid.

What was this feeling?

Frustration? Guilt? No. This was entirely different. This was pure, unfiltered anger.

For years, you had swallowed your feelings, buried them deep beneath the surface where they couldn’t hurt you—or him. You had watched him love someone else, choose someone else, while you stayed silent, convincing yourself it was better this way. And now, just when you’d started to heal, just when you’d found someone who made you feel seen and whole again, here he was. And for what? To pull you back into the storm you’d barely survived?

Your hand moved before your mind could catch up, the sharp sound of the slap cutting through the cold air. Suguru’s head turned slightly from the impact, his dark hair falling into his face. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even raise a hand to stop you.

“How dare you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “How dare you make me feel like this. After all these years after ignoring me, after choosing her—you think you can just show up and ruin the one thing that’s finally made me happy?”

Suguru turned back to face you, his cheek reddened but his expression unreadable. His dark eyes, however, betrayed him. There was something there—something raw and vulnerable that you didn’t want to see.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Then stop,” you snapped, your voice rising. “Stop doing this. Stop making me feel like I’m losing my mind. You don’t get to do this to me, Suguru. Not now.”

He stepped closer, and you instinctively took a step back, but he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I didn’t realize,” he started, his voice breaking slightly, “how much I was losing until I saw you with him.”

“That’s not my fault,” you said, your voice shaking with anger and hurt. “You don’t get to want me now just because you’re scared of losing me. You made your choice, Suguru. You chose Cindy. And I chose to move on. For fucks sake you're engaged Suguru!”The last sentence cut through him like a blade,almost as if he forgot.

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to stop you from walking away. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could ignore it, that it was just in my head. But it wasn’t. It’s never been in my head, and now it’s too late, isn’t it?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to throw another fiery remark at him, but before you could, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was desperate, almost feverish, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. You froze, every part of you screaming to push him away, but for a moment—just one moment you let yourself feel it. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and it was as though the entire world disappeared.

Reality snapped back like a whip. You shoved him away, your breath ragged as you stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed, your hand trembling as you wiped your lips.

Suguru's lips parted, his dark eyes filled with regret and something else—something you didn't want to name.

"I—" he started, but the words caught in his throat.

Before either of you could say anything else, a voice cut through the icy tension, slicing it in two.

"What’s going on here?"

You froze, your blood running cold as you turned toward the sound. Cindy stood a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze shifting between you and Suguru. Her eyes narrowed, her usually soft features hardening into something unrecognizable.

Suguru immediately straightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face her. “Cindy,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm.

“Don’t ‘Cindy’ me,” she snapped, stepping closer. “I saw it. I saw you kiss her.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach, panic rising like a tidal wave. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, spare me,” Cindy cut you off, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. Her gaze locked on Suguru, her voice shaking with anger. “How long has this been going on? Was this some kind of sick joke between the two of you?”

“It’s not like that,” Suguru said quickly, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. “It just... happened.”

“‘It just happened’?” Cindy echoed, her voice rising. “Are you kidding me, Suguru? We’re engaged! Or did that just ‘happen’ too?”

The group, drawn by the commotion, began to gather nearby. Shoko was the first to approach, her sharp eyes darting between the three of you as she pieced together the scene.

“What’s going on?” Shoko asked, her voice steady but laced with concern.

Cindy turned to her, her voice cracking. “What’s going on is that I just caught my fiancé kissing her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You wanted to disappear, to run and never look back. Instead, you stood frozen, your gaze fixed on the ground as everyone’s eyes turned toward you.

“Cindy,” Suguru said again, stepping toward her. “I know how this looks, but—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. “I trusted you. I believed in us. And this—this is what you do?”

For a moment, Suguru looked utterly lost, his calm facade shattered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“But you did,” Cindy shot back, her voice trembling. “And the worst part? You didn’t even think about me. About us. Not for a second.”

She turned on her heel, walking away before anyone could stop her. The group stood in stunned silence, the festive air of the rink now heavy with tension. Your brimming eyes caught Shui, and your heart broke at the sight.

Shoko was the first to move, stepping closer to you. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

You shook your head, unable to speak. Your gaze flickered to Suguru, who stood there, his shoulders slumped as he watched Cindy’s retreating figure.

“I should go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Shoko nodded, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “I’ll come with you.”

As the two of you walked away, you could feel Suguru’s eyes on your back, the weight of his gaze like a physical pull. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. Not this time.

24 December 2024

The amount of days that has passed and the amount of guilt that surrounded your heart was unbearable. Your eyes swollen from all the tears you've spilled these past few days,are now stained through a soaking wet pillow.

Cindy.

Your mind drifted. The pain in your chest could never compare to the heartbreak she might be feeling now, the weight of guilt still clung to you like a heavy cloak, threatening to drown in despair. You never wanted to be the other woman, never in a million years have you thought of yourself that way,but yet here you are.

The other woman.

A knock was heard from your cosy Swiss Chalet. It was nearly seven—in the morning, who could be here so early?

With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself out of bed and made your way to the door. Opening the door widely, there she stood.

Cindy as perfect as ever, with her long black hair and red lips. The way she looked at you you couldn't tell if it was pure anger or if she felt sorry for you. The silence was erupted, softy by her sweet tone, “May I come in?”.

You nodded as, you opened the door widely for her to enter. The clack of her heels and long brown coat made her look so elegantly, you couldn't help but admire her.

You both seated, in the living room. Not one of you uttering a word so far.

“Cindy.. I-” you interrupted.

“I always knew he loved you”, she whispered as her eyes caught yours. The confession made your heart swell for a moment but yet break for her.

““...he always found reasons to be near you,” Cindy finished softly, her voice cracking just slightly. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the gold bracelet on her wrist, and you could see the weight of her words pressing down on her.

You swallowed hard, guilt surging through you like a tidal wave. “Cindy, I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I never—”

She raised a hand to stop you. “Please, don’t. I’m not here to point fingers or assign blame. I’ve had weeks to process this, and… I’ve come to terms with it.” Her red lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Suguru and I… we weren’t meant to be. I see that now.”

Her words stung more than you expected. You knew she was right; there was no denying the unspoken connection between you and Suguru. But the last thing you ever wanted was to hurt Cindy.

“I broke off the engagement,” she continued, her tone steady but void of the anger you half-expected. “We’ve decided to go our separate ways. It’s for the best.”

“I’m so sorry, Cindy.” Your voice was barely a whisper. “If I could go back, I’d—”

“Don’t,” she said again, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “What’s done is done. Suguru… he loves you. He always has. I just—” She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. “I just hope you’ll take care of him. That’s all I ask.”

You nodded, tears threatening to spill as you reached out to touch her hand. “I promise.”

Cindy stood then, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She adjusted her coat and gave you one last look, her expression unreadable. “Goodbye,” she said simply, and then she was gone, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions.

The door had barely closed behind her when you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you saw Shui standing in the hallway, arms crossed, his face clouded with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

“Shui…” you began, guilt tightening your chest. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You didn’t need to. I saw everything.”

You stepped closer, desperation creeping into your voice. “I’m sorry, Shui. I never meant for you to get caught up in all of this.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to apologize to me. But you should’ve been honest—with Cindy, with Suguru, and with yourself. This didn’t have to end like this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible. “I know I messed up. I’ll fix it, I promise.”

Shui studied you for a long moment before nodding slightly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Just… don’t let Cindy’s sacrifice be for nothing,” he said before walking away, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of everything that had happened.

You sat down on the couch, the silence of the room pressing in around you. Cindy’s words echoed in your mind, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the truth: you had to make things right, not just for Suguru, but for everyone who had been hurt in the process. And this time, you wouldn’t let them down.

25 December 2024

Finally, it was Christmas morning. Suguru busied himself with last-minute touches, his hands steady as he arranged the garlands around the hearth. The soft hum of laughter and chatter filled the room as friends gathered near the twinkling Christmas tree, their faces lit with joy. Despite the warmth and festive air, Suguru's thoughts were elsewhere, swirling with unease and anticipation.

“Suguru,” Gojo’s unmistakable voice broke through his focus. Suguru turned, only to find his friend wearing a knowing grin. “Stop pretending you’re not looking for someone,” Gojo teased, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Suguru opened his mouth to retort, but then his breath hitched. There you were, standing by the doorway, wrapped in a soft sweater and scarf, snowflakes still melting in your hair. The world seemed to still as his gaze locked onto yours for the first time in weeks. A flood of emotions, relief, longing, and something deeper rushed through him as your lips curved into a tentative smile.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping further into the room.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The morning unfolded in a whirlwind of torn wrapping paper, shared laughter, and playful banter. But Suguru’s focus never strayed far from you. When it was his turn, he reached under the tree and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package, his hands trembling slightly as he handed it to you.

“This is for you,” he murmured, his dark eyes watching your reaction intently.

You blinked, surprised, before carefully unwrapping the gift. Inside was a delicate necklace a simple gold chain with a tiny charm shaped like a star. It sparkled faintly under the warm glow of the Christmas lights.

“It reminded me of you,” he admitted, his voice low. “You’ve always been the brightest thing in my life.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and for a moment, you forgot everyone else in the room. “Suguru… it’s perfect. Thank you.”

As the day slipped into evening and the snowstorm outside intensified, the group gradually dispersed, leaving you and Suguru alone by the fireplace. The flames crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Wrapped in a shared blanket, you both sat close, the warmth of the fire chasing away the chill in the air.

“I missed this,” Suguru said, breaking the comfortable silence. He glanced at you, his gaze tender. “Us. Talking. Laughing. Just… being.”

“I missed it too,” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

The hours stretched as you reminisce about old memories—late-night adventures, inside jokes, and moments of unspoken connection. The weight of the weeks apart seemed to dissolve with every shared smile, every stolen glance.

At some point, the conversation lulled, and Suguru tilted his head to look at you. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours. The kiss was slow at first, soft and exploratory, but quickly deepened as weeks of longing poured into the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the firelight danced around you.

“Suguru,” you breathed against his lips, your voice trembling with both desire and uncertainty.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his eyes dark with intent. He stood, pulling you to your feet, and without a second thought, the two of you slipped away into the stormy night.

His room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the snowstorm filtering through the curtains. The air was thick with unspoken words as he guided you inside, his hands warm and steady against yours.

Your skin was greeted by the soft kisses of his lips. There was no worries, no longer the wait that you have spent years on waiting for this man. Finally he had you all to himself.

Your heart pounded as his hands came into contact with your satin shirt. His kisses didn't fail once as the goosebumps seem to appear on your skin. A lowly chuckle could be heard from him as his hands made their way to your breasts only to squeeze them together.

Slowly the remaining clothes you both wore were on the floor. You laid there naked, on this very day just for him. Your voluptuous body made it hard for him to breathe in this now hot room. His now dark eyes ranked over your figure,imagining all the dirty things he can do to you.

Slowly his hands explored your now naked thighs,squeezing the soft flesh. A moan treated to escape your now red lips.

“The way, I used to imagine this, fuck”, his thick voice now clouded with lust. He pulled your now burning body, close the edge of the bed only to get down on your knees.

Never in your dreams have you thought this would happen. Suguru Geto down on his knees for you. His tongues darted out as he finally reached your waters, a low groan escaped his throat just enough to wake your core. The taste of you on his tongue was like heaven itself, a lustful man like himself has finally tasted the meal he most surely has been craving for the longest time

“Oh my-...” the muffled moans that were drawn from your pretty mouth, and your now arched figure was something he could now control. His tongue interned your now tight hole, with this action your hands flung to his long luscious locks.

“Suguru, oh my gosh”, a smirk invaded Suguru’s lips as he finally looked at your face. His one finger slipped in without permission, he slowly pumped the digest, driving you to ecstasy.

“So damn wet, can you hear yourself?” the question came out vaguely as he chuckled,proud of himself was an understatement. He made a mission for you to hear the sounds that escaped your now wet core.

“Suguru, please… ” you moaned louder as he started to go faster,and started licking your clit.

“Oh - Oh-Oh my.. fuck” your hands gripped onto him for dear life as you felt that familiar feeling creeping.

“Did you sleep with him?” What stupid questions was this man asking you? , while you were on the verge of coming. A loud slap could be heard as his one hand came into contact with the soft flesh of your thigh along with a sudden gasp from you.

“Answer me, I asked you a question”, his tone low and demanding as your eyes made contact with him.

“No…. I didn't” the words finally came out in a low cry.

“Good because you, belong to me” he murmured softly to you.

With his fingers so deep in you, his kisses made their way to your breasts only to sucked on your now sensitive nipples. Your breasts bounced slightly the faster his fingers went.His kisses finally reached your ear only to whisper the dirtiest secrets to you.

“Cum for me baby”his voice haled, and just like that he made you feel true ecstasy. His name rolled off your lips as he continued his ministries,until he rode out your orgasm.

The soft rhythm of your breathing filled the quiet space, and Suguru’s dark eyes roamed your face, searching for any hint of hesitation or concern. For the first time, you could truly see him—not just the man in front of you, but the intensity and passion that had always burned beneath the surface. It was overwhelming, almost too much, yet it felt right.

His lips found yours again, slow and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. His kiss carried a tenderness that made your heart flutter, and your hands instinctively cupped his cheek. A smile tugged at your lips as you remembered slapping him not long ago. The irony wasn’t lost on either of you.

His deep voice broke the moment, pulling a laugh from you. “At least I know my girl’s got a mean slap,” he teased, his grin devilish.

“You deserved it,” you shot back, your voice softer but still firm. “For everything you put me through.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his smile deepened, an unspoken acknowledgment that your words were true.

When he kissed you again, it was different. The slow tenderness gave way to something rougher, more urgent. His hands framed your waist as he lowered himself, his body fitting perfectly against yours. The warmth of him, the weight, the unspoken promise—it was enough to make your heart race.

Suguru hesitated, his movements slowing as his dark eyes met yours. He knew your boundaries, understood the reverence you held for yourself and your body. It hadn’t been years for him, but he knew it had been for you—since before you left high school, since the last boyfriend you had allowed close. That thought only made him more careful, more determined to handle you with care.

He pressed his lips to yours once more, a silent reassurance. His touch was reverent, patient, yet full of the fire that only Suguru could bring. He was ready—but only if you were, too.

Your eyes met for the slightest moment before his member stretched you out softly. A low moan could be heard from you as you wrapped your thighs around his hips.

“Fuck, you feel good” he mumbled against your skin kissing your colrbone—sucking on the soft spot to ease the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly he started to pump his member in and out of you stretching, your now tight woman hood just for him.

Your moans didn't go unnoticed by his actions ,as started sucking onto your right nipple.

“You feel that baby?” he asked you as you looked at him. A simple nod and moan slip your mouth.

“Fuck” he cursed underneath his breath. Without a word, you were on your stomach only for him to lift you slowly, pulling your hair slightly as he slid into you again.

“Oh my fuck, Suguru” this position made everything much more pleasant.

A loud slap was heard for the second time that night against your ass, a sign of dominance. You cried out loudly, the stinging feeling bringing a whole new sensation.

“Mine, all mine. It's like you were for me” he repeated his words as you felt his member twitch inside you. You couldn’t help but squeeze around him, only making him hiss at the pleasure.

“Come on baby, I'm close. Fuck” he gave you one last smack as he let go of your hair.

“Suguru I'm close” he hummed at your response and he started going faster and faster. Your second orgasm was finally approaching for the night,the tingling feeling starting to swell up in your core as you felt the way Suguru hit that one spot over and over again.

Finally you came along with him,the feeling of him filling your core with such ease, didn't go unnoticed. Your trembling figure laid out before him, as Suguru milked his way out, making sure none of his seeds go to waste.

The exhausted sound which came from him as he collapsed on top of your now, wet body.

Silence was all that could be heard as you lay beneath him, the storm outside a faint whisper against the windows. Suguru’s warm breath fanned against your skin, and for a moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the intensity of what had just unfolded.

Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he gathered you against him, pulling you into his arms so you rested against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles along your back, grounding you in the moment as you both basked in the quiet intimacy.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of awe. “I never thought this would happen… that I’d have you like this.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I guess Christmas miracles do exist.”

He chuckled, the deep, rich sound vibrating against your ear. “If you’re my miracle, then I must’ve been really good this year.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again, the weight of unspoken emotions finally lifting. Suguru’s hand moved to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch so gentle it sent shivers down your spine.

“Do you regret it?” he asked suddenly, his tone hesitant, as though he feared your answer.

You shook your head, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Not for a second. I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long, Suguru.”

His arms tightened around you, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion.

“You already have,” you whispered, your voice catching as your heart swelled with love.

The storm outside seemed to ease, the wind quieting as if nature itself was giving you this moment of peace. Suguru leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and reassuring.

“You’re everything to me,” he said softly, his dark eyes searching yours. “I want to build a life with you. Whatever happens, I want you by my side.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they were happy ones. “I’m not going anywhere, Suguru. This is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

He smiled, a rare, unguarded expression that made him look almost boyish. “Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive losing you again.”

Nestled together, you both drifted into lighthearted conversation—talking about future plans, inside jokes, and everything in between. Suguru shared stories about his childhood, his dreams, and even the little things he loved about you that he’d never had the courage to say before.

By the time the storm completely passed, dawn was beginning to creep through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Suguru’s arms tightened around you one last time as you both lay there, utterly content.

“Christmas will never be the same again,” he said, his voice laced with affection.

“No,” you agreed, pressing a final kiss to his lips. “It’ll be better.”

And as the morning light filled the room, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of happiness with Suguru by your side.

©suguru's-thoughts 2024, do not copy or translate my work. art work does not belong to me all credit goes out to the the artist. my banners are from the lovely @adornedwithlight!! 🤍

☃︎ taglist — @getobitchs 🍰🤍

a/n — just a reminder I was tired when I wrote the smut part, so there was less passion in my opinion . My writing usually has so much passion in the especially in those scenes I dislike it so much when I write smuts so vaguely :') I'll make sure to make it better when I do the rest of the ingredients for Fruitcake !! 🍰

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Someday

Synopsis: The day of the Knight's Festival has come, and as it comes, secrets are revealed. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess (not so) Secret Relationship, Princess and Aemond thinking of their future, Fluff, PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I'm baaack!

“Seriously, Aemond… you must be more cheerful! You’re acting as if we are welcoming just mere nobles instead of your family, who you had not seen for moons— surely you miss them, do you not?” You sighed as you could feel the quiet contempt in your knight as you two stood by the castle gates waiting for the wheelhouse of House Targaryen. “Now you’re making me wonder if you would react so coldly if you did not see me for a long period of time,” You muttered and straightened your stance as you saw horses in the distance. “I will have no chance to miss you— I’m always by your side.” 

You turned to your sworn protector, who finally spoke after he had held back his tongue the past few days as he had grown quite annoyed with your insistence on inviting his family. He knew you came from a place of love— that you only wished for him to be surrounded by his kin as he was to receive such a great honor, so he held back his words as he did not want to unjustly pour out his grievances on you. 

“Able to speak again, now are we?” You questioned with a raise of your brow as you had practically been speaking to a brick wall days prior. You did not take it to heart as Aemond stayed silent in your presence— he did not ignore you, nor was he indifferent. You understood that he was just reigning in his frustration at your insistence on inviting his family to court. “Look… I’m sorry if I had pestered you with this matter and did not truly take your reluctance to do it seriously. But I just fear that if you do not invite them, you’ll regret it and…” You trailed, not wanting to list your second reason, but Aemond’s lilac eye implored you. “And what, princess?” He questioned as he slyly stepped closer to you. 

“And because I wish to know your family— more about you… I wish to know more about the man I love.” You whispered, and Aemond felt his heartbeat in his ears. Gods, he wanted to kiss you. To pull you flush against him and feel your lips dance their familiar dance. But as you two were exposed to the prying eyes of the court, Aemond could do nothing. He only took a mental note that when you two were once again in the privacy of your chambers, he would need to kiss you and show how much he loved you as well. Aemond took in a deep breath, restraining himself from doing something untoward, settling for the fact that it was him that you loved. Replaying the words you uttered in his mind to sedate himself. 

You placed a pleasing and welcoming smile on your lips as House Targaryen’s wheelhouse came into view, a bit nervous as you would meet Aemond’s family. You waited silently as squires brought out a platform, and the wheelhouse doors opened, revealing a man dressed in fine green fabric with an embroidered gold dragon on his chest. “Brother!” Aemond’s sibling yelled, his words almost in a drunken slur, but as he drew closer to your side and went to embrace Aemond, the smell of wine was prominent enough. “Let go, Aegon,” Aemond gritted as his drunken brother hugged him tightly. “Still resisting affection, I see— though I’m glad you have not changed,” He laughed as you stood by the side, chewing on your inner cheeks to hinder your amused smile. 

Aemond held a look of contempt, but from the side of his eye, he saw you trying to hold back your amused smile. “Princess, my brother, Lord Aegon Targaryen.” Aemond introduced his brother, who only now seemed to realize you were there. His violet eyes widened, and a smirk rose to his lips, a smirk that Aemond knew all too well and was not at all pleased about. “Your Highness,” he bowed and took your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Aemond resisted the urge to pounce on his brother as he had the gull to touch your skin. “Tales of your beauty are not at all lies— now I understand why my brother is so insistent on never leaving his post to pay us a visit,” He smiled, and Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened. You glanced over your knight, unaware that he was requested home and had been using his post as a reason not to leave. You could only smile at his brother as you could not think of a reply.  

Thankfully, the others that housed the carriage came into view. Your eyes first landed upon a woman with auburn hair that was wholly different from Aemond’s and his brother's. “Mother,” Aemond greeted, and you were shocked to find out that a lady who looked so young and with such different features was the woman who birthed Aemond. Aemond was not given a reply, his mother only cupping his cheek. “It’s good to finally see you,” She said quietly and slowly removed her hand from her son’s scarred cheek. You averted your eyes; in truth, you expected Aemond’s mother to show him a touch more affection, but you suppose each person had a different expression to show their love. Surely, you should have known that well by now. 

“Helaena,” Aemond then uttered, a ghost of a smile on his lips that only you could detect. You turned to the last person to exit the carriage, a girl a few years older than yourself with the same features as Aemond and their brother. There was a constant look of sadness in her eyes even though a slight smile was placed on her lips. You smiled as her violet eyes landed upon you, a slight nod of your head as an acknowledgment. “Princess, my mother, Lady Alicent Targaryen, and my only sister, Lady Helaena.” Aemond introduced as the two of them curtsied before you. “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” You smiled charmingly, and you hid your excitement as they returned it. “I’m well certain that you’re all weary from travel; if you’d like, I can escort you to your chambers,” You offered as you glanced towards the squires who unloaded their trunks. “It’s fine, princess; one of the maids could assist them,” Aemond said coldly as he passed his judging gaze towards his brother, who unshamelessly eyed you. 

“Nonsense! These are your most esteemed guests; we shall at least escort them to their chambers,” You say and lift partly the skirt of your dress to turn towards the castle, Aemond, and his kin quickly following behind. 

Aemond looked over you from behind as you walked with his mother and sister, touring them around the castle and introducing them to the other nobilities you passed. He forwent his usual place by your side so he could walk and watch over his drunken brother. “I must say, brother, you made quite a name for yourself even if you had only left home barely a year ago.” Aegon hummed as he followed the gaze of his brother, who was consistently close to the princess. “Could you believe it? A mere second son, set to inherit nothing— threw away the comforts of his life to become an impoverished knight and less than a year later is to be bestowed the highest possible recognition for a knight of the kingdom! My, my, brother… how is that even possible?” 

“If you don’t simply just sit on your ass and drink your weight in wine, anything is possible, brother— even if you are just a second son.” Aemond gritted as you glanced behind and smiled at him, as always. He could never understand how you did that— how, with just your smile, you could make him forget the anger and rage that was always constant in his veins. You had a possibility to calm his mind and body while barely moving— how is that? Aemond breathed out and bit his cheeks; maybe he shouldn’t wonder why and seek the question… perhaps he should just be grateful. 

“I am quite fond of your sister,” you suddenly said as it was only the two of you roaming the halls, having just left his kin to rest in their chambers. “Hm, Helaena is the kindest and most gentle of us… though her shyness does prevent other people from knowing her more,” You nodded and threaded closer to your knight, earnestly trying to dissolve the damned gap. “You’re kin is very much quiet… “ You observed and Aemond felt a smile twitch to his lips. “And I am well certain that that would not be a problem for you… you have a gift for making even the most stubborn and tight-lipped individuals speak— I should know.” You bit your lip and smiled widely at him. 

You and your knight were to proceed to your chambers, but as your name rang out through the halls, Aemond had a remembrance that that scene had happened before. You turned behind you, and your wide smile turned wider if it were possible, quickly holding onto your skirt and running to leap into your half-brother’s arms. Aemond stayed rooted in his spot as you were spun around while in the arms of your half-brother. Resisting the urge to grow jealous as he held you close, reminding himself that he was your brother. “You need to stop coming unannounced! We have not prepared your chambers!” You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm, a cross look on your face. “I’m fine anywhere, cousin. You could place me by the stable for all I care.” He smiled, and you shook your head, glancing behind only to realize your brother had yet to be introduced to your knight. 

“Cousin, this is Ser Aemond— he is to receive the Medal of Valor tomorrow.” You smiled and guided him closer to your knight, who bowed. “I know… everyone has heard of your heroicness in protecting the princess. Congratulations, Ser Aemond.” Your brother smiled, and you turned to Aemond, who looked like he was having difficulty returning it. You widened your eyes and implored him to remember decorum and that his coldness was certainly most unwarranted. “Thank you, my pr— my lor— I mean— thank you, my lord.” You bit your cheeks as your brother raised his brow as Aemond slipped with the deepest secret of your family. “Yes, well… I should find the king. I did promise to meet him the moment I arrived, but I knew you’d prefer to be the first to know that I am here.” You smiled further as your brother placed a chaste kiss on your temple before going about his way, leaving you and Ser Aemond. 

“I really thought you could keep a secret,” You sighed as you two continued on your way back to your chambers. “I can! I—I…” He stuttered and pursed your lips as if you had never witnessed him this flustered. “I got confused! I just noticed how similar he looks like the prince and how you have the same eyebrows,” He defended as he opened the door of your chambers for you. You breathed out a laugh and turned to him, flushing your body as you circled your arms around his neck, him taking the initiative to seal the gap between your lips. 

“You know, you are granted the days off during the feast; why are you still here?” You questioned as you two parted for air, Aemond’s eye still on your lips that had a nice hue of pink and was quick to grow slightly swollen. “Are you complaining?” He questioned as his arms around your waist pulled you closer as if it were still possible. “No, but I do wish you would rest.” You sighed, lowering your gaze as you toyed with the buttons of his armor. “I don’t need rest— I’d rather be with you,” You breathed out a laugh again, he always knew what to say to make your heart still and your knees weak. You smiled and rose to the tip of your toes to place a kiss on his cheek before parting from his arms, but he was quick to pull you back and kiss you again. 

Aemond could go on forever— could spend all of his days with you in his arms and his lips against yours. In fact, he intended on it. However, there was always something that pulled him out of his fantasy, this time, it was the knock on your door. You quickly parted your lips and ran to your sitting area. You took a book into your hands and opened it to a random page, pretending as if you were reading, and Aemond shook his head at how quick you were to act. “Come in,” you say distractedly as the second knock sounded out. 

“Ser Aemond… might you excuse us for a moment?” Your brother asked as he opened the door, your half-brother behind him, waiting for the knight’s response. Aemond glanced towards you, who gave him a nod as you straightened your back. “Of course, my prince,” He bowed, and your brother replaced his presence inside your chambers. Ameond stood closely stood by the door, eavesdropping on the conversation taht was to take place between you and your brother. 

“I hear you’ve been telling secrets,” The prince smirked as he stood before you. “I have not!” You quickly defended, looking in between your brothers. But they only raised a brow at you, a family trait, it would seem. “Fine! But it was only Ser Aemond! And we can trust him… he has been sworn to secrecy!” You defended. “Are your lips swollen?” Your other brother suddenly asked, forgetting the matter at hand. “What?” You felt your heart drop to your stomach. “Your lips… they’re bigger than usual.” He said, but luckily, your other brother intervened. “But why did you need to tell him?” 

You sighed and traced the embroidery of your dress. “He thought brother was a suitor, and it concerned him how all of you just let him walk me back to my chambers without an escort… I had to explain to him the situation and that nothing untoward was afoot,” you reasoned but the prince only shook his head. “Then say that he is our cousin!” 

“Even so! Cousins get married, I had to tell him that he was our brother… and I do not like lying…” you pouted. Your brother sighed and pinched his nose, “You must make sure that no one else knows, and Ser Aemond would not slip up again,” He warned, and you nodded your head fervently. 

You let out a breath as the matter came to a close, but you quickly felt anxious once more as your brother eyed you in question. “Your lips are swollen,” The prince observed, and your fingers consciously covered them. They felt warmer and plumper than usual. “Did you eat anything that does not agree with you?” He asked in concern, turning to your other brother, who had been studying to be a maester in the citadel. “Perhaps, maybe the cooks accidentally added shellfish to my soup,” you fibbed, already contradicting your earlier statement as you lied to your brothers.

“But do you not usually break into a rash when you consume shellfish, sister? That does not explain your swollen lips,” Your other brother remarked, going closer to you, and you traced the embroidery of your dress in nervousness once more. “I—I don’t know, perhaps it has taken into different effects,” You reasoned, and the prince shook his head, “I shall call the maester,” he muttered and moved towards the exit. “What? No!” You protested, not wanting to make a big fuss. 

“Sister, the last time you consumed shellfish, you were itching for a week! Your throat almost closed up— we cannot risk it. Especially when we have the feast later this week, I shall return quickly.” The prince said and quickly left, you only saw a quick glance of Ser Aemond waiting by the door as your brother left before it was closed once again. 

“You’re lying,” Your other brother suddenly remarked as it was only now the two of you. “W-what?” You asked in clear anxiousness. “Why would I lie about such a thing?” You questioned him, trying to be rid of the tone of guilt in your voice. He breathed out heavily and took a seat next to you. “Because you’re hiding something— look, sister, I have been studying the human body for years now, and I have seen all the ailments there are— the swelling of your lips is not at all an ailment.” He remarked, and you had no word of reply or defense as you were on the brink of being found out. 

Your brother sighed at your silence, glancing towards the closed door. “How long?” He questioned, and you took a moment to think about his words. “How long what?” You asked quietly. “Do not even try to deny it, sister… I’ve noticed it ever since the ball— I must say, he is quick to get jealous… which explains why you had to tell him our family secret.” You fisted the fabric of your dress at the knowing tone in your brother’s voice. 

“Tell me, how long?” He questioned again. You debated if you should tell him or deny the allegations. You knew the threat that would come if you told the truth, but at the same time, you were dying to be free of this secret, even if only one person knew. And it would seem it was only fair for your brother to know since you had told Ser Aemond about his own secret. “The day after father’s name day…” you whispered and lowered your head, fearing for his reaction. You hear him sigh. You could not even look at him; there was shame looming inside you, for you had been reduced to sneaking around and stealing kisses with your sworn protector. 

“I will not tell a soul… you have my word, sister.” Your brother then said, making you look up. “Really?” You asked, searching his eyes for any falsehood. He smiled, “You two can trust me— as I trust you both to keep my secret as well,” he said, taking hold of your cold, clammed hands. You let out a breath and embraced your brother tightly. “Thank you, brother. And I truly am sorry for revealing to him your secret,” He shook his head, “It’s fine, sister. But I must warn you to be cautious— overly cautious, in fact. If any of the courtiers came to know… gods forbid, your mother, you’ll be married to the closest lord she sets her eyes on!” You nodded fervently, already knowing the risks if ever you and Ser Aemond were found out. “I know, brother… and we are!” You say, but he only looked at you unconvinced as it was quick for him to realize what was happening between you and your knight. 

“You caught us on a bad day— but I swear, we are extremely cautious.” You defended. “I must say, you do surprise me. I wouldn’t think you would think him agreeable… certainly not enough to win your favor. Overly quiet and cold, and didn’t you say before that the man you wished to marry would have brown, curly hair and warm, kind eyes?” He mused, and you shook your head. “I was a child, brother; outward appearance does not matter much to me anymore, and he only appears as such, but once you get to know him… he’s kind, good-humored, and I…” You trialed. “You love him.” He finished your thought for you. You nodded, “I do.” You confirmed. “It’s easy to see, though it does concern me how easily I have realized it, but the court seems blind to the obvious… especially brother and father— which I suppose works in your favor.” He hummed, and you smiled. At least now you know someone will be on your side when the truth comes out. 

You stood by the right hand of your father as the ceremony began. Knights across the realm line up in order of seniority. Kneeling before your father as he knighted them with their new titles and bestowed them the Medal of Valor. Aemond was at the back of the line, those before him had served the realm for years, yet he had barely a year of service. All clamored before this fact, and you could plainly see the ladies of the realm eyeing your knight, with Ser Aemond being the youngest and, in your opinion, the most comely of all. You felt a persistent twinge of jealousy in you, but you had to disregard it and place a pleasing smile on your lips as it could not be obvious that you and your sworn protector had a deeper understanding, and you did not want to dampen the mood of this joyous day. Your legs were starting to grow tired as you waited for Aemond’s turn, and when there was only one knight between you and him, you straightened your stance and discreetly met his eye. 

As Aemond walked down the aisle, knowing at the end line you were waiting for him, he could not help but fantasize that it could be your nuptials. Even though you two stood at the opposite of the traditional way of a wedding, he disregarded that. He knew in himself that one day, it did not matter how— may it be a grand wedding with the whole kingdom’s eyes upon you two, or may it be a secret ceremony; he would marry you one way or another. He intended upon it, in fact. Everyone be damned, it did not matter that you were the princess and he was only your knight. One day, you two would be man and wife. But, of course, he’d have to wait. He’d wait all his life just as long at the end of it you would be his. 

Aemond smiled to himself as he realized his thoughts. Never had he thought he would act as such. To be so… sappy and sentimental, especially when it came to a girl. But here he was, in less than a year, you had changed him. And he must admit, though it was first an unwelcomed change, he was now quite fond of it. Because if it weren’t for you, he would never know such profound love. 

When it was Aemond’s turn, he bowed before the king and kneeled. You waited for your father to say the words and bestow him his new title and the medal of valor, but his silence made you reluctantly turn away from your knight. “I think it best you do it, my darling… he is your knight, after all,” The king smiled, and your eyes widened at the suddenness of his decision. You glanced towards the hall, expecting gazes planted upon you as your father tried to hand you the sword. “I—I don’t know the words,” You reasoned, still not memorizing the phrases he had repeated the whole afternoon. Your father smiled at you fondly, “It’s fine, I shall recite it once more.” He said, and you hesitantly took the sword and took your father’s place in the middle. Ser Aemond now kneeling before you.

You felt your stomach twist as you could not help but fantasize that this was him kneeling before you as he asked for your hand. Your hand held the hilt of the sword tighter. It was a fantasy that you could only hope and pray that would become your reality. One day. You swore to yourself. One day, I’ll be his, and he’d be mine completely… no more pretense. 

You lifted the sword as your father began to recite the words, but the world faded as you locked with Aemond’s lilac gaze. You tried to tone down your smile as he smirked at you, a devilish smirk that only you knew the reason and meaning of. 

Aemond stood straight as he was knighted with his new title. He watched keenly as the sword in your hand was exchanged for the medal. Aemond’s eye never left your frame as you walked towards him and pinned the medal on his armor. Aemond cursed that this was the only acceptable moment for you two to be so close with the eyes of the realm upon you both. But he let go of any frustrations and decided to savor the ever-so-quick moment. 

As you stepped back, the hall erupted in cheers, but you two were deaf as you both were too consumed with the vision that one day, their cheers would be because of your union. Someday. You both swore. 

[elikajinnie]

The Goblet Of Hate And Suffering - P.S

P: Durmstrang!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @rustymoons <3 (hope you like it!)

Warnings: Angst, Ex-Lovers, Hurt/No Comfort.

Synopsis: The Triwizard Tournament should be thrilling, but not when it means facing your ex, Sunghoon—the boy who vanished from your life without a word years ago.

a/n: okay this really took everything out of me xD i had the movie on replay besides me to keep up xD some things are different though as i had to adapt and not take it fully from the movie.

see request here -- hogwarts au masterlist

--

Hogwarts was, in your opinion, one of the best wizarding schools in the world. How could it not be? You loved everything about it. Being there was like living in a dream, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

This year, though? This year felt special. It wasn’t just any ordinary year—it was the year. The Triwizard Tournament was set to begin, a once-in-a-lifetime event that brought wizards and witches from other schools right into Hogwarts' walls. And if that wasn’t enough to set your heart racing, there was the Yule Ball.

So before the start of the year when your friends invited you to the Quidditch World Cup, you didn’t hesitate for a second to accept the invite. How could you possibly say no?

The moment you stepped into the enormous stadium, your heart had practically leapt out of your chest. It was massive—larger than anything you could have ever imagined, with stands that stretched so high it felt like you could reach out and touch the clouds. And now, as you sat among the sea of cheering fans, the colors of Ireland’s emerald green and Bulgaria’s crimson red swirling together in a chaotic, dazzling display, you could hardly contain your excitement.

The Irish team soared onto the field first, their green robes shimmering in the stadium’s enchanted lights. The leprechaun mascots darted above them, leaving trails of gold sparks in their wake, and you cheered with all your might, your voice nearly getting lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. It didn’t matter, though—you could feel the energy buzzing through you, as if you were part of something monumental.

"Did you see that entrance?" one of your friends shouted over the noise, nudging your shoulder. You grinned, unable to tear your eyes away from the players looping gracefully in formation.

"Brilliant!" you yelled back, clapping so hard your palms stung. "They’re going to destroy Bulgaria!"

“Don’t count Viktor Krum out just yet!” another friend argued, their voice full of competitive glee. “He’s the best Seeker in the world for a reason.” You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing the Bulgarian team take to the skies moments later. Krum himself was a force of nature, cutting through the air with effortless precision. A part of you couldn’t help but admire his skill, though you weren’t about to admit it out loud.

But just as your attention shifted back to the Irish Chasers speeding across the pitch, something else caught your eye—a blur of red robes twisting and flipping through the air in a dazzling display of skill.

You squinted, leaning forward in your seat as the figure effortlessly flipped on their broomstick, narrowly dodging a Bludger before sending it hurtling back across the pitch. The force behind the hit was incredible, and the crowd erupted into cheers as it nearly unseated one of the Irish Chasers. Whoever that was, they were good—too good.

“Who’s that?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the roar of the stadium.

One of your friends leaned in, grinning as they pointed toward the player. “That’s Park Sunghoon! Bulgaria’s star Beater. Isn’t he incredible?”

Your heart stopped.

Park Sunghoon?

No, it couldn’t be.

The name echoed in your mind, dragging you back to memories you had buried long ago. Childhood laughter, stolen glances, the warmth of holding hands under the winter sky—those memories had once meant everything to you. But they’d been shattered just as easily as they were made.

You stared at the figure in the sky, your heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from your chest. Even from this distance, you could make out the sharp features of his face, the way his dark hair was pushed back by the wind, the familiar confidence in every move he made. It was him.

The boy who had left you.

The boy who had broken your heart.

Your hands tightened around the edge of your seat as you tried to steady your breathing. He hadn’t just left—he’d vanished, disappeared from your life without a trace. No goodbye, no letter, no explanation. One day he was there, the next he was gone, and you were left wondering what you’d done wrong.

And now here he was, soaring through the air like he hadn’t once meant the world to you and then destroyed it.

“Are you okay?” your friend asked, nudging you gently.

You forced yourself to nod, though your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely steady. “Just surprised, that’s all. I… I didn’t know he played for Bulgaria.”

Your friend chuckled. “He’s been their Beater for a few years now. A real prodigy, apparently.”

You bit your lip, your gaze never leaving him as he soared through the air, completely unaware of your presence in the crowd. A prodigy. Of course he was. He’d always been talented—good at everything he did. But that didn’t change what he’d done to you.

As the game continued, you tried to focus on the match, on the thrill of the Quaffle being passed and the Bludgers ricocheting through the air. But no matter how hard you tried, your eyes kept drifting back to him.

Park Sunghoon.

The boy you’d once loved. The boy you now hated.

The game went on, but your excitement had dulled, replaced by a heavy weight in your chest. So this was where Sunghoon had been all these years, living a life that seemed as untouchable. You couldn’t help but feel bitter. While you had spent so long trying to pick up the pieces of what he left behind, he had been here, chasing glory.

Your gaze flicked back to him, even though you wished it wouldn’t. You watched as he hit bludger after bludger with perfect precision, his every move calculated and controlled. The way he maneuvered his broom was flawless, almost effortless, as if he were born to be up there.

The crowd roared when he sent a Bludger careening toward one of Ireland’s Chasers, nearly knocking them clean off their broom. Sunghoon didn’t even look back to see if it landed. He just smirked—smirked—like he already knew the damage was done.

That same smirk used to make your heart flutter. Now, it made your stomach churn.

“He’s unbelievable,” your friend said beside you, shaking their head in awe. “You can tell he’s got nerves of steel. Never seen anyone handle a Bludger like that.”

You forced a tight smile, nodding just enough to seem engaged, but your thoughts were elsewhere. It was strange, seeing him again after all this time, yet not entirely surprising. Of course, Sunghoon would end up here, in front of a massive crowd, basking in the spotlight. He’d always been good at standing out, at making people notice him. You just wished you weren’t one of them.

“Why do you look like you’re about to hex someone?” your other friend teased, nudging you with their elbow.

You blinked, realizing you’d been gripping the edge of your seat so tightly that your knuckles had turned white. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice betrayed the lie.

But you weren’t fine. You couldn’t shake the memories of his laugh, his promises, the way he’d told you once—so sincerely—that he’d never leave you. And yet, he had. Without warning, without explanation, he’d vanished from your life like you’d meant nothing to him.

The game’s pace quickened, but you couldn’t focus. Your attention kept returning to him, to the way he moved, so confident and sure of himself. You wondered if he even thought of you anymore. Did he remember the promises he’d made? The summers you’d spent together? Did he ever regret what he’d done, or had he left it all behind as easily as he’d left you?

When the final whistle blew and the game ended with Ireland’s victory, the stadium erupted into cheers. Your friends jumped up, clapping and hollering, but you stayed rooted to your seat, staring blankly at the field as the players descended from the sky.

Sunghoon landed with the rest of the Bulgarian team, his broom slung casually over his shoulder as he laughed at something one of his teammates said. He looked so… unbothered. Like he hadn’t shattered someone’s heart all those years ago. Like he didn’t even know you were there, watching him from the stands.

And maybe he didn’t. Maybe you didn’t matter to him anymore.

After the match, you followed your friends out of the stadium, their excited chatter filling the air around you. They were still buzzing from the game, reenacting their favorite moments and arguing about who had played the best. You forced yourself to smile, to nod along and laugh at the right moments, but your mind was miles away.

By the time you reached the tent you were all sharing, the exhaustion from the day was starting to catch up with you—not just from the excitement of the World Cup, but from seeing him. You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on keeping your friends from noticing that anything was wrong. They didn’t know about Sunghoon. They didn’t know what he’d meant to you—or what he’d done to you.

And you weren’t about to tell them.

“Can you believe that Bludger hit in the second half?” one of your friends exclaimed as they flopped onto their cot, still brimming with energy. “That was insane! I swear, Park Sunghoon almost took that guy’s head off!”

You froze for a moment, but quickly forced yourself to shrug as you started unpacking your things. “Yeah, it was pretty impressive,” you said, keeping your tone light.

“Pretty impressive? That was legendary!” another friend chimed in, throwing their arms up dramatically. “No wonder everyone’s obsessed with him. He’s a total star.”

You laughed softly, though it felt hollow. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re not!” they teased, pointing at you with mock disbelief. “Come on, even you have to admit he’s incredible.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to focus on unrolling your sleeping bag. “Yeah, yeah, he’s talented. Can we move on now?”

Your friends laughed, and thankfully, the conversation shifted to other parts of the game. But even as you listened to them, nodding and adding a comment here or there, your mind kept drifting back to Sunghoon.

What were the odds that he’d be here, of all places? That you’d see him after so many years, so many unanswered questions? You hated how easily he’d managed to worm his way back into your thoughts, how the sight of him had unraveled the carefully built walls you’d constructed around those memories.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your friends asked suddenly, breaking through your haze.

You blinked, realizing you’d been staring blankly at your hands. “Yeah,” you said quickly, offering them a small smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Fair enough,” they said, stretching out on their cot with a yawn. “That match was exhausting to watch, let alone live through.”

You nodded, grateful for the excuse as you turned away and crawled into your sleeping bag. You faced the side of the tent, your back to your friends, and let out a quiet breath.

It wasn’t like you to dwell on the past. You’d worked so hard to leave all of that behind, to move on. But now, with Sunghoon’s name echoing in your head and the memory of his smirk burned into your mind, you weren’t so sure you could.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to fall asleep. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. Because no matter how much your heart ached, you couldn’t let yourself go back to that place. Not after everything.

But one simple thought lingered in your mind: What would you do if you saw him again?

The distant sound of fireworks pulled you from your restless thoughts. At first, you thought it might just be the crowd outside celebrating the World Cup—parties like this often went late into the night. But the noises grew louder, more chaotic, and the muffled sounds of shouting sent a chill down your spine.

You sat up in your sleeping bag, your heart already starting to race. Your friends were still talking and laughing, oblivious to the growing commotion outside. Without saying a word, you crawled out of the bag, brushed past them, and unzipped the tent flap.

The sight that greeted you made your blood run cold.

People were running, their faces pale with terror. Screams echoed through the night, and the sky was lit not with celebratory fireworks but with harsh flashes of green and red. And then you saw them—dark figures in masks and robes, moving through the chaos like shadows of death.

Death Eaters.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were frozen, rooted to the spot as the realization sank in. This wasn’t just some drunken brawl or post-match celebration gone wrong. This was an attack.

You turned back into the tent, your voice urgent and trembling. “We need to go. Now.”

Your friends stopped mid-conversation, confusion flashing across their faces. “What are you talking about?” one of them asked.

“Death Eaters,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “They’re here. Outside. We have to leave!”

The panic in your tone must have convinced them because they scrambled to their feet without another word. The tent was abandoned in seconds as you all spilled out into the chaos.

The campsite was a mess of panic and fear. Tents were collapsing as people fled in every direction. Fires blazed, casting flickering shadows across the ground, and the masked figures moved through the crowd, sending spells haphazardly into the air.

“Stay together!” one of your friends shouted, but it was easier said than done. The crowd was a tidal wave, and you could barely keep track of where anyone was.

You ran as fast as you could, weaving through the mass of people, your heart pounding with every step. You tried to stay close to your friends, but the crowd pushed and pulled at you, dragging you further away.

“Wait!” you called out, but your voice was lost in the din of screams and crackling spells.

A sudden explosion nearby sent you sprawling to the ground, dirt and debris flying into your face. You scrambled to your feet, coughing as you wiped the dust from your eyes. Your friends were nowhere to be seen now—just the chaos of the crowd and the ominous figures of Death Eaters looming in the distance.

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to move. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t freeze. The only thing that mattered now was getting out, finding safety, and praying that your friends had done the same.

--

You, of course, loved when new things happened at Hogwarts. That was why you made sure you had a perfect view of the grand arrivals. You craned your neck along with the rest of the gathered students, excitement buzzing around you.

First came the Beauxbatons carriage, a massive, sky-blue structure that seemed almost too grand to be airborne. Yet there it was, floating gracefully through the sky, pulled by enormous, snow-white horses with wings. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as it descended, landing smoothly on the lawn with an elegance that seemed fitting for the French wizarding school.

You couldn’t help but smile as the Beauxbatons students emerged, their blue silk uniforms shimmering in the light. They moved in perfect synchronization, their grace and poise commanding attention. Even their Headmistress, Madame Maxime, who towered over everyone, carried herself with an air of refined dignity.

But before you could fully admire the carriage’s arrival, the lake began to ripple, the surface breaking apart in shimmering waves.

“The Durmstrang ship!” someone whispered beside you, and all eyes turned toward the water.

The ship emerged slowly, like a great beast rising from the depths, its dark, weathered hull dripping with lake water. It was both eerie and magnificent, its towering masts piercing the sky, flags billowing in the breeze.

Durmstrang students filed out next, their crimson and black uniforms stark against the gray sky. They looked formidable, each of them tall, sharp, and exuding an intimidating confidence. And among them, you noticed Viktor Krum, the Quidditch star, standing out even in the midst of his peers. His presence sent a ripple of whispers through the crowd, but your focus wavered when your gaze caught someone else.

Your breath hitched.

Park Sunghoon.

There he was, standing with the Durmstrang group, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the Hogwarts grounds. His robes fit him perfectly, the deep crimson accentuating his sharp features, and his dark hair was slicked back just like it had been at the Quidditch World Cup.

You froze, every emotion you’d felt at the World Cup flooding back all at once. Shock, anger, and something far more complicated swirled in your chest as you stared at him. He didn’t look your way—of course he didn’t. He probably didn’t even know you were here.

But that didn’t matter. He was here now, at Hogwarts, and there was no escaping it.

“Isn’t this exciting?” one of your friends said beside you, nudging you with a grin. “We’re finally going to meet all these international students!”

You forced a nod, tearing your eyes away from Sunghoon and back to the grand arrivals. But the excitement you’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by a sinking feeling in your stomach.

This was supposed to be your year.

The chatter in the Great Hall was electric as you slipped into your usual spot at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your robe. You tried to focus on the hum of conversations around you, but it was impossible to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest.

Sunghoon was here. He was actually here, walking the same halls you called home.

You tugged at the fabric in your hands, trying to steady your breathing as the hall quieted. Dumbledore rose from his seat, his warm smile spreading across the room as he raised his hands to speak.

“Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts,” he began, his voice carrying easily through the enchanted hall. You leaned back slightly, listening but not fully absorbing the words.

Just as he was finishing his introduction, the doors creaked open, and the sound of hurried footsteps drew everyone’s attention. You stifled a laugh as you saw Filch rushing toward Dumbledore, clutching at his robes like the world was ending.

The two of them whispered hurriedly, and though you couldn’t catch the words, the way Filch waved his arms animatedly made it hard to keep a straight face. After another moment, Filch nodded and scurried back toward the entrance, leaving Dumbledore to clear his throat and return his focus to the students.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling as he looked out over the gathered students, “Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime!”

With a flourish, Dumbledore gestured toward the doors, and they swung open once again. A quiet gasp swept through the hall as the Beauxbatons students entered,they moved in perfect harmony, a vision of elegance and grace, their soft blue uniforms shimmering as butterflies seemed to materialize and flit around them.

Madame Maxime followed, her towering frame commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

But then Dumbledore spoke again.

“And now, our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang! And their Highmaster Igor Karkaroff.”

You felt your pulse quicken as the Durmstrang students made their entrance.

Their movements were sharp and precise, their staffs sparking with flashes of fire and light as they marched in perfect unison. The rhythmic stomp of their boots echoed through the hall, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

And then, at the end of their group, Viktor Krum appeared. His presence sent a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and for a moment, all eyes were on the famous Seeker.

But yours weren’t.

Because walking beside him, just besides Igor Karkaroff, was Sunghoon.

Your heart dropped as your gaze locked on him, even for just a second. He looked composed, his expression calm and unreadable as always, but there was something about seeing him here, in the Great Hall, that made everything feel far too real.

Panic surged through you, and you quickly turned your head away. You couldn’t let him see you. Not now. Not ever.

Your hands clenched into fists under the table, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to steady yourself. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you kept your head low, praying he wouldn’t notice you in the crowd.

The Durmstrang students reached the front of the hall, and Karkaroff stepped forward to greet Dumbledore, but you barely registered the words.

Sunghoon was here.

Luckily, you found yourself seated far away from Sunghoon, who was sitting with the Durmstrang students. Your focus remained on your plate, keeping your head down, eyes fixed on the food in front of you as you tried to ignore the turmoil churning in your stomach. You couldn’t help but steal quick glances at the table near the front where Sunghoon was sitting. His presence seemed to hang in the air, like an unresolved knot that you couldn’t untangle. You turned your head quickly whenever you thought he might notice, trying to appear casual, but your heart was racing.

The chatter around you died down as Dumbledore stood up, his presence commanding attention.

“Your attention, please,” Dumbledore called, his voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. You straightened slightly, curiosity piqued.

He raised his hands, pausing for a moment, allowing the silence to settle in the Great Hall. His voice, when it came again, was full of gravitas.

“I would like to say a few words," he looked around. "Eternal glory,” his words was slow and deliberate, “that is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive. Three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks.”

A murmur rippled through the students at the mention of the danger involved.

“For this reason,” Dumbledore continued, his gaze sweeping the room, “the Ministry has seen fit to set a new rule.”

At that moment, the doors at the back of the hall opened, and a tall, thin man entered—Mr. Bartemius Crouch. He was ushered to the front, where he stood beside Dumbledore.

Mr. Crouch cleared his throat and began to speak. “After much consideration,” he said, “the Ministry has decided that no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to enter the Triwizard Tournament.”

A murmur of surprise and disappointment spread through the hall. Students exchanged glances, some groaning in frustration, others whispering indignantly among themselves. You could see the disappointment on the faces of younger students, especially those who had hoped to be chosen for the Tournament.

The murmurs grew louder, voices rising in protest as the students reacted. You felt a small frown tug at your lips.

But before the murmuring could escalate into full-blown chaos, Dumbledore’s voice rang out, louder and more commanding than ever.

“SILENCE!” he shouted, his tone firm and authoritative.

The hall went quiet in an instant, the only sound now the echo of Dumbledore’s command hanging in the air. Every student seemed to hold their breath, awaiting the next word from the Headmaster. His blue eyes sparkled as he surveyed the room, ensuring no one would dare speak again.

With a swift motion, Dumbledore raised his hand, and there, at the front of the Hall, the Goblet of Fire appeared. A blue flame flickered to life inside it, casting an glow.

“It is from this very Goblet,” Dumbledore said, his voice softer now but no less commanding, “that the champions of the Triwizard Tournament will be selected. If a student wishes to participate, all they must do is write their name on a piece of parchment and throw it into the fire. The Goblet will then choose the most worthy candidates, and their names will be revealed.”

Dumbledore stepped back slightly, and with a flourish, he announced, “And so, I declare that the Triwizard Tournament has begun!”

The next day, after classes, the Great Hall was buzzing with chatter. The Goblet of Fire sat on its pedestal, as students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang gathered around it, their faces alight with excitement as they stepped forward to submit their names.

One by one, students dropped their parchment slips into the Goblet, their expressions a mix of confidence and nerves. You lingered at the edge of the crowd, watching as some strutted forward with exaggerated bravado while others hesitated before tossing their names in.

You had hesitated at first. Surely there was no chance the Goblet would choose you—not when so many others had entered, each with their own skills, talents, and dreams of glory. But something inside you had nudged you forward. You didn’t expect much, but you’d decided to try.

So, slipping through the crowd, you had carefully written your name on a piece of parchment, folded it neatly, and tossed it into the fire. The flames had flared briefly, consuming your name in an instant, before returning to their steady flicker. It was done.

You had just rejoined a group of students who were chatting excitedly about their chances when a wave of murmurs spread through the hall. The sound of heavy boots echoed against the stone floor, and you turned your head toward the commotion.

In came Viktor Krum and Sunghoon, walking side by side, flanked by two other Durmstrang boys you didn’t recognize.

Krum approached the Goblet first, his expression stoic as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment, and dropped it into the flames without hesitation.

Then, with a smirk, Krum turned to Sunghoon, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a gentle shove toward the Goblet. You watched as Sunghoon stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

He pulled out his parchment and stared at it for a moment before tossing it into the flames. The Goblet roared briefly, swallowing his name, and just as he turned to step back, his gaze shifted.

Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes locked onto yours.

For a moment, it felt as though the world had slowed down. His eyes widened slightly, recognition flashing across his face. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

You felt your stomach tighten, heat rising to your cheeks. You quickly huffed, turning away before he could say anything—or worse, before you let your emotions show.

The voices around you blurred as you focused on anything else, anywhere else, willing yourself to calm the storm of emotions threatening to rise.

“Everything okay?” one of your friends asked, nudging you gently.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Just... thinking about the tournament,” you lied, keeping your voice steady.

After some significant time the Great Hall was filled with students as everyone gathered around the Goblet of Fire. You sat down with your friends at the long table, your heart pounding in anticipation. The conversations around you buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself tuning them out, stealing glances at the Goblet instead.

You avoided looking at Sunghoon, though that was easier said than done. He wasn’t sitting far, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. Every time you caught yourself glancing in his direction, your eyes snapped back to your hands, pretending to fiddle with your robes.

"Now," Dumbledore’s voice suddenly boomed, capturing everyone’s attention, "the moment you have all been waiting for—" he paused for effect, "the champion selection."

The hall fell silent, so quiet you could hear the crackle of the Goblet's flames. Dumbledore raised a hand, and as he approached the Goblet, the flames dimmed slightly, casting a faint glow over the room.

Atmosphere. Nice, you thought to yourself, though your stomach churned nervously.

Finally, he touched the Goblet, and with a dramatic flare, the blue fire turned red, roaring upward before spitting out a small piece of parchment. The paper fluttered through the air, and Dumbledore caught it with ease.

He glanced at the name written there, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. "The Beauxbatons champion is... Kim Seon-mi!"

Applause erupted as Seon-mi, a graceful girl with striking features, rose from her seat at the Beauxbatons table. She walked toward the champion area with the poise of someone who had been preparing for this moment her entire life.

The Goblet flared red again, the fire roaring before another parchment was ejected. Dumbledore caught it as effortlessly as before. "The Durmstrang champion is... Park Sunghoon."

Your breath hitched as you watched Sunghoon stand. He walked confidently up to Dumbledore, shaking his hand before moving to the champion area.

You clenched your fists in your lap, focusing hard on anything but him, willing the moment to pass.

The Goblet flared for the third time, the red flames licking upward and spitting out one last piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it and unfolded it carefully.

"The Hogwarts champion is..." A pause, then your name rang through the hall.

Time seemed to stop. Your name echoed in your ears as your friends erupted into cheers around you, patting your back and shouting their congratulations. You sat frozen for a moment, your heart pounding, unsure if you had heard correctly.

"Go on!" one of your friends urged, nudging you toward the aisle.

Slowly, you rose from your seat, your legs trembling beneath you. The eyes of the entire Great Hall were on you, and you felt their weight like never before. The cheering, the clapping, the sheer noise of it all—it was almost overwhelming.

You walked up to Dumbledore, his warm smile offering a sense of reassurance. He extended his hand, and you shook it firmly, though your own hand felt clammy.

"Congratulations," he said softly, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With that, you walked toward the champions’ area, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. As you joined Seon-mi and Sunghoon, you couldn’t help but feel the intensity of Sunghoon’s gaze again, though you refused to meet his eyes.

You were the Hogwarts champion.

Why should you look at him? Why should you give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence after everything he’d done—or rather, everything he hadn’t done?

He had left you. Without a word, without an explanation, without a single ounce of consideration for how much it would hurt. And for years, he had acted like you didn’t exist. No letters. No effort to stay in touch. Nothing.

So, as far as you were concerned, he didn’t deserve even a glance.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift slightly, as if debating whether to say something. But you kept your expression neutral, your posture strong, pretending that the walls was more captivating than his presence mere feet away.

"Congratulations," Seon-mi said, her voice warm and genuine, breaking the silence as she offered you a small smile.

"Thank you," you replied, returning her smile and grateful for the distraction.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything, but you could feel him still looking at you. You clenched your fists subtly, willing yourself to focus on anything but him.

The next day, you found yourself standing awkwardly alongside Sunghoon and Seon-mi in a small corner of the castle grounds. The autumn breeze was crisp, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees and tugging at the edges of your robes. The morning had started off normally enough, but now you were here, lined up like trophies in front of a camera.

The woman in charge of the commotion was someone who had introduced herself with an exaggerated flourish as Rita Skeeter, a reporter for the Daily Prophet. Her bright green robes shimmered in the sunlight, and her perfectly styled hair didn’t move an inch despite the wind. She was, in a word, dramatic.

The camera clicked rapidly as a wiry man darted around you, capturing shots at every angle. Rita stood off to the side, eyeing the three of you with a shark-like smile, her quill floating in mid-air beside her, scratching furiously on a piece of parchment.

“Lovely, just lovely,” Rita cooed, clapping her hands together. “Our three champions, so young, so promising! This will make an excellent story, I can already tell.”

She turned her attention first to Seon-mi, her gaze sweeping over the Beauxbatons champion. “Tell me, darling,” she purred, stepping closer. “What hides in those large, expressive eyes of yours? Is it determination? Fear? Or perhaps… a secret?”

Seon-mi blinked, looking startled by the question but managing to keep her composure. “I’m simply honored to represent my school,” she replied politely, though the corners of her mouth twitched in what might’ve been discomfort.

Rita didn’t linger long on her, however, before turning to you. Her piercing eyes raked over your face, and you felt like you were being dissected under her gaze. She tilted her head slightly, her quill poised mid-scratch as if it too were studying you.

“And you,” Rita said, her voice almost sing-song. “What thoughts swirl behind that composed face of yours? Hmm? Are you confident in your abilities, or is there a storm brewing within you?”

You stiffened slightly, trying not to let her get under your skin. “I’m focused on the tasks ahead,” you said curtly, refusing to give her the drama she was clearly fishing for.

“Oh, how mysterious,” Rita said, her smile widening. “A picture of resolve, aren’t you? Let’s see if we can crack that facade in time.”

Before you could respond, she had already turned to Sunghoon. Her gaze shifted, lingering on him longer than was comfortable. Her eyes sparkled with a kind of glee as she took in his tall frame and broad shoulders.

“And you, my dear boy,” she said, stepping closer and dramatically gesturing to him. “What lies beneath all those muscles, hmm? Confidence? Strength? Or perhaps… vulnerability?”

Sunghoon didn’t flinch under her gaze, but his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “I’m here to compete,” he said simply, his voice even and detached.

Rita clapped her hands together again, clearly delighted by the responses—or lack thereof—from the three of you. “Oh, I love this group already,” she said with a sly grin. “So much potential, so many untold stories. I’m sure the wizarding world will adore reading about you all.”

You exchanged a glance with Seon-mi, who gave you a subtle shrug as if to say, Just go with it.

Rita gestured for the three of you to stand closer together, her quill darting across the parchment as she continued to scribble furiously. “Now, darlings, one last photo—let’s make it dramatic! Look determined, fierce, ready to take on the world!”

The three of you exchanged awkward looks but complied, standing stiffly as the camera flashed.

As soon as the photo session was over, you were quick to step away, eager to put as much distance between yourself and Rita Skeeter as possible.

As you walked away from the chaotic photo session, it wasn`t long before you and Seon-mi started talking.

“She’s absolutely mad, isn’t she?” Seon-mi said, her soft accent lilting with amusement as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “The way she kept digging for drama—it was like she’s writing a novel, not an article.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “What was that about ‘what hides in your eyes’? I thought she was going to suggest some tragic backstory for you on the spot.”

Seon-mi giggled, shaking her head. “And you—‘a storm brewing behind your composure’? Very ominous.”

“She probably thinks I’m secretly plotting world domination,” you replied dryly, rolling your eyes.

However, the sound of footsteps close behind made you aware that you weren’t entirely alone. A glance over your shoulder confirmed it: Sunghoon was trailing behind, just a step or two away, his expression unreadable.

Seon-mi noticed him too, and her laughter faltered slightly as she gave you a questioning look. You didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your robes.

It was clear he wanted to say something. You could feel it in the way he hovered, the occasional shuffling of his feet or the way he opened his mouth slightly, only to close it again without speaking.

You and Seon-mi exchanged another glance, and she arched a delicate brow at you as if asking, What’s this about?

But you weren’t about to indulge Sunghoon, not after everything. If he wanted to say something, he’d have to figure out how to do it himself.

“So,” you said, turning back to Seon-mi and pointedly ignoring Sunghoon’s presence. “How long do you think it’ll take before that article comes out? My guess is tomorrow, and it’ll be something ridiculous like, ‘The Champions: Secrets, Strengths, and Scandals.’”

Seon-mi laughed again, picking up on your determination to brush off Sunghoon. “Oh, definitely. And she’ll probably exaggerate everything we said. I wouldn’t be surprised if she claims one of us is cursed or something.”

“That sounds exactly like her,” you said with a grin.

Sunghoon cleared his throat softly behind you, and for a split second, you almost turned around. Almost. But you stopped yourself, forcing your attention to stay on Seon-mi.

Seon-mi glanced back at him briefly, then looked at you again, clearly curious but not pressing the matter.

Sunghoon shifted awkwardly, his hand brushing through his hair as though he was trying to think of what to say. But you didn’t give him the chance, quickly filling the silence with another comment to Seon-mi.

“She’s probably going to make it worse by adding some dramatic headline about our ‘secrets,’” you said, smirking. “She’ll make it sound like we’re all hiding something dark and mysterious.”

Seon-mi chuckled, though her eyes flickered back toward Sunghoon once more. “Well, I guess we’ll see soon enough. Let’s just hope she doesn’t turn us into some love triangle nonsense. You know how those types of stories go.”

You tensed slightly at her words but quickly masked it with a laugh. “That would be a disaster.”

The day of the first challenge arrived with a chill in the air that seemed to seep into your bones. The castle was alive with an electric buzz, students whispering excitedly in the corridors, the tension palpable. You tried your best to keep calm, but the knot in your stomach was relentless.

You had barely slept the night before, lying awake in your dormitory, imagining all the ways the challenge could go wrong. The uncertainty of what awaited you was maddening. None of the champions had been told what they’d face, only that it would test their courage, skill, and quick thinking.

As you made your way to the champions' tent on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you could feel the weight of every stare from your fellow students. Your friends offered you encouraging smiles and pats on the back, but their optimism felt distant compared to the unease bubbling inside you.

Inside the tent, you were greeted by Seon-mi and Sunghoon. Seon-mi looked nervous but determined, smoothing down her pale blue robes as she offered you a small, reassuring smile. Sunghoon stood off to the side, leaning against the tent pole with his arms crossed, his usual confidence replaced by a subtle tension.

“Good luck,” Seon-mi said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Same to you,” you replied, managing a faint smile.

Sunghoon glanced at you, his lips parting slightly as though he wanted to say something. But you quickly looked away, focusing on the commotion outside as the crowd’s cheers grew louder.

The officials entered, holding three small, crystalline spheres that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

“Champions,” one of them began, their voice steady but commanding. “Your first challenge is a test of wits and resilience. Hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest lies the Labyrinth of Whispers. Each of you must navigate its paths, to retrieve magical relics hidden.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Seon-mi, who looked intrigued but tense. Sunghoon, meanwhile, straightened up, his expression unreadable but his shoulders tense.

The official held up the glowing spheres. “Each of these will serve as your guide and key. They will light your path but will also test your worthiness as a champion. You must keep it with you at all times. If you lose it, you forfeit the task.”

Your fingers brushed the cool surface of the sphere as it was handed to you. It pulsed faintly in your hand, like a heartbeat, and for a moment, you could swear you heard a faint whisper coming from it.

“The Labyrinth is alive,” the official continued. “It will attempt to mislead you, confuse you, and perhaps even turn you against yourself. Stay focused, champions. This task will test not only your stamina but your mind.”

As the crowd roared outside, each of you was led to separate entrances of the labyrinth, its towering hedges twisting and pulsing as though they had a mind of their own.

Standing at the threshold, you glanced down at the sphere, which began to glow softly, casting an eerie blue light over your face.

“Champions, you may enter” the voice announced, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.

The air grew colder the moment you entered, the sounds of the cheering crowd muffled by the dense walls of the maze. The sphere in your hand pulsed gently, its light flickering to guide you forward.

But the labyrinth was nothing like you expected. The paths shifted beneath your feet, the hedges curling and uncurling as if they were alive. Whispers filled the air, faint and unsettling, their words indecipherable but laced with a strange pull that made you want to stop and listen.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus as the sphere brightened, leading you down a path.

The first obstacle came quickly—a swirling mist rose from the ground, obscuring your vision. It shimmered unnaturally, and as you stepped closer, figures began to emerge from the haze.

They were familiar.

Your friends, their faces twisted in fear and accusation. They called out to you, their voices blending with the whispers of the maze. “Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you help us?”

It was an illusion, you told yourself firmly, gripping your wand. But the longer you stood there, the harder it became to move.

The sphere in your hand pulsed sharply, breaking the spell. The mist dissolved, and the figures vanished, leaving you shaken but determined.

Further into the maze, the challenges grew more complex—a riddle spoken by a disembodied voice that demanded an answer before a path would open, a series of enchanted vines that tried to trap you until you cast the right spell to sever them, and a pool of shimmering water that you had to cross without touching it.

And then, just as you thought you were making progress, the maze shifted violently. The path behind you closed, and the hedges ahead twisted into a new formation. You stumbled, clutching the sphere tightly as its glow flickered uncertainly.

You grumbled under your breath, frustration bubbling up as the maze twisted yet again. The hedges seemed to have a mind of their own, changing direction as if to toy with you.

But you didn’t give up. You kept pushing forward, focusing on the gentle pulse of the sphere in your hand. Its glow flickered faintly, as if it was trying to reassure you.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you saw it—there, nestled among the twisting branches of the maze, was a glowing relic. It was an ornate, silver chalice, encrusted with gemstones that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was it—the relic you were sent to find.

You picked it up carefully, feeling its weight in your hand. The moment your fingers touched the cool surface of the chalice, the sphere in your hand pulsed brightly, its light turning a brilliant white. The hedges around you seemed to tremble, and with a sudden, sharp crack, the labyrinth opened up a clear path before you.

A pathway leading directly to the exit.

You couldn’t help but smile as you started walking briskly, the pressure of the maze’s tricks slowly fading away. The light from the sphere illuminated the way, guiding you confidently.

And then, in the distance, you saw it. The edge of the labyrinth. The exit.

You broke into a sprint, heart racing with a mixture of triumph and relief. You burst through the final stretch and out into the open air, the sound of sudden loud applause brusted in the air.

As you caught your breath, basking in the glory, you realized something.

You were the first to make it out of the labyrinth.

“You did it!”

Before you could react, your friends rushed at you, nearly knocking you off your feet as they wrapped you in a tangle of hugs and cheers.

“You were amazing!” one of them exclaimed, shaking your shoulders in giddy excitement.

“First one out? Are you kidding me? That was brilliant! You’re going to crush this tournament!”

You couldn’t help but smile as their words of encouragement washed over you, the sound of their cheers louder than the crowd’s applause.

But then your eyes flickered toward the labyrinth’s exit.

And there he was.

Sunghoon stepped out of the maze, his sphere still glowing faintly in his hand. His dark hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell as he caught his breath.

Your smile faltered.

He scanned the crowd quickly, his eyes landing on you almost immediately. His gaze was sharp, and it made your chest tighten in a way you hated. You could see the faintest trace of something in his expression—surprise, pride, maybe even regret—but you looked away before you could decipher it.

“You okay?” one of your friends asked, noticing your sudden silence.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile back onto your face. “Just tired, that’s all.”

But your heart wasn’t in it anymore.

Even as your friends continued to celebrate around you, patting your back and shouting about how you were destined to win, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Sunghoon’s eyes still lingering on you.

The labyrinth's exit shifted again, and you turned just in time to see Seon-mi stumble out, her sphere glowing faintly as she clutched an ornate relic in her hands. Her face was flushed, her hair slightly disheveled.

“Seon-mi!” you yelled, breaking away from your friends and running toward her.

Her head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and when she saw you running toward her, her lips curled into a tired but radiant smile.

“You did it!” you cheered, throwing your arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. She let out a surprised laugh, nearly dropping her relic as she hugged you back.

“You too!” she said, her voice breathless with exertion. “First place, huh? Absolutely crushing it!”

“Barely,” you teased, stepping back to look her over. “But look at you! That was amazing!”

She let out a small laugh, holding up her relic. “I thought I was done for at least three times in there. That maze is evil.”

“Tell me about it,” you said, shaking your head. “But you made it out—and with style, might I add.”

But then, as the sound of the crowd swelled again, you felt a presence nearby. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Sunghoon standing off to the side, watching the two of you.

His expression was hard to read—somewhere between reserved and contemplative—but his gaze lingered on you just a little too long.

Seon-mi seemed to notice as well, her laughter trailing off as she followed your line of sight. She arched an eyebrow at you, leaning in slightly. “So… what’s the deal with him?”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your attention back to her. “Nothing,” you said, forcing a casual tone. “Let’s just focus on celebrating this, okay?”

Seon-mi gave you a curious look but didn’t press further. Instead, she slung an arm over your shoulder, grinning. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily! Later, I’m getting the full story.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t help but smile.

--

The cool breeze of the courtyard did little to calm the storm of thoughts in your mind as you sat on the stone bench, books and notes spread out before you. You were determined to be as prepared as possible for the next challenge. Your quill scratched furiously against the parchment as you jotted down strategies and possible spells to master.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell over your notes.

“Uhm.. hi” came a familiar voice, soft but hesitant.

You froze for a moment before slowly looking up. Sunghoon stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of his Durmstrang coat, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” you asked curtly, frowning as you set your quill down.

“I just… thought I’d check on you,” he said, his voice steady but tentative. His dark eyes scanned your face, searching for something. “You look good.”

You blinked at him, taken aback for a split second before your frown deepened.

“I look good?” you repeated, scoffing. “That’s what you’re starting with?”

Sunghoon shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s been a long time. I just—wanted to see how you’ve been.”

“How I’ve been?” you echoed, your tone sharp. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms as you fixed him with a glare. “You disappear for years, act like I don’t exist, and now you suddenly care about how I’ve been?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. “I—”

“Save it,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. I’m busy.”

You turned your attention back to your notes, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But instead, Sunghoon stayed where he was, his presence looming over you like an unwelcome shadow.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something that sounded like regret.

You let out a bitter laugh, not bothering to look up at him. “Well, congratulations anyways, Sunghoon. You did a fantastic job of it.”

There was a long pause, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable. You could feel his gaze on you, but you refused to meet it.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance.

You exhaled sharply, your chest tight with emotions you didn’t want to name. Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus on your studies again. You didn’t have time to dwell on the past.

--

You sat at the long table with your housemates, absently picking at your food as they chattered excitedly about the upcoming Yule Ball. The air was full of laughter and bright energy, but you couldn’t shake the distant feeling that seemed to cling to you.

The news had spread like wildfire—people were already planning who they would ask to be their dates. You watched with a faint sense of detachment as a group of boys at the far end of the table gathered their courage, each nervously approaching the girls they had set their sights on. One by one, the proposals were made, and you noticed how the girls blushed, some laughing, others squealing in excitement.

The laughter echoed around you, but you were strangely unaffected. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go—of course, you did—but the thought of asking someone, or even being asked, felt… far away. Maybe it was the pressure of the tournament, or maybe it was something else.

“Are you going to the ball?” someone asked, pulling you back into the conversation.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, probably,” you answered, your voice a little more distant than you intended.

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

You shrugged, not quite knowing how to explain. “I just… have other things to focus on right now.”

Your housemates, seemingly unfazed by your answer, continued on with their talk of dresses and tuxedos, and who they thought would be the first to ask who. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in the midst of all their enthusiasm.

Later in the day you stepped out of the classroom, still absorbed in your thoughts, when a sudden voice pulled you from your reverie. You turned, slightly startled, to see a Durmstrang boy standing there, his posture straight, a confident but friendly smile on his face.

"Excuse me," he said, his accent thick but clear.

You didn't recognize him immediately, but something about his presence stood out—he had an air of quiet confidence that seemed to command attention. He looked at you intently for a moment before extending his hand in a polite gesture.

"I'm Park Jisung," he introduced himself smoothly. "I was wondering... would you be my date to the Yule Ball?"

You blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of the question. Your first instinct was to look around, as though checking for any signs of teasing or mockery, but there was none. The confidence with which he spoke was genuine, and something about his demeanor made you feel less like a spectacle and more like someone he'd truly wanted to ask.

You hesitated for a moment, before realizing you hadn’t even considered asking anyone to the ball.

"Well..." you began, your voice trailing off as you looked him over once more. He was undoubtedly handsome, and you had to admit, there was something refreshing about his approach. It wasn’t shy or hesitant like some others, nor was it awkward. He had simply asked.

You exhaled slowly, smiling faintly. "I’ll admit… you’re the first one to ask me," you said, your tone a little more playful than you intended. "And I guess I like that you’re confident enough to actually do it."

Jisung’s smile widened, clearly pleased by your response. "So, does that mean I have a yes?"

You paused again, just for a second, but the weight of everything else made it hard to focus on anything else. But here was someone who seemed genuine, without baggage.

"Yeah," you said, finally nodding. "I’ll go with you."

Jisung grinned, looking pleased, his expression softening a little. "Great. I’ll make sure you have a good time, then."

You smiled back, feeling a little lighter than before.

--

You stood before the mirror, taking one last look at yourself. The gown you wore was a beautiful shade of deep blue, with delicate silver embroidery that caught the light every time you moved. Your hair was styled elegantly, with soft waves that framed your face, and a delicate sparkle of jewelry adorned your neck and wrists. Despite the reflection staring back at you, a feeling of unease lingered in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t look good—no, you felt pretty, even confident in the gown. But your mind was elsewhere.

Sighing, you turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun. You didn’t want to ruin it by overthinking.

As you made your way to the Grand Hall, your steps quickened, a sense of anticipation growing within you. The music and chatter filled the air as you approached, and just as you were about to enter, you were suddenly ushered inside by none other than Professor McGonagall.

“Ah, there you are,” she said with a kind smile, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You look stunning tonight. Enjoy yourself.”

You nodded, smiling in return, and walked into the hall, where the grand spectacle awaited. The chandeliers glittered above, casting a warm glow on the swirling dancers below, their laughter and joy filling the room.

There, standing near the edge of the floor, was Jisung. He was dressed impeccably, looking every bit the gentleman in his sleek suit. When he saw you, his face brightened, and he gave you a warm smile. He took a step toward you, bowing deeply with a flourish.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his voice genuine and kind. He reached out a hand, and you placed yours in his, letting him gently lead you onto the dance floor.

As the music swelled, Jisung guided you gracefully, his movements smooth and practiced. You couldn’t help but be impressed by how well he moved—he was a good dancer, relaxed, and seemed to know exactly how to hold you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept away, forgetting everything else.

But then, you caught sight of him.

Sunghoon.

And with him was Wonyoung.

Your heart skipped, a flutter of nerves taking over as you saw the two of them talking, laughing together. Wonyoung, the elegant Beauxbatons student you’d gotten to know a little through Seon-mi, was standing so gracefully beside him, laughing at something he had said. She was every bit the picture of poise and beauty. Her long, shiny hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes sparkled with charm as she spoke. It was hard not to admire her—she was one of the most beautiful girls you’d met, and she carried herself with such effortless grace. You had nothing but kindness for her, but seeing them together made your stomach twist in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wonyoung's family was one of the wealthiest in France, and it showed in the way she carried herself—refined, composed, and effortlessly elegant. Everything about her seemed so perfect, and in comparison, you felt almost... ordinary.

You had always tried not to let those insecurities show, but seeing Sunghoon with her, so at ease, made you wonder if you'd ever really meant anything to him at all. You quickly looked away, focusing instead on Jisung, who was still guiding you through the dance with ease.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sensing your change in demeanor. His eyes softened with concern.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just a little distracted, I guess.”

Jisung gave you a knowing smile. “It’s a big night. I can’t say I blame you for having a lot on your mind.”

You let out a breath, grateful for his understanding.

As the night wore on, you allowed yourself to enjoy the dance, the music, and the lighthearted conversation with Jisung. His presence was calming, and his gentleness made it easy for you to forget about the stress that had been gnawing at you. He was attentive without being overbearing, asking questions, and making sure you were comfortable. He never pushed, never rushed. It was a kindness that was rare, and you couldn't help but be grateful for it.

You weren’t thinking about the pressure or the heartbreak—you were just here, in the moment, dancing with someone who genuinely cared.

As the night continued, you found yourself smiling without restraint. Jisung's soft laughter filled the air as he spun you around with grace. And when the song ended, he pulled you gently to a stop, holding your hand as he looked at you, his eyes soft.

"You've got the best smile," he said, his voice low but warm, "It's nice to see you so... carefree."

You blushed, a soft warmth spreading across your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. "Thank you," you said, smiling back at him.

"Anytime," Jisung replied, and his eyes sparkled with genuine kindness.

--

The day of the second challenge had arrived, and despite the tension in the air, you and Seon-mi couldn’t help but find small moments of humor. The two of you sat together, sharing sweets from a small pouch she had brought along.

“These are amazing,” you mumbled, popping another sugary treat into your mouth.

“Right? My mom sends them from home,” Seon-mi said with a proud grin. “I swear they’re the only thing keeping me sane during all this madness.”

You both started snickering as she nudged you with her shoulder, and you nudged her right back. The lightheartedness between the two of you felt like a much-needed reprieve from the stress of the tournament.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Sunghoon standing a short distance away with Krum and a couple of Durmstrang students. They were speaking in low tones, their expressions serious as they seemed to discuss strategy.

But Sunghoon wasn’t paying attention to Krum.

Every so often, his gaze flickered over to where you and Seon-mi were laughing, his brow furrowing slightly as though he was trying to figure out what was so funny.

Seon-mi caught on and leaned closer to you. “He’s staring again,” she whispered, her voice laced with teasing.

You glanced over briefly, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes for half a second before quickly looking away. “Let him,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging as you reached for another sweet.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on there?” Seon-mi asked, her grin mischievous.

“Absolutely nothing,” you said firmly, though the slight edge in your tone made Seon-mi raise an eyebrow.

“Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But if he keeps looking at you like that, I might start thinking he’s got something to say.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing her off. “He can keep whatever he wants to say to himself.”

Just then, a whistle blew, signaling that the champions should gather at the starting line. The lighthearted atmosphere shifted as the reality of the challenge set in, and you exchanged a quick look with Seon-mi.

“Let’s do this,” she said, offering you a fist bump.

You knocked your fist against hers, giving her a small smile. “Let’s.”

The crowd gathered around the edge of the massive lake, buzzing with anticipation as the cold morning air nipped at your skin. You stood with Seon-mi and Sunghoon on the raised platform overlooking the water, your nerves bubbling beneath the surface, though you tried to appear calm.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his long silver beard glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. The murmurs in the crowd quieted as his voice, amplified by magic, rang out clearly across the grounds.

“Champions!” he began, a warm yet commanding tone in his voice. “For your second challenge, you will face one of the most formidable and ancient tests: navigating the depths of the Black Lake.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you could hear a collective gasp ripple through the students behind you. Even Seon-mi shifted nervously beside you.

Dumbledore continued, “Hidden beneath these waters are treasures most precious to you—each chosen specifically for this challenge. Your task is to retrieve these treasures and return them safely to the surface. But beware… the lake holds many secrets, and its creatures are not known for their kindness.”

The mention of creatures sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your face neutral.

“The time limit is one hour,” Dumbledore added, his gaze sweeping across the champions. “Failure to return within this time will result in… unfortunate consequences for what you leave behind.”

The cryptic phrasing made your stomach turn, and you couldn’t help but glance at the still, dark surface of the lake. The Black Lake had always seemed mysterious, but now it felt downright menacing.

“Your wands will, of course, be allowed,” Dumbledore added. “You may use any spell, charm, or potion you’ve prepared to aid you. The challenge begins shortly—champions, prepare yourselves.”

As the crowd broke into excited murmurs, Ludo Bagman stepped up to add his usual theatrical flair. “Ladies and gentlemen! Gather around and make your bets—oh, er, I mean—place your predictions! Who will prevail in this challenge of skill, bravery, and a touch of aquatic ingenuity?”

You barely paid attention to him as you turned to Seon-mi, who gave you a slightly nervous smile. “What do you think they mean by ‘most precious to you’?” she asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your mind racing with possibilities.

Before either of you could speculate further, Igor Karkaroff approached Sunghoon, muttering instructions in his ear. You noticed Sunghoon glance at you briefly before nodding, his jaw tightening.

“You’ll be fine,” Seon-mi whispered, nudging you gently. “We’ve got this.”

You nodded, giving her a small, determined smile. “Yeah, we do.”

The sound of the starting gunshot echoed, and without hesitation, you dove forward. As you leapt off the platform, you muttered the Bubble-Head Charm under your breath, feeling the familiar sensation of the magical air bubble forming around your face just as you hit the freezing surface of the Black Lake.

The cold water wrapped around you like an icy embrace, sending a shiver through your entire body. You pushed through it, forcing yourself to focus. The world beneath the lake was murky, dark, and eerily quiet, broken only by the distant swaying of underwater plants and the occasional darting shadow of a fish.

You kicked your legs hard, propelling yourself deeper into the water. The sunlight above barely penetrated the lake’s depths, leaving everything shrouded in an unsettling gloom. You gripped your wand tightly, its faint luminescent tip acting as your only reliable guide.

Your breath echoed softly within the bubble charm as you swam forward, eyes scanning the seemingly endless expanse of water for any clue to what you were looking for.

The silence was suddenly broken by a ripple of movement far ahead. You squinted, trying to make sense of the shifting shapes in the distance. Were they merpeople? Grindylows? Or worse?

As you swam closer, you felt the water begin to stir unnaturally around you, currents pushing against your path as if trying to steer you away. Ignoring the resistance, you pressed onward, following a faint glow that seemed to pulse ahead of you.

The glow of the archway cast an eerie light on the scene before you, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw the frozen, lifeless forms suspended in the water. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized one of them—Jeongseob. His eyes were closed, his body eerily still, tethered to the rocky floor by a thick strap around his ankle.

Without hesitation, you swam toward him, your heart pounding as you reached for the strap holding him in place.

Out of the corner of your eye, movement caught your attention. Turning your head sharply, you spotted a cluster of merpeople circling nearby, their sharp eyes fixed on you. Their expressions were unreadable, but their tridents glinted threateningly in the dim light.

You huffed, pushing away the unease crawling up your spine, and focused on the strap. Your fingers fumbled with the knot as you tried to release him, but it was tighter than you anticipated. Pulling out your wand, you muttered a quick Diffindo, and the strap snapped cleanly apart.

Grabbing Jeongseob under his arms, you began to lift him when a figure suddenly darted past you, cutting through the water with precision.

Sunghoon.

You froze for a moment, watching as he swam toward another frozen figure—you recognized immediately as Wonyoung. His movements were swift, almost practiced, as he reached her side and inspected the strap binding her.

Sunghoon released her with practiced ease, and with one strong kick, he began swimming upward, her unconscious form in tow.

You snapped back to reality, your grip tightening around Jeongseob as you adjusted his weight. With one last glance at the merpeople, who thankfully didn’t move to stop you, you started your ascent toward the surface.

The water seemed heavier now, the glow from the archway fading the farther you swam. You pushed yourself harder, focusing on Jeongseob’s still form and the faint light of the surface above. Your lungs burned, your muscles ached, but you refused to stop.

When you broke through the surface, gasping for air, the cheers of the crowd were deafening. You swam toward the platform as quickly as you could, hauling Jeongseob out of the water with the help of a few officials.

Turning your head, you caught sight of Sunghoon already on the platform, placing Wonyoung gently on the ground.

The way he looked at her made something twist uncomfortably in your chest, though you couldn’t quite name the feeling. His soaked hair stuck to his forehead, droplets trailing down his face.

You quickly averted your eyes, focusing entirely on Jeongseob, who was coughing and spluttering as he tried to sit upright.

"Hey, take it slow," you murmured, brushing his damp hair out of his face. Relief coursed through you as his breaths steadied. "You're okay now."

Jeongseob gave you a weak smile, his voice hoarse. "I knew you'd save me."

You helped him to his feet, steadying him as one of the mediwizards approached to check on him.

The crowd roared again as Seon-mi broke through the surface, dragging her younger brother along with her. She looked utterly exhausted, but a triumphant grin spread across her face as she hauled him onto the platform. You cheered for her, clapping as she waved in your direction, her relief evident.

"You did amazing!" you called, and she laughed breathlessly, collapsing onto the platform beside her brother.

You could only smile at her.

After that, it seemed like the universe had decided to work against you. Everywhere you turned, Sunghoon and Wonyoung seemed to be there—together.

At breakfast in the Great Hall, you’d glance up from your toast only to see him leaning slightly toward her, talking quietly while she smiled, twirling a strand of her dark hair between her fingers. In the corridors, you’d catch them walking side by side, Wonyoung’s melodic laugh ringing in the air as Sunghoon’s eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

Even during the rare moments you found peace in the library, they’d somehow find their way to a table not too far from you. Wonyoung would whisper something, her delicate hand brushing against Sunghoon’s arm, and he’d lean closer, murmuring back with a small smile that made your stomach churn.

Wonyoung wasn’t the problem, you reminded yourself.

But knowing she wasn’t the problem didn’t make it hurt any less.

Every time you saw them together, it was like a thorn pressing deeper into your chest. You’d tell yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care what Sunghoon did or who he spent his time with. He wasn’t your problem anymore.

Yet, the memories of your shared past refused to fade. The way he used to look at you like that, the way he used to make you laugh until your sides hurt—it all lingered in the back of your mind, taunting you.

"You're staring again," Seon-mi teased you, nudging you with her elbow.

You snapped your gaze away from the corner of the courtyard where Sunghoon and Wonyoung were talking. He was holding something out to her—a book, maybe—and she took it with a grateful smile.

"I wasn’t staring," you lied, biting into the apple in your hand with more force than necessary.

Seon-mi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Sure, and I’m secretly the Minister of Magic."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to engage further.

But even as you tried to brush it off, the frustration bubbled under your skin. It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. It was annoyance. Annoyance that he had the audacity to walk back into your life and act like nothing had happened. Annoyance that he was suddenly everywhere, an unavoidable presence that reminded you of things you’d tried so hard to forget.

You bit down harder on your apple, you silently vowed to keep your focus on the tournament and nothing else. Sunghoon could do whatever—or whoever—he wanted. You had more important things to worry about.

The day of the third challenge arrived, and the anticipation in the air was palpable. The weight of the past challenges hung heavy, and with every passing moment, the dread of what lay ahead only grew. You stood there, in the cold, feeling the slight tremor in your hands as you clasped them together, trying to steady yourself.

The arena was unlike anything you’d seen before—towering stone walls, an eerie silence that almost seemed to press in on you, and the unnatural stillness of the sky overhead. The crowd’s murmurs were distant, but your mind was too focused on the task ahead to truly hear them.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest, the adrenaline starting to kick in. The previous challenges had been difficult, but this one? This one was unlike anything you had ever prepared for. There was no room for hesitation or second-guessing.

“Competitors, step forward,” a booming voice called, pulling you from your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and walked forward with purpose, fighting the nerves that clawed at your insides. This was it. The final challenge.

The stands were packed with eager faces, eyes fixed on you and the other competitors.

Ahead of you stood the final challenge—a labyrinth of twisting hedges, rising walls of thorns that reached high above your head. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, but you focused on the task ahead.

"Your task is simple," the voice of the Headmaster rang out again, "Navigate the maze, retrieve the Triwizard Cup at the center, and return. The maze will change as you progress. Be alert. Be ready."

With a final glance around at your fellow competitors you took a steadying breath, stepping toward the entrance of the maze. The world seemed to fall silent as your footsteps echoed, each one leading you deeper into the unknown.

The first few moments were calm, and you felt your nerves settle as you moved swiftly through the narrow paths. But then, as you rounded a corner, a sudden shift in the maze occurred. The path behind you collapsed, leaving no way to retrace your steps.

You gritted your teeth. No turning back now.

The wind howled through the labyrinth, whistling past your ears as if the very maze itself was trying to disorient you. Every step felt like it led you in circles, the twisting paths all blending together in a maddening blur. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to stay focused.

You clutched your wand tighter, the familiar weight grounding you. With every turn, you muttered spells under your breath, trying to manipulate the maze, hoping to find some way to make it easier, but the labyrinth seemed to grow more chaotic with each passing second. The walls shifted again, and you cursed under your breath as the path you’d just taken disappeared behind you, leaving you with only a narrowing tunnel ahead.

A flicker of light suddenly caught your attention. You turned, heart skipping a beat as you saw the glow of something ahead, faint but undeniable. The Triwizard Cup.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward it, adrenaline pushing you to the limit. But the wind picked up again, this time more violent, the trees around you creaking under the pressure. The air grew heavier, and you had to shield your face against the sharp sting of the gusts.

Just as you thought you were getting closer, a new barrier rose in front of you—a wall of thick, thorned vines, their sharp tips glinting like daggers. You skidded to a halt, barely able to avoid running into them.

Your heart raced as you glanced around, trying to find another way. You reached for your wand, but before you could cast another spell, something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Movement. A shadow darting through the maze. You narrowed your eyes, instinctively reaching for your wand again, but when you looked closer, you realized it wasn’t an enemy.

It was Sunghoon.

You froze for a moment, but there was no time to waste. You had your goal: the Triwizard Cup. You couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now, not when you were so close.

You pushed forward, every muscle in your body screaming, but you couldn’t afford to slow down.

Sunghoon was right behind you now, running just as fast, his dark silhouette cutting through the chaos of the maze. The wind howled, fiercely whipping around you both.

You could hear his footsteps, closer now, like a shadow trailing in your wake. With the wind pushing against you, it felt like an invisible hand was trying to drag you back, but you fought it, forcing your legs to move faster, your heart pounding in your ears. You couldn’t let him win.

The thorns of the maze lashed out like wild creatures, scraping your arms as you rushed past. You barely noticed the pain. All you could focus on was the glowing cup just ahead.

You shot a glance over your shoulder. Sunghoon was gaining on you, his pace matching yours with frightening precision. You swallowed hard, feeling the competitive drive surge through your veins. There was no way you’d let him get there first.

In that instant, the wind picked up again, stronger this time, pushing against both of you with brutal force. It felt like the very maze itself was trying to separate you, to tear you both apart. The gusts howled louder, as if the maze itself had come alive to stop you from reaching the prize.

You pushed through the wind, the air sharp in your lungs, heart hammering against your ribs.

But just as you thought you had gained an edge, the wind howled even harder, and a massive gust swept across the maze. You stumbled, feet slipping beneath you, and you heard Sunghoon’s sharp breath as he took advantage of the opening.

You were neck and neck now, the cup within both of your grasps, but who would get there first?

Your hand reached out, fingers brushing against the golden edges of the cup...

And just like that, it was over.

In a flash, Sunghoon's hand shot out, quicker than you could react, and he snatched the Triwizard Cup from right before you. Your heart sank as you watched him grasp it tightly, his fingers curling around its surface, his expression set in triumph.

For a moment, the wind seemed to quiet, almost as if it too had paused to watch the final moment unfold. You froze, chest heaving, the adrenaline crashing through your body like a wave.

He had won. He had beaten you.

--

You stood there, surrounded by your friends’ supportive words, each one trying to lift your spirits. It helped, in a way. You had made it this far. You had survived the Triwizard Tournament’s challenges, something that not everyone could say. You had won the first challenge, and that counted for something.

But as the cheers echoed around you, you couldn’t help but feel a lingering disappointment. You had been so close, so close to finishing it all. You had fought hard, but in the end, Sunghoon had been the one to claim victory.

You glanced over at him, watching as he was surrounded by his fellow Durmstrang students. Their excitement was palpable, and it stung to see him raised up on a pedestal, holding the cup aloft like a hero. He posed for pictures, a small smile on his face, as if everything had gone exactly according to plan.

Your gaze shifted to Igor Karkaroff, who was grinning from ear to ear, his greedy eyes never leaving the cup. As Sunghoon handed it over to him, Karkaroff’s hand clapped firmly on Sunghoon’s back, a gesture that seemed more like a possessive claim than a congratulatory pat.

You swallowed hard, that familiar bitterness rising in your chest.

It wasn’t just the victory that stung—it was everything that came with it. The attention, the admiration, and the way people seemed to bend around Sunghoon like he was the center of their world.

You shook the thoughts away, reminding yourself that you had made it through. You had done your best.

--

The courtyard was alive with activity as students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang prepared to depart.

You stood with Seon-mi, your heart heavy. Despite everything, she had become a true friend to you.

“You better write to me,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion as she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Only if you write back,” you teased, your voice wavering slightly.

Seon-mi laughed, stepping back to look at you. “I will. I promise. And maybe I’ll convince my parents to let me visit Hogwarts sometime.”

“Please do,” you said, smiling despite the ache in your chest.

With one final hug, Seon-mi stepped onto the carriage, giving you a cheerful wave before disappearing inside. You stood there for a moment, before turning to leave.

That’s when you saw him.

Sunghoon stood by Krum, speaking quietly. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to his expression that you couldn’t quite place.

Your heart was pounding as you approached Sunghoon. With every step closer, you felt the weight of everything unsaid between you. This was it. If you didn’t confront him now, you never would.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned to you, startled, his eyes wide.

“Come with me,” you said firmly, dragging him away from the group and toward a quiet corner near the castle walls.

“Wait—what are you doing?” he asked, but he didn’t resist.

When you stopped, you let go of his arm, crossing yours tightly over your chest. “I need to know something, Sunghoon. I need to know why you left.”

His expression faltered, the usual confidence in his gaze replaced with unease. “Why I left?” he echoed, as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Yes,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why you left me. You just disappeared without a word, Sunghoon. I deserve to know the truth.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse to answer. But then, he finally spoke.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “I… I liked you when we were kids, alright? I did. But then… I don’t know, I guess I just… fell out of love.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, all you could hear was the rushing of blood in your ears.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice trembling.

“I’m not—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “That’s not the truth. Tell me the real reason, Sunghoon. I deserve that much.”

He sighed again, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the conversation was finally catching up to him. His brows furrowed, and he looked away from you, his jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he muttered, his tone sharper now. “You want the truth? My parents didn’t like you.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“They didn’t like you,” he repeated, looking at you now. His eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, anger, guilt, maybe all three. “Your family… you’re not pureblood. My parents didn’t think you were good enough for me. And when they decided to send me to Durmstrang, I had the chance to leave everything behind. So I did.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. You just stared at him, the truth sinking in like ice water in your veins.

“So, what?” you finally managed, your voice shaking. “You just… left because they told you to? Because you couldn’t be bothered to fight for me? For us?”

He flinched at your words, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly. “I was a kid, okay? I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the cold air. “Well, you did. You hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, his shoulders tense and his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to decide what hurts me, Sunghoon. And you don’t get to justify what you did. You could’ve told me the truth back then. You could’ve given me the chance to understand. But you didn’t. You just… left.”

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but you didn’t want to hear it. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him standing there alone.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was the answer you needed. And now, at least, you could finally start moving on.

a/n: my angst is a bit rusty... LUCKILY I GOT MORE ANGST COMING!

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[eggyrocks]

SICK: KUROO T.

tags/warnings: kuroo x f!reader, coworkers to lovers, new year’s party, throwing up, drinking/alcohol, reader is throwing up from being too drunk that’s basically the plot, it's a little gross

word count: 1.1k

Through the thin walls of the bar’s bathroom, she can vaguely hear the cheers of the crowd, and she can only assume that the clock has hit midnight. It’s the new year, and she’s face down in a toilet, spitting up green tea shots. 

The noise of the crowd fades, and the music gets turned up. But it’s harder to hear now, because she’s heaving and coughing, body desperately trying to expel all the poison she filled her body with, up until about twenty minutes ago. 

There’s a large hand holding up her hair. Because the physical pain of puking in a sticky bar bathroom isn’t enough, she has to endure the humiliation of doing it in front of Kuroo Tetsurou. 

When Kuroo had asked her if she wanted to accompany him to this New Year’s party that his friend was hosting, she didn’t hear him, because she was too focused on the way his hand tugged at the knot of his tie, yanking it away from his neck. When he asked her again, her face got hot and the blood whipped around in her body so fast she thought she might pass out. Naively, she had assumed that after months of festering a fat, blistering crush on her coworker, she would finally have an opportunity to look desirable in front of him. 

She didn’t account for the fact that, out of nervousness, she would compulsively order shots and drink them like water, leaving her with blurry vision and a swayed step before Kuroo even finished his first beer.

When the bile first started working it’s way up her throat, she had tried to excuse herself quietly, without much commotion. But because Kuroo is fucking perfect, and has to be a gentlemen, he followed her to the single-stall bathroom, water bottle in hand. 

A hiccup pops out of her, and she slumps. Her stomach feels almost empty now. And the worst part of it is, the puking killed her buzz, and now she has to face Kuroo that much more sober. With her face still pointed down, and a bit of spit dripping from her chin, she says, “Please don’t get me fired over this.” 

Kuroo laughs, and his hand releases her hair, and travels down her back, spreading out between her shoulder blades. His thumb draws circles over her shirt. “I blew chunks at the office Christmas party, so, y’know, mutually assured destruction.” 

She chuckles, and then regrets it when she thinks she’s going to throw up again. She holds her breath, but nothing comes up. It’s a false alarm. 

“C’mon,” Kuroo urges, and uses his thumb to tap on her back. “You should sit up, have some water.” 

She doesn’t want to. She’s not sure she can look Kuroo in the eye, but she can’t live in the toilet bowl forever, so she lifts her head, and whips off the corner of her chin with the back of her sleeve. His hand slips off of her and settles back into his lap. Her eyes dodge his, and instead they linger on the floor between them. 

His long legs are folded as he sits on the floor, and his knees brush against hers. Kuroo grabs a plastic water bottle, and holds it in her direction. “You should drink.” 

Without any protest, she grabs the bottle and it crinkles under her grip. She uncaps it and swishes water around in her mouth, spitting it out back into the bowl before she takes a good, proper gulp. Once she’s done, she caps it again. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Kuroo replies easily. Neither one of them makes a move to leave. 

“I’m really sorry,” she says. “I know you didn’t want to spend New Year’s with your puking coworker on the bathroom floor.” 

Kuroo smirks. “See, that’s what you would think. But I’ve actually been hoping for this outcome. This is actually really lucky for me.”

Her body is exhausted from the drinking and the puking, but it still somehow finds enough energy to get nervous over this. Her spine straightens out. “Why, you have some weird fetish or something?” 

And Kuroo laughs, but she groans, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. She’s still operating off the whiskey in her body. “Ugh,” she bemoans, “don’t get me fired for that either.” 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a fetish,” Kuroo tells her. “I’m just happy to be alone with you. I can deal with the puking if it means getting away from the crowd.” 

Her face gets hot again. Her whole body gets hot, and her ears start to buzz. “Well, maybe next time you want to be alone, you can be the one throwing up, and I’ll be the cool one with the water bottle.” 

Kuroo nods, and she can almost swear that there’s a tinge of red to his cheeks. “Okay, next time I’ll drink all the green tea shots. Then we’ll be even.” 

She smiles. Her stomach has stopped rolling, but it’s oddly comfortable on the bathroom floor, sitting cross-legged across from Kuroo. And even though her throat is burning and her head is throbbing, she’s content, sitting there with him. She doesn’t want to get up, and she wants him to feel the same. “Do you want to go back out there?” she asks softly, voice hoarse. 

“Nah,” Kuroo replies. “The party kind of sucks.” 

“Maybe you’re not drunk enough,” she rebuttals. “Seemed great to me.” 

Kuroo shrugs. “To be honest with you, I didn’t really wanna come out tonight. The only reason I did was because you said you’d come with me.” 

She swallows thickly, and now she feels dizzy again. “Really?” 

“Yeah. If you had said no, I wouldn’t have come. But you said yes, and I thought that maybe you’d let me kiss you at midnight.” 

She throws up again. 

It comes quickly, and she coughs it up as fast as she can, not sure if it’s from still from the alcohol or now it’s the nerves or it’s some awful combination of both. When her stomach’s emptied again, she sits up so quickly there’s black spots in her vision. “What?” she pants. 

Kuroo looks at her with wide, amazed eyes. “Y’know, that’s the first time someone’s thrown up at the idea of kissing me.” 

“I’d kiss you,” she rushes out. “If I wasn’t puking, I’d kiss you.”

For a moment, Kuroo studies her. His eyes trail over her face and down to her chest that rises and falls with each breath. “Are you sure you’re not just drunk?” 

She nods, almost too eagerly, but she can attribute that to being too drunk. “I’ve wanted to for so long.” 

Kuroo leans forward, and his hand raises to gently cup her cheek. His skin is pleasantly cool, and she leans into his touch, enjoying the way it cools her hot, clammy skin. “Well, let’s get you home, then,” Kuroo whispers, “so you can brush your teeth.”

an: this was stupid lmafo

[drewsbuzzcut]

The Best Of You, Honey, Belongs To Me

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: some jealousy and smut, mentions having a baby and drinking alcohol, and mentions marriage

Takes place September 2026

“Ryan’s here,” Mat groans while unbuckling Nolan from his car seat.

Your sweet boy kicks his legs in delight, ready to be in his daddy’s arms while simultaneously distracting Mat from his distaste. You clock just where Mat’s line of vision was previously directed, Ryan’s car.

“You memorized his car?” You ask with a smirk after you round the corner to get to your two boys.

Mat doesn’t usually get jealous, so when he does you always feel a little smug.

“It’s not my fault he’s always around,” Mat mutters against Nolan’s chubby cheek.

“Dada,” Nolan squeals, his body leaning into his daddy’s chest.

“Aw baby, don’t be jealous. I’m all yours,” you say, holding up your left hand to showcase your rock for an engagement ring. It catches the rays from the sun and gleams, making Mat smile gleefully.

“I love you,” he says with his lovesick eyes that you love so much.

You walk up to him, long silky smooth legs on display, and reach out to move some hair away from his forehead. His hazel eyes sparkle in the sun, luring you into his chest. Or maybe it was his large hand on the curve of your ass pulling you to him. You seal your mouth to his and welcome his tongue as it passes the seam of your lips. He hums into you, tasting the cherry flavor of your lip gloss.

“Fuck. Can I just take you home?” Mat asks, breathlessly after he reluctantly pulls away.

He keeps his eyes closed for a while, memories of your night before flashing through his mind.

“Sorry, hotshot. We need to be here at least 3 hours before we can think about leaving,” you sigh, turning to adjust Nolan’s wrinkled shirt.

He gives you a single-tooth smile and you can’t resist kissing his cheeks, eliciting his precious giggles.

“Mama,” he coos and puckers his lips for a kiss.

“My boys and their kisses,” you cheer, happily giving your baby another kiss.

After dinner and many conversations held with many people, you finally have time to find your boys and relax. You make a quick stop at the ice chest to find a drink for yourself and Mat. The both of you won’t be able to drink too much because you have Nolan and the drive back home, but one sounds nice.

As you’re about to get to your fiancé, you see Ryan step up to him and you pause. Things with Mat and Ryan are still weird. Even though there have been many occasions that they’ve been around each other, there’s still tension that lingers. Ryan will make conversation with you and Mat will immediately turn green in jealousy. He reeks in it and you especially feel it when he paws at you so openly. You don’t mind Mat’s brazen nature when it comes to you; you know he’s not faking it.

“Hey, man. Do you mind if I carry Nolie bear?” Ryan asks and you can clearly see Mat tense up. His skin crawls as this nobody uses the nickname you coined for your son.

He’s still for a while and Ryan waits in front of him patiently. Mat’s confidence starts to falter. He never really thought about another man carrying his son as a threat, but now he’s on alert.

“Sure,” Mat agrees and passes Nolan into Ryan’s arms.

“He’s adorable, Mat. He reminds me a lot of Y/n,” Ryan says with a smile. His eyes briefly flash over to you. He seems to always know where you are.

“That’s funny, Y/n always says that he’s my mini me,” Mat retorts with a smug look painting his face.

Before Ryan can respond, Nolan starts wailing and squirming. He reaches his little arms out for his daddy, and Mat wastes no time taking him into his arms. Nolan’s cries pull you to them, so you can make sure he’s okay.

“Hey little man. Are you okay, baby?” You coo and run your fingers through the small tufts of hair on his head.

Mat watches the way Ryan’s eyes burn into your skin. He watches you so intently, like he just wants to pull you into him. Well, too bad. Mat will never let it happen.

“He’s okay. He just isn’t used to being in strangers arms,” Mat hums, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his side. As you wipe away Nolan’s tears, Mat’s hand makes home on the small of your back. His fingers dip down to the curve of your ass and you send him a wicked grin. His touch alone is enough to set you on fire.

“He’s a daddy’s boy at the moment,” you chime in, nudging your nose into your boyfriend’s cheek. You softly cup his cheek and pulls his lips to yours. The large diamonds of your engagement ring shine under the light and catch Ryan’s eye.

“You’re engaged?” His shocked question pulls your attention away from where you’re currently occupied.

“Oh yeah! Mat asked while we were in Italy last month. Isn’t my ring perfect? Mat had it customized. I’m so lucky,” you gleam, practically jumping up and down. The jiggle of your ass under your shorts catches Mat’s attention and he has to wipe away the drool on his chin.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to make this pretty girl my wife,” Mat simpers, slapping your ass and kissing on your exposed shoulder.

“Well of course you had to. She did have your baby,” Ryan murmurs, eyes rolling at the two of you.

“Shut up,” you snap and push yourself into Mat’s chest before he can throw a fist.

“I’m just saying. He probably felt like he had to propose to you because you had a baby,” Ryan shrugs as if what he was saying wasn’t rude and offensive.

“Careful, Ryan. You almost sound jealous,” Mat grunts.

“Jealous? Of who? You?” The other guy shakes his head, his eyes dead set on Mat.

“Right, you wouldn’t be jealous of me. I only have the girl of your dreams in my bed every night and she had my baby. And now she’s wearing the engagement ring I designed for her, but you’re not jealous,” Mat says under his breath, but loud enough for Ryan to hear.

You turn into Mat’s chest, coming face to face with the protruding veins on his neck and the flush in his face. He’s pissed. You rub down his torso and rub at Nolan’s back. Surely he can feel the tension and that’s why he’s pressed into Mat.

“I don’t care about any of that, because guess what? She’ll never forget her first,” Ryan huffs, unknowingly setting off a ticking time bomb inside of your fiancé.

Your jaw drops to the floor and your anger starts to boil over its already overflowing pot. You cannot believe this is happening right now.

“You know what, it’s time to go,” you cut in before things have a chance to turn for the worst.

Mat follows you silently, his hand intertwining with yours lets you know that he’s trying to calm down.

Bidding your goodbyes and promises of seeing your family and friends again soon pass by in a blur. You’re not even sure what words came out of your mouth. Your feet just know that you have to get out of there and carry you to the car with Nolan in hand.

As you buckle Nolan in you start to feel guilty for leaving Mat in there- he’s either stuck in line for the restroom or stuck in his farewells- but the air in that house was starting to run thin.

And while you worry about Mat, he’s seemingly burning whatever remnants of the bridge that connects you to Ryan.

Your fiancé places a heavy hand on Ryan’s shoulder, gathering his full attention.

“You may have been her first, but I’m her last. At least I can please my girl more than once in one night, and she sometimes doesn’t mind making a mess on my sheets,” Mat whispers and walks away before Ryan can respond.

The hockey player finds you in his vehicle, his fast paced walk getting him to you within a minute.

“I’m sorry I left you in there. I just needed to get-“ your words are cut off by Mat’s lips on yours.

His hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head back as his tongue devours your mouth.

“You’re mine,” he huffs, eyes closed as he tries to commit this kiss to memory.

“Always and forever,” you breathlessly whisper and place your forehead against his.

“Let’s go home,” he says, patting your butt and walking you to the passenger side.

The entire way home you keep a watchful eye on Mat. You can tell he’s still bothered by what happened by the way he white knuckles the steering wheel. You cup the back of his neck and rub out the tension with your thumb. You can feel him partially relax into your touch.

“I love you, Barzy,” you whisper and finally relax into the seat.

Back at home, you quickly give Nolan and yourself a bath before putting him to sleep.

Mat intercepts you in your shared bedroom, his hands pull your body into a hug. You’re only clad in your silk robe and the hockey player is quick to undo the tie. His eyes roam your bare body hidden beneath the silky material. Your nipples peek through and catch his attention. His thumbs massage your nipples over your robe and your core starts to tingle in delight.

“I can’t believe you ever had sex with that guy,” Mat grumbles as he pushes the robe off of your shoulders.

He grabs you by your waist and hoists you so you’re lying on your California king sized bed. Your darkening eyes follow each of his movements as he pulls off every item of clothing on his frame.

You move to rest on your side, half propped up by leaning on your elbow.

“It pisses me off that he made you come for the first time. It pisses me off even more that he’s still around and that he watches you like a hawk. You’re mine. You’re my wife, the mother of our child,” he exasperated, hands fisting his hair.

You watch him vibrate with anger that’s triggered by jealousy. Some people may feel guilty, but it turns you on like no other.

“But look at you all laid out for me,” Mat continues, finally getting on the bed.

He climbs on top of you, his knees pressing into the mattress at your sides. He leans down, cups your breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. A soft moan escapes your mouth, one that he almost doesn’t hear.

“Baby,” you hum and guide his hand to your heat.

“You’re so wet, pretty girl. Who’re you all soaked for?” He smirks at the way you coat his fingers in arousal.

“You. Only you,” you whimper as he sinks his cold fingers into you, preparing you for his cock.

“Hell yeah. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” Mat stakes his claim and continues to pump his thick digits into you.

“Fuck me. Fill me up, please,” you beg and close your legs around his wrist to stop his movements.

“You want my cock, baby?”

You nod your head before uttering out a desperate please.

“Are you going to be my good girl?” He questions even though he knows the answer. He finally moves between your legs, grabbing his length and giving it a few strokes, sending a jolt of excitement through you.

“Yes,” your response is broken as he slips himself between your folds. His shaft glistens in your wetness.

You softly swivel your hips, your clit meeting his leaking tip. He taps his head on your sensitive bud, teasing you until you’re begging.

“You feel so fucking good. Your pussy was made for me,” he grunts as he finally stretches you open.

Your core flutters around him immediately. He’s rock hard and heavy inside of you. His thrusts are slow, but pronounced. His mushroomed tip glides along your wet walls in a tantric massage. It makes you so weak.

“Kiss me,” you whine and pull him down on top of you. Your legs wrap around him, your heels digging into his back to keep him deep inside of you. Your hands wrap around his upper back and neck. You always need him pressed to your skin.

Mat takes your lips in his, his nose nudging into yours and his tongue stroking yours. He swallows each of your moans while simultaneously pulling more out of you.

The all too familiar knot starts to tighten in your tummy. Every single nerve ending in your body burns in lust. Mat must feel the way you clench down on him, because he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder.

“Oh my god. Right there, Maty. Don’t stop,” you chant at the change in angle.

His cock hits deeper to the point you practically feel him in your stomach. His large hands grip your hips and move them up and down. He repeatedly presses into your sweet spot and it sends you reeling. Your back arches off the bed and you fist the sheets while your moans get stuck in your throat. The pleasure is too good, it’s rendered you speechless.

“You look so sexy taking my cock,” he praises and circles your clit with the pad of his thumb.

Your body thrums in bliss, your slick dripping down his length and collecting at the base. The squelching and moaning creates your own melody.

“I’m going to come,” you announce with a loud moan.

The knot is being pulled taut, on the verge of snapping, and Mat holds you tight as he pounds into you.

“Come on my cock and scream my name, baby,” he throws you into the abyss.

You come with a cry, his name in the center of it. Your body twitches as the strength of your orgasm unleashes its wrath. Your walls collapse on his cock and sets off his own release. His come is pumped deep inside of you, filling you up, making you his.

“That’s it, pretty girl. You’re such a good girl, taking all of my come,” Mat praises, slowly pulling out of you and letting his lips caress your entire shivering body. He reaches down and circles your clit, working you through your release. Very gently he inserts two fingers into your sopping pussy, fucking his come back into you. It’s an erotic sight to see it drop down your thighs, but he also loves watching you be full of him. Plus, it’s hot to see it spill from your cunt.

“I love you,” you whimper and kiss on any part of him you can reach.

“I love you, baby.” He scoops your body into his arms and adjusts the both of you, so you’re lying on his chest. The rhythmic beating of his heart eases the effects of your aftershocks. His warmth seeps into your skin and you can feel yourself slipping into the perfect satiated state.

Nolan’s shrill cries break through the silence from the baby monitor and wake you up.

“I got it,” Mat whispers with a kiss to your forehead.

“No, let me. I want to hold my baby,” you respond and pull yourself out of bed.

You quickly get cleaned up before warming up his milk and entering the nursery. While you get Nolan situated in the rocking chair, Mat cleans himself up and puts on some underwear.

Quietly he stands in the entrance of Nolan’s room, watching the love of his life feed their baby. You’re dressed in Mat’s button up and Nolan is wrapped in an Islanders onesie. He sucks his milk while his eyes are glued to you. Mat knows that’s why you love feeding him. The bonding moment is everything to you, especially since you weaned him off of your breast milk.

You look up and find the love of your life watching the sweet moment between you and your son. You give him a soft smile, one full of love and appreciation. He single-handedly changed your life and you couldn’t be happier than you are right now.

“I love you, Y/n. So much,” Mat professes, kneeling down next to the rocking chair, and gracing you with many kisses to your shoulder and neck.

“I love you, Barzy,” you whisper tearfully.

With ease, Mat picks you up and sets you on his lap after he sits on the chair. You lean your head back on his shoulder and continue feeding your baby boy. Mat presses his mouth into your neck and his pointer finger is wrapped up in Nolan’s tiny hand. Mat is grateful for his life with you and the family you’re both creating.

a/n: Idk how I really feel about this, but enjoy!

[alien-magnolia]

I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz

[starleska]

The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?

content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!! 

The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.

It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!

The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, you’d baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, “It’s good, I suppose,” when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.

'I needed this,’ you think as you look around at your new friends. You’ve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time you’ve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Right now, they’re dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdy’s busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.

It’s a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.

A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, it’s an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. He’s holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. It’s an odd expression - you aren’t used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.

“Hello,” says Wally, in his simple way. “I’m happy to see you.”

Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, it’s like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.

As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. He’s a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wally’s neckerchief is coming loose, and though he’s long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.

“Same to you!” you say. “Aren’t you hungry? All the food’s down with the others.”

That unusually pensive look on Wally’s face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. “You’ve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?”

Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. “That’s very nice of you…but this doesn’t work for me. You should keep it.”

When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.

You don’t know when this… thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights you’ve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. There’s a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.

But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.

“If you’re sure.” You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. “The offer’s still there.”

“It’s tempting,” says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. “I’d like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isn’t worth the risk. I trust him to know.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but the look on Wally’s face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you don’t feel it’s polite to pry. Wally’s always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wally’s inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.

Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.

It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesn’t know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, “Do you want me to look away?”

Wally’s fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. You’ve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.

“Actually,” says Wally, now looking at you properly, “I’d like to try something.”

He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and you’re suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.

It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.

Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.

You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wally’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. You’ve only known Wally a week, and yet you’re utterly charmed by everything he does.

A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: it’s Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.

“You like hiiiiim, ” she teased, her voice all sing-song.

“What?!”

You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. “No! I don’t know where you got an idea like that-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t need to pretend.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrong…even a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.

“I know a lot about flowers,” she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “What kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.

“When you arrived, you looked…wilted. Like you’d been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didn’t want to ask why. I think everyone else could, too…and we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.”

“You’ve all been so lovely to me,” you said, by way of thanks.

Julie nodded. “Sure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.”

You swallowed. “You see a lot, for a gardener.”

Julie smiled. “When you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, you’ll have a flower who has everything in the world…but they’re still curling up, and shying away from the light.”

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

“Wally brings the colour back to your petals,” said Julie. “Do yourself a favour. Don’t hide from your sun.”

Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

For anyone else, you would’ve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.

Slowly, you feel Wally’s hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.

“I have a question,” says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

“Uh…” What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, you’re thrown entirely for a loop. “...So I don’t die, I guess?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. “You’re so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?”

This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wally’s voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when he’s setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times you’d seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.

With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.”

A soft chuckle from Wally. “That’s right. You haven’t.”

Wally’s grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. It’s as if you’ve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you can’t feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.

“But…maybe you should.”

With Wally’s words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you can’t: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. You’re stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

And you can’t make sense of what you see.

The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhood’s comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.

Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but it’s like he’s sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. It’s like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.

Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wally’s hands. “What’s happening?!”

“Don’t worry,” says Wally. “You’re safe.”

“There’s nothing here,” you whisper. “Where is everyone?”

“Back Home,” says Wally. “They can’t see us right now. They’re not ready.” His smile turns coy. “But I think you are. Watch this.”

Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wally’s hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wally’s face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.

Without warning, Wally’s eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wally’s stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.

Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and you’re scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror you’ve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.

“What happened?!”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. “This is just how I eat.”

“How - did you - do - that?” you gasp.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always eaten this way.” Wally inclines his head in sympathy. “I am sorry if I’ve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I don’t interrupt them. I don’t want to be rude."

You suck in a huge gulp of breath. “Wally, this is…impossible,” you manage. “I want to leave - I want to go Home-”

“You can’t.”

Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wally’s hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.

“You understand me so well,” says Wally. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.” Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wally’s, but you can’t - and you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Wally’s thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. “I love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But you…”

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

You’re split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wally’s touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.

“I do,” you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wally’s impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.

Now, Wally’s eyes are not a source of terror. They’re a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.

“I think you’re special, you know,” says Wally. “The way I feel when I’m around you is…different, than with the others. You’re the absolute most.”

Wally’s words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. You’re no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.

This is why Wally’s next question confuses you so:

“Do you think if our friends saw me like this…they’d run away?”

Wally’s words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though you’re sure that you’re fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wally’s eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wally’s scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and you’re slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.

“Oh, Wally,” you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, ‘Waaalllllyyyy.’ “We love you so much. You can’t make us run away.”

Wally smiles, and you think it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“How I wish that were true.”

Suddenly, Wally’s eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse you’ll feel.”

You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wally’s touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.

“We don’t have much time,” says Wally. “But…thank you for this. You can’t know how much I appreciate you.”

The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wally’s - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, ‘Wally, I love you- ’

But then he looks away.

The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.

“Hey, you two!”

Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadow’s slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.

“Eddie wanted me to tell you we’re packing up,” Julie chirps. “Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.” She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wally’s, and grins. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just some good old-fashioned fun,” says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.

The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.

Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if you’d just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They would’ve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.

“Just hungry,” Wally says with a smile. “Let’s get you Home."

Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if you’re okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that you’ve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.

Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and you’re thankful it’s only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.

“You need to tell us if you get this again, okay?” says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined you’ll be more than fine in Wally’s care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Wally. “Julie is a good friend. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. “I feel the same way about you,” he says.

The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.

“Wally…I don’t really understand what happened today,” you say. “But…I know it doesn’t change how much I like you."

The beam that dawns on Wally’s face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You can’t help but return the grin. “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.

Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.

When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.

“Always know,” he says softly, “that I love you very much.”

Then, he’s leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wally’s back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.

You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your home…with the warm memory of Wally’s kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.

[dontopenfairies]

She pulls up to the curb alongside a huge green lawn. There’s supposed to be a free concert in the park today. She turns off the car and looks at her boyfriend.

“Let me take kitty for a second while you eat your snack,” she says, taking his black stuffed cat from him and setting it on the dashboard. She rummages around in the bag and finds a granola bar for him. “Here you go, sweetheart. Eat that and then we’ll try to find the festival.”

After they get out of the car, she passes him the big bag. “You’re carrying that,” she says. “Stick kitty in the big pocket. And then there’s sunscreen on the inside zipper pocket. Make sure you get your nose.”

It’s a long walk through the park to get there. “Are you excited?” she asks. “I’m really excited.” She stops him to take pictures of him next to the prettiest flowers and trees.

There’s a huge crowd of people around the bandstand. They can hear the murmur of people from the top of the little path down the hillside to get there. “Wow,” she says. “I think I forgot what crowds sound like. Maybe a Covid thing.” He reaches out and she grabs his hand as they get closer.

Everyone cheers when the band comes out. They start to play and the crowd applauds. Little groups of people around the perimeter are dancing.

He gets a little closer to her. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Um…I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Is the crowd stressing you out? You seem a little bit anxious.”

He nods. “I wet myself a little bit,” he whispers in her ear.

“Aww, sweetheart, and you don’t have a diaper today.” She surveys the damage as subtly as she can. Good thing he’s wearing black pants today.

“I think I need a toilet,” he says.

“Okay, let’s go find somewhere.” She’s wearing a flannel over her tank top, so she pulls it off and wraps it around his waist, tying it at the front. “That’ll cover you a little bit if you leak more, okay, honey?”

Now to find a toilet.

“Oh, that guy can tell us!” she says, looking at a man with a hi-vis staff vest on. “Excuse me? Hi, um, we’re looking for a bathroom.”

“Porta-potties that-a-way,” says the man, pointing.

She thanks him as they hurry over. The porta-potties are between two big, flowering bushes, but it isn’t enough to mask their smell.

The larger, accessible toilet is in use so they have to cramp into one of the small ones. The plastic walls are trapping heat inside.

“Yuck, it’s gross in here,” she says. She reaches out and opens the bag, still on his arm, and pulls out kitty and hands it to him.

“Wait, you aren’t changing me, are you?”

“What do you mean? You need a change, she says, pulling a thin adult diaper out of the bag.

“I’m not going in the toilet?”

“In there? Did you see how yucky it was? This’ll be so much better. Besides, I can tell you want it today.”

“Why? Just because I was holding my stuffie in the car?”

She unzips his pants and pulls them down along with his underwear. Even though they’ve been together for two years, he still gets shy when he’s exposed to her.

“No,” she says, getting the lotion and baby powder from the bag. “Well, not just that. Just from how shy and nervous you’ve seemed all day. Not to mention clingy.”

“Nuh-uh!” he retorts as she pulls the diaper around his front and tapes the sides. “I wasn’t THAT clingy…”

“You wanted to sit on the same side as me in the booth in the diner,” she says. “And you were hanging on to me the whole time. I almost expected I’d have to spoon-feed you your lunch.”

“Noo! You’d never have to spoon-feed me! I can do that myself!”

“Can you hold your pee by yourself, too?” she asks, watching his diaper swelling. He bends over, as far as the cramped portapottie allows him to, and presses on his bladder to get out the last bit.

“So cute,” she says, almost to herself, as she pulls his underwear and pants back up over the diaper. It’s a little harder to zip his pants up now that the diaper is swollen.

“You’re gonna stretch out my underwear,” he whines.

“I’m not getting a pants change?” he asks as she opens the portapottie door.

“Do you think there’s room in there to get your pants all the way off and your extra pair on?” she asks, holding the door open for him.

“No…”

They walk to the little sink next to the portapotties and she washes her hands.

“You should wash, too,” she says, taking kitty from him and stowing it in the bag.

“Okay,” he says. He hates the smell of the portapottie soap. Luckily, when he’s done, she sprays his hands with the lavender-scented hand sanitizer she keeps in the bag. So much better.

“Do you want to try again,” she asks, gesturing to the crowd. “Or do you want to go home?”

“I’ll try again!”

It just takes a couple more songs before he gets squirmy again. It’s getting hotter, and someone is smoking weed nearby, and more people are joining the crowd behind them, pressing in.

“I’m really trying, but I think I just need to go home,” he says. “Or somewhere quiet.”

“Okay, let’s go down to the grove,” she says, leading him by the hand through the crowd and across the lawn and down to the little area between the hills. There’s a ring of trees with a bench in the middle and they sit down.

He takes out his water bottle and takes a sip.

“Are you feeling better here?” she asks, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer.

“I’m sorry I wanted to leave. I know you wanted to see the concert.”

“I wanted to hang out with you,” she says. “I just thought maybe the free concert would be fun. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay,” he says, leaning his head on her shoulder.

“Remember what I told you before? Sometimes things seem like a really big deal in the moment, but as soon as it’s over, you can see that it’s all okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He closes his eyes. He can hear the sound of the band, warped and far away. And the sound of cars on the road just outside of the park. He can feel the strap of her tank top and her warm skin on his cheek, her shoulder rising and falling with her breath.

“Now you’re happy, sitting here with me holding you. But don’t think I’ll forget how bratty you were in the portapottie when we get home. You’re definitely getting a punishment for talking back to me and whining about wearing a diaper you clearly need.” She rubs his shoulder. “Oh, don’t blush. I could tell you wanted a diaper on, I can tell when you want a little punishment, too.”

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Ten

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.9K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

Feel free to buy me a coffee ☕☕

Of the six dates they'd been on, one of them had cancelled or rescheduled yet. It was just Oscar's luck that he was the first to do so.

"I'm really sorry guys," he said, holding the phone up to his ear. He couldn't sound more apologetic if he tried.

The ring around Lando's contact picture lit up green as he let out a growl. But it wasn't a growl of anger, and Oscar knew that. He couldn't blame Lando, though. He'd planned this date out and he'd been so excited.

"It's okay," she quickly jumped in before Lando could bite out some angry remark, ring around her contact picture lighting up purple. "Lando and I can get takeout and watch a movie instead. You'll join us when you're done, right?"

The breath Oscar let out was full of relief. "Of course I will, sweetheart," he said.

"What're you doing tonight?" Lando asked, voice clipped.

Oscar swallowed the lump in his throat. He coughed slightly, delaying answering the question. "I... uh, we're getting food tonight," he said and coughed again.

"Oh," The two of them answered.

He hated talking about feeding with them. It was disgusting, it wasn't normal. And it was something he never wanted the two of them to see. "Are you sure you still want me to come back?"

"Of course we do, Osc," she mumbled. "Take as long as you need."

The call didn't last much longer than that. Lando didn't have much to say and Oscar had to get going. "I'll see you guys later," he said. Not an I love you, they weren't at that point yet.

He ended the call between the three of them, slipped his phone into his pocket, and walked into the living room. There his fellow vampires were, waiting for him. Mark gave him a nod as he sat down between Logan and Max.

"Is everybody ready?" Asked Mark and the vampires let out different whoops and cheers. Mark clapped his hands together. "Let's get going, then."

Oscar let out a breath and followed the rest of his fellow vampires out of the house. He checked his phone one last time, checked for any messages from her and Lando.

She'd texted him, something cute. Just a quick, 'see you later, Osc. Miss ya!'. But Lando hadn't said anything. He was pissed, Oscar knew that. He was a werewolf; he didn't understand. Lando could eat whenever he wanted, he didn't need to wait for nights like this to hunt.

Yuki elbowed his shoulder and Oscar slipped his phone into his pocket. He sucked in a breath and followed the others into the woods.

***

"You can't be mad at him," she said as she ran her fingers through Lando's hair.

He let out a huff as he laid against her, his head on her boobs. God, he was comfortable, but he knew he would have been happier if Oscar was there with them. Lando would have been laying across the both of them as she played with his hair and Oscar ran his nails up and down his back.

But Oscar wasn't there and Lando was mad.

He looked at her, wearing a pout. It was pathetic of him, to be pouting like a petulant child, he knew. But he couldn't help it. He was sad and a little mad, and she had to know it.

Her finger poked his nose. "You're lucky you're cute, Norris," she whispered.

And suddenly he was on top of her, his lips on hers, hips pressing against her own. Hips hips were against hers, grinding ever so slightly.

Beneath them, her bed was squeaking. "Lando." She pushed at his shoulder. "Lando, stop. Stop, before my dad comes in," she whispered.

With a giggle, Lando laughed and sat back. "Did you know I had a crush on you when we were kids?" He asked as he laid down beside her and pulled her closer.

"Yeah," she answered as she began planning with his fingers. "Yeah, I knew."

Lando frowned at that. He stilled his hand as she continued to play with his fingers. "You knew?" He repeated, and she nodded. "But you didn't like me back?"

"No, I did. But I was only gonna be here for a few weeks or months at a time, so I didn't see any point."

Lando pulled his hand away from hers and sat up straighter. "Aren't you only here for a few months this time around?"

She rolled her eyes. She hadn't meant to, but Lando was being a pouty baby and it was over nothing. Except, this time, he wasn't pouting. No, anger and fury was in his eyes. "C'mon, Lan. This is different. We were kids then, and saying goodbye after only spending a few months, at most, together would have been so painful."

"How is this any different?" He barked back. "Oh, wait, I know. This time you'd leave for four years, instead of nine months."

"Lando!"

The laugh he released was like poisoned air between them. "You're saying my name like you're not gonna leave in a few months."

She had no defence for that. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn't stop herself from glaring at him. "This isn't fair to me, you know," she whispered, pulling her legs up to her chest. "Yeah, I was gonna have to leave, but I was gonna come back! And you guys could visit me!"

But Lando had moved over to the window. "I need some air," he said as he pushed the window open.

"Lando!" She called again. But, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. She climbed out of the bed and raced over to the window, but Lando was long gone. Her eyes scanned over the yard and back towards to the woods, but he was nowhere to be found.

She left the window open, just in case Lando came back, but she crawled over to the bed and threw herself on top of the comforters. The movie was still playing, but she had no idea what was happening. She didn't care as she cried into her pillow.

How long as she laid there? She didn't know as he buried her face against the pillow.

There was a noise, the unmistakable sound of someone coming in through the window. She sat up and wiped at her eyes as she looked at the intruder. The welcome intruder.

"Sweetheart," Oscar said as he strode towards the bed. "What happened?"

His hand was on her back, moving in soothing circles as she moved closer to him. "He's such an asshole," she spat, and Oscar wiped her tears from her cheek.

"Lando?" He asked, and she nodded. Oscar let out a sigh. "Okay, tell me what he did."

She did just that, telling him everything as she laid against his side. Oscars hand was still against her. Cold and so still. He squeezed her, kissed the top of her head.

"He just lashed out? For no reason?" Oscar asked as her head sat on his shoulder and her lips nipped at his neck.

"Yeah," she mumbled.

There first fight, and he wasn't even there. If he had been, he could have stopped it. He could have stopped Lando from leaving and he could have gotten them to talk it out.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "Do you want me to and speak to him?" He asked gently.

Her hand was against his chest as she pushed him back against the bed. "Later," she said and laid beside him, head on his chest. "Just... be here with me."

Oscar stayed with her. His arms were around holding her close as they watched the rest of the movie. Neither of them really knew what was going on, but Oscar didn't much care as he felt her breathing even out.

As soon as it did, Oscar untangled her body from his own. He laid her on the bed and pulled her blanket over her body. "I'll be back soon," he whispered as he brushed her hair away from her forehead. He leaned down to kiss her head and took off, leaving through the window.

The moment he got into the woods, the wolves made it clear he wasn't welcome. He walked with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the pack house.

And, suddenly, a wolf was in front of him. His black fur made him almost invisible in the dead of night. "Carlos," Oscar said as he stared down at the wolf. "I need to speak to Lando."

Carlos growled. His stance was ready to bounce, but Oscar stood firm. He was getting to Lando one way or another, even if he had to go through Carlos.

"Stand down, Chilli," came a familiar voice.

Oscar looked just past him. Daniel Ricciardo, one of the friendliest wolves around, strode towards him. "You're here for Lan, right?" He called and Oscar gave a nod. "Right, let's go." He waved for Oscar to follow him and Carlos stepped to the side, letting him through.

He followed Daniel towards the pack house, acutely aware of Carlos behind him. But he ignored it as he moved forward. "So, you two are really together? You and Toto's kid?" Asked Daniel as he navigated through the woods.

"Yeah," Oscar answered. "Yeah, we are."

Daniel gave a laugh, but it wasn't mocking. "You guys are making history here," he said as the pack house came into view. "A werewolf and a vampire together. I never thought I'd see it."

He walked him through the front door and up the stairs, ignoring the growls of the other wolves. As long as Daniel was leading him, Oscar knew he was fine.

At the first door on the left, he knocked. "Piss off!" Lando called, but Daniel nodded for Oscar to enter.

"Lan?" He called as he walked into the room.

Lando swivelled his spinning chair to face the door. "Osc," he said with slight surprise. "I thought you were busy."

"I was," he said, shutting the door and pressing his back against it. "And then I headed to come meet you guys. Except, when I got there, you had already gone and our girl was crying."

His voice was so gentle, it had Lando bowing his head. "I didn't mean to make her cry," he mumbled. "I just... I was so angry. She's gonna leave again and I can't handle that," he admitted.

"Talk to me, baby," said Oscar as he came to sit on Lando's bed. "What's got you so angry?" He looked around the room, at all of the things Lando had on his shelves. His gaming set up and childhood sports trophies were no surprise, and Oscar knew how much he loved golf. It wasn't the bedroom of a man, but Oscar loved it.

And then he spied the calendar on the back of the door. Just on date was circled, the date of the full moon. "Oh, Lan." Oscar sighed. "It's the full moon, isn't it? That's why you've been extra angry, right?"

"It's no excuse, Osco," He mumbled, head thrown back and eyes shut. "She probably hates me."

Oscar kissed his head. "That's why we're gonna gonna back to hers and you're gonna apologise and you two are gonna make up. Sound good?"

Lando nodded his head. "Sounds good," he said and pulled Oscar towards him.

Taglist: @biancathecool

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[babyouran]

A Day in the Life of the Fujioka Family! - what was planned to be a quick, small trip to visit y/n and haruhi soon becomes something bigger as all the members get a peek into the commoner lifestyle

Pairing - fem!reader x host club

Apart of - ouran add in

Currently, seven of the eight Host Club members were standing outside of a run-down, tiny, one-roomed house where the Fujioka residents lived. Vines were overcrowding the fence that stood in front of the cracked home, them growing in unwanted places. The shattered windows allowed a nasty breeze to enter the house, and the grass surrounding it had weeds overgrowing up to the height of Honey’s knees. As if it could not look more disappointing, the once nice weather that seemed to greet them soon turned into darkened clouds that looked as if it were specifically just floating over the Fujioka home. 

Seeing such a dear friend in a depressing space was appalling to the group. Tamaki stood still, his eyes trained directly at the chunk of wood missing at the top of the doorframe, his hands tightly holding onto a box filled with treats. 

"This can't be right," Tamaki muttered.

"Oh Haruhi," Y/N sighed sadly, looking at the rundown place of living. When Haruhi opened the door, her expression differed much from the one they normally saw on her. She had dirt smudged on her cheeks, a sickly pale complexion, and a dizzying stance shown through her discombobulated feet trying to keep her balanced and upright. 

"Hey everyone. Why don't you come in?" Haruhi offered, and she gestured to the inside of the miniature home, where a singular chandelier hung down from the ceiling, emitting a small light to make up the whole home's space. "I know it's not much, but please make yourselves at home. I'll make us some tea." She moved across the dirtied floor, trash filtered about the room, and swung open the rusty cabinetry doors. "Um, I'm sorry, we don't have enough cups, but we do have some bowls.” 

She frantically pulled out most of the dishware available, pouring an oddly dark brownish-green tea into the chipped containers. The group couldn’t help but eye one another in an attempt to stifle their comments of concern and disgust.

"Hey, boss. What's with this place? She lives here?" Hikaru uttered.

"Maybe it's some kind of set, you know, like in the movies?" Kaoru hoped, peering behind a tattered curtain in hopes of finding a mysterious camera.

"I-I hope so!" Tamaki exclaimed, his eyes staring now into the floor, unblinking. 

"Haruhi, you don't have any books," Y/N realized, a gasp leaving her lips as she tried to search in a drawer but to no avail. The book-obsessed young maiden was wrecked at the discovery, similar to how many of the other members were. 

"Psst, Y/n," Tamaki snapped out of his trance, nudging her shoulder. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I'll be okay, Tamaki-senpai." Y/N shook her head up and down, wiping away an imaginary tear and taking a slow seat down onto the flattened cushion that lay near the table.

"Calm down, you guys. I bet this is the storeroom. I'm positive Infinite Cosmos is just on the other side of that closet," Tamaki told the twins, turning around on the stained cushion and narrowing his attention to them. 

"Then should we try to open it?" Kaoru tiptoed over to where the door was. 

"Now's not the time!"  

"Right.”

"Since you guys decided to come by at lunchtime, my dad said it would be rude if I didn't offer you something to eat." Haruhi walked near the group, placing the bowls and cups filled with tea in front of them. "We've been fasting for three days to save up money to buy something suited to your taste. But it's all worth it as long as you guys like it.” She put on a fake smile. 

She walked back, hunched towards the kitchen counter where the grocery bag resided, and with gawky fingers, she pulled out an eight-piece sushi sampler, holding it up in the air. 

"It was marked down at the supermarket; how about that?" Haruhi lightly cheered, now placing the platter on the table. The fish looked several days past expiration, the rice was falling from its shape with an odd color, and a disturbing odor was ruminating from the supermarket sushi. 

"Sorry, we came to visit Haru-chan! Don't make us eat it!" Honey yelled, standing up as tall as he could with his hands up in the air as if surrounded by law enforcement. 

"Be strong men; Y/n will be upset if we hurt her friend, and Haruhi has truly suffered for our benefit," Tamaki encouraged the twins, hands shakily reaching across the table to pick up a set of cheap chipped chopsticks. "It's the least we could do.” 

"But sir, I'm not even sure this is fish!" Kaoru argued. 

"Wow! I can't believe it! Isn't this a piece of fancy tuna, and I'm getting to eat it with Y/N?" Haruhi admired the tuna in her hand.

"Oh no," Y/n muttered, taking one of the sushis in between her chopsticks. "This—I think I'm going to be sick," she gagged. 

"No, Y/n, don't eat that; it isn’t fancy tuna!" Tamaki yelled, sitting up quickly in his bed. He sat up with sweat dripping down his forehead, his breathing was labored, and his eyes rapidly scanned around the room. "Just a dream," he sighed, rushing out of the lavish bed, speedily getting ready, and making his way down the grand stairs of his estate. 

"Morning, Master Tamaki," An older woman greets him. "Anything we can do for you?"

"I need to get going; please bring the car around the front at once," he told her, school bag in hand.

"Yes, of course, sir." The driver answered with a curt nod as he went to turn and move out the door.

"I beg your pardon, Master Tamaki, but what would you like for breakfast this morning?" The woman asked.

"I don't want any! I already told you I have to get going!" Tamaki whined, looking as if he were about to stomp his foot in defiance.

"Hold it right there, Master Tamaki! I can't let you leave the house like that. You're still wearing your pajama bottoms and your house slippers," Tamaki rushed upstairs at her comment, coming back down in the proper clothing.

"Thank you, Shima," he thanked, brushing away a strand of hair that got ruffled in the movement and his face a little red from embarrassment. "I'll be going now."

"I hate to be a bother, Master Tamaki, but today is Sunday," she informed. “You don't have to go to school today, sir."

"Oh,” He looked back at her defeat. “Well, why didn't you make me aware of the fact earlier?"

"As your maid, it's my duty to help you. However, I want you to become a fine gentleman. So, you must be able to recognize your own mistakes." She grabbed his back, starting to drag him off. "Since you suddenly have some free time on your hands, why don't we work on your manners?"

"But I have to make a call! Someone bring me a phone!" Tamaki frantically yelled. A maid rushed over with a rotary, which Tamaki quickly took from her grip, spinning around the digits. "Hey Kyoya, there's something I need to talk to you about.”

The weekend granted free time for the girls of the host club to congregate in the ways they wished. With the bright sun shining and heating their exposed skin, Haruhi and Y/n walked back from their venture at the supermarket with warmth in their hearts. It was a most enjoyable time for the wealthier girl, as she had never participated in it. They were chatting amongst themselves until Haruhi’s steps halted when something out of the ordinary came into view—a group of people swarming around some fancy cars. She took a few steps forward to catch a better glimpse, curiosity getting the best of her, and droned out the ramblings of Y/N. 

"Check out that car," a man mentioned, pointing out the obvious while a driver was opening the door to the back seat. To much surprise, some of the fellow host club members emerged. 

"Wow, so this is where Haruhi lives?" Kaoru spoke.

"It's pretty big, huh?" Hikaru added, as both of the twins were thoroughly impressed. 

"Look at all the rooms!" Honey jumped up and down, tugging on Mori’s hand. 

"This building is what you might call an aggregate commoner dwelling," Kyoya told them.

"So that means this isn't just hers?" Hikaru put together residing in a more comfortable and toned-down choice of clothing. Most of the boys wore tops without long sleeves, like Mori and Kyoya’s vest or Honey’s sailor shirt. Tamaki had a light yellow sweater on, and the twins were decked out in red and white tops. Overall, the uniforms were gone, and the street clothes fashion commenced. 

"Yes, her home is only one of these units," he confirmed.

"Kyoya! Why did you bring these idiots with?" Tamaki whined, now actually stomping his feet.

"Kyoya, it was just supposed to be you and me!”

"Well, you see, I knew you didn't dare to come here alone to see Y/n outside of a school setting, so I thought it'd be best if everyone came along," he explained. "Okay, let's all go home; I underestimated our great leader.”

"I'm sorry, don't leave," Tamaki apologized, putting his hands down in defeat.

There was still a bumbling crowd around the vehicles whispering different rumors about why they appeared and just who the host club were. Y/N, who was naturally curious, stopped her ramblings and began to venture to the crowd, taking in their reactions.

"Now don't you forget men!" Tamaki pulled the rest of the group over into a huddle. "This is a casual—we just happened to be in the neighborhood—type of visit. Y/n will be outraged if we disrespect Haruhi, and after all, Haruhi is a member of our club. We will do our best to be respectful and not judge them. Don't say shabby, cramped, and run down when referring to her home," Tamaki warned the group.

Though the girl in question had heard their whole conversation and was heating up with rage, she turned towards the boys and said, "It's too late; just leave!" At the sudden outburst, Y/n rushed over to her friend's side to see the rest of the host club in the distance.  

“Wow, everyone is here!" Y/n beamed, thrilled nature all over her features as she admired the appearances of all of her friends in the same place. 

Similar to fruitflies attracted to something sweet, the boys ventured over near the girls, Honey pushing himself closer to Y/n’s side as he cocked his head up. “You look pretty, N/n-chan!” Even the younger-natured boy could recognize a new spark in Y/n’s character with a new venue and be surrounded by those she cared for.

"Thank you, Honey-senpai," Y/n smiled down at the boy.

Haruhi tugged on Y/n’s wrist, pulling her closer to her. "Now the rest of you, get the hell out of here!"

"Haruhi's so mad, she cursed at us!" Tamaki exclaimed, jumping in fear.

"Was this not a coincidence?” Y/n cocked her head to the side, furrowed eyebrows. 

“No, they planned this without my permission,” Haruhi glanced over to the girl, cheeks a flamed red. Y/n immediately turned to the man of the hour—Tamaki—and watched as he shrieked, cowering behind the twin's frames in fear of upsetting Y/n. 

"Excuse me, Haruhi, but is everything alright?" An older woman went up to her, tapping her shoulder lightly.

"Hi, Miss Land-Lady.”

"These young men are driving such fancy, foreign cars; they're not Yakuza, are they?"

"No, they are not," Haruhi reassured her, shaking her head and stifling a little laugh at the insinuation.

"Do you want me to call the police for you?" She asked, whispering in Haruhi's ear. Tamaki bounced away from his place of hiding and gently placed the woman's palm into his grip.

"Pleased to meet you, madam. My name is Suou; I'm one of Haruhi's friends," he explained, almost sparkling in the sunlight.

"Really? My goodness, well, aren't you just adorable?" The landlady complimented, a total switch in her former demeanor as she was greeted with his presence up close.

"We're just stopping; we didn't mean to cause a scene. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's no problem," she giggled, moving towards Haruhi. "I'll stop by later with snacks for you and your friends.”

With a loud sigh, Haruhi began the way up the steps leading to her home, an eager group trailing behind. Yet she halted at the door. "Okay, here's the deal; I'm only giving you guys a quick peak," Haruhi explained. “Today was meant to be time for just Y/n and "Today was meant to be time for just Y/N and me.”

"But look, I brought you a gift, Haru-chan!" Honey told her, holding up a box full of delicious sweets, all decorated differently and delicately.

“Those look very good,” Y/n turned towards Haruhi, who was entranced by the expensive goodies. “Maybe it would be fun for us all to be together." She quietly commented, glancing hopefully at her friend. 

"Fine, I guess I'll make some tea," Haruhi caved in, unlocking the door and gesturing the group inside her home.

"What a hovel," Hikaru commented, gaining a flick to the back of his head from Y/N. "Ow!"

"Be nice," She muttered back quietly, following Haruhi in.

"A wood-built two-bedroom unit—that's normal for a commoner family of two," Kyoya voiced, the group looking around the apartment in something mixed with awe and confusion.

"Haruhi's such a pipsqueak; at least we know she won't hit her head on the low ceilings," Kaoru noticed.

"Well, I think it's a super-cute little room!" Honey exclaimed.

"It's nice; I like your fridge color," Y/n admired, nodding repeatdly next to Honey as the two plastered on overexaggerated grins of happiness. 

"You don't have to struggle to compliment it," Haruhi grumbled.

"Hold on. Are we supposed to take off our shoes too?" Honey pointed to Haruhi's shoes that were by the door.

"Please, if you don't mind," she voiced, and the group followed, taking off their shoes.

"Thanks for inviting us in!" The fellow members thanked, walking over to the table.

"This place is quite unpleasant; I think I may have underestimated commoner housing. Okay, we are going to have to squeeze. Y/N, come by me and let's all put our knees to our chests," Tamaki commanded the group. Y/n scurried by the boy at his command, sitting next to him as Mori took up the space on her other side. It was clear that the larger group was cramped in the smaller room, all smushed against one another as Haruhi got the goodies prepared. 

"I'm going to go make us some tea," Haruhi told them as she walked over to her stove.

"Oh! Do you need help?" Y/n slowly stood up, squishing around with the group stuck at her side, but she was yanked back down by Mori pulling her. "Oh!"

"Hey. Here's an idea: why don't you make us this? It's black tea our father bought us as a souvenir from Africa, so try it," Hikaru suggested, and he pulled out the container magically from his side, passing it onto the host. 

"Mori-senpai, are you okay?" Y/n whispered over to him, but the boy just nodded, gently removing his arm away from her upper arm and going forth to look forward. 

"Um sure, no problem," Haruhi accepted the tea, moving over to her kitchen.

"It's best served as milk tea; do you have milk?" Kaoru inquired.

"I think, when was the last time that I bought some milk?" Haruhi thought to herself.

"Stop it; what the hell are you doing?" Tamaki yelled in a whisper. "Don't be so mean to her, you idiots!"

"What do you mean?" The twins asked.

"I know you're trying to embarrass her by asking for that African tea. Look! She has no idea how she's supposed to prepare it! We are trying to keep Y/n hap-" He quickly fake coughed. "Haruhi, trying to keep Haruhi happy and respect her."

"What if she doesn't even have a teapot?" Kaoru added.

"And she's too embarrassed to tell us that she doesn't!" Hikaru assumed. "I'm sorry, Haruhi; you don't have to go to all that trouble." He stuck out his hand, reaching for her.

"What? It's no trouble. Besides, I've already made it," she told him, finishing up pouring it.

"Man, that was a close one, boss," Kaoru sighed.

"We have been reduced by commoners' wisdom," Tamaki told the twins, whispering over to them on his other side, the three boys breathing a sigh of relief at the fact the tea was able to be created. 

"What do you mean, sir?" Hikaru asked.

"Nothing we know to be true in our world holds true here. We have to be careful how we react. One little off-handed remark could break Haruhi's heart, which would get Y/n upset and then break hers too. That means in this fight, the first person to embarrass Haruhi loses," Tamaki told them.

"Well guys, the tea is ready. I'm sorry that not all of the cups match," Haruhi apologized.

"Don't worry about it, Haruhi-chan," Y/n voiced. "I'll even have some tea," she told her.

"You're taking off your mask? Like right now? In front of all of us?" Tamaki started to fire off questions to her. Tamaki leaned in closer, to which Mori reacted by reaching in front of Y/n and pushing his shoulder away a bit in order to give Y/n some room.

"No, not fully.” She huffed quietly, some embarrassment sneaking up into her senses. “I can still cover my mouth with my hand when I'm about to take a sip or a bite of something," she explained, moving a little closer to Mori, away from the peering Tamaki.

"Go on, N/n-chan! You can choose your cake first!" Honey offered.

"I think I'll let Haruhi go first." Y/n looked towards her friend, pushing the box closer across the table. "You are letting us visit in your home.”

"Are you sure, Y/n?"

"Go on, we're rich; we eat this kind of stuff all the time," Kaoru (horribly) reassured her.

"I'll take this one then," She pointed to a vanilla piece with strawberries decorating the top, taking it on her plate and soon munching upon it.

"I'll take this chocolate one," Y/n giddily lifted it up, pushing her fork through the cake and swiftly bringing it to her lips. She used her other hand to pull down the mask and push it past her lips, all while still hiding it from the majority's view. "This is so good," she mumbled. The only ones who could catch a peak were Tamaki, who had already seen the view in its full motion, and Mori with lighter cheeks than normal. 

"She's so cute!" The twins and Tamaki commented, watching her eat and forgetting about themselves. For many club members, it was a great confusion as to why the mask was always a common appearance in her outfits, but one that Kyoya had warned them about in the beginning—a backstory lying within. 

"Here, Y/n, take this chocolate piece on top of my cake; you like chocolate, right?" Mori picked it up with his fork and placed it on her plate.

"Yeah, I do!" She looked happily at him, taking the piece and soon moving it towards her mouth. "Thank you, Mori-senpai," He just shrugged but moved over closer and rested an arm behind her, leaning on it as he took in the subtle views of Y/n’s lips munching onto the dessert. It was shocking to Mori how much seeing the oral part of one's face could totally make an appearance.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Hikaru yelled, anime tears falling from his, Kaoru, and Tamaki's eyes.

"I should have been sharing chocolate with her," Tamaki whined.

"Why'd we let him trick us?!" Kaoru wondered sadly.

"Eating all that cake sure wet my appetite," Honey sighed.

"Yeah, isn't it lunchtime about now?" Hikaru realized. 

"Well then, what's for lunch?" Four of the members asked the tired girl.

"Mori-senpai," Y/n nudged his shoulder a little, gaining his attention. "Do you think Haruhi is okay with all of us? I mean, this was all unannounced, and we are now asking her to do all these things; I don't want to upset my friend," she worried, looking at him.

"She's okay; you are a good friend. Don't worry," He patted her head once, the calloused fingers resting in the different buds of hair on the top of her head. His fingers ever so slightly nudged their way beneath the hair before a noise snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"Well, if that's what you want," Haruhi began. Mori speedily removed his hand from such a position and focused his attention back onto the table. "I do have a friend who runs a nice little sushi shop nearby. So I can just give him a call; his stuff is pretty high quality."

Tamaki looked at her weirdly, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling on it soon enough, handing it to her with a very suspicious expression.

"Be careful, Haruhi; just because the sushi's packaging says 'premium' doesn't mean that it's high quality," she read out loud. "I'm not stupid; I could figure that out on my own." She turned to him.

"How could you do that to me? Daddy even tried to look casual and not embarrass you like Y/n would have wanted.” To which the girl mentioned just shared a glare with her friend. 

"I'd really like it if you made us something for lunch, Haru-chan," Honey voiced happily.

"No, Honey-senpai!" Hikaru yelled.

"How could you ask that of her?!" Kaoru added.

"Don't upset her; try to restrain yourself!" Tamaki commented.

"I guess I could whip something up, but it's going to take me some time," Haruhi told Honey.

"We can wait," Y/n piped up. "I can also help you cook; I know a few things." She mumbled, standing up but getting fingers wrapped around her wrist once again. "I promise i'm not that bad Mori-senpai," She laughed and he removed his fingers, watching her walk away. "It's the least I could do."

"Why didn't we think of that?" the twins whined.

"This means that we will be able to taste Y/n's cooking," Tamaki said.

"I'm going to have to go to the supermarket again," Haruhi sighed.

"We're coming with you!" The twins spoke.

"Me too, me too!" Honey agreed, Y/n nodding her head eagerly, now the whole group in a place where they were wanting to go with.

"Yay! Commoners' supermarket! Commoners' supermarket!"

"This is going to be fun!" Honey yelled, running after Mori as they began to pile out of the room. Yet quickly Haruhi noticed the disappearance of two prominent members. 

"Well, that's it, So much for having the day off." She peaked through the other room, seeing Y/n and Tamaki by her mother's shrine. "Hey senpai, Y/n, are you guys coming?"

"We are; I just thought it would be good to pay our respects," Y/n told her. "She's pretty, like you, Haruhi. I'll meet you outside." She stood up, going out of the apartment where the other members waited.

"Your mother, she seems smart," Tamaki turned towards Haruhi; nonetheless, with the different circumstances of the girl joining the group, friendships were flourishing all around and especially between the blonde and secret girl. 

"Yeah, she was a lawyer," Haruhi informed him, a small smile drifting onto her lips.

"I bet she was a great one, I can tell. Trust me, you can't fool these eyes, Haruhi." Tamaki spoke very softly, his once more energetic demeanor toned down to share respect toward an important woman in his friend's life. 

"I'm not so sure about that senpai," Haruhi deadpanned. "She really was a great lawyer.” And with her comment, the girl got up, waiting for Tamaki to walk out with her, but as soon as he stood, a mysterious banana peel came into view, where the male slipped, falling on top of Haruhi. His hands held up his upper frame, just looming over her as he took in her features for any injuries. 

"Are you okay Haruhi?"

"I'm fine, but you're kind of heavy," she huffed.

"I'm home, Haruhi! Hey, why'd you leave the door open?" Her father walked in, spinning around in their dress.

"Welcome home, dad," Haruhi muttered, her father's eyes laid on the man on top of their daughter. "So dad, how was work?" 

Tamaki started to freak out, his mind running with thoughts about how they would react, how Y/n would react, and that the man standing at the door was truly Haruhi's father.

Haruhi's father walked over, throwing Tamaki off into the wall. "I'm sorry, I hated having to leave you home alone last night. You must have been lonely,"

"That sound, he hit really hard," Haruhi’s eyes widened at the fear of her fathers strength and the undoubted pain her club mate must be in.

"Ah, my arm has been bothering me; I sure could use a cup of hot tea,"

"Hot tea? I'll get it for you. Haruhi, your father wants hot tea; do you use firewood to boil it?" Tamaki started to rush all around the place.

"Oh, look at that; I've seem to come across a little pest. Would you like to tell me why you're addressing my daughter with such informality, young man?" Haruhi's father questioned, yanking on the young man's shirt to pull him back near him.

"Hey, is everything okay here, boss?" Hikaru poked his head through the door, the rest of the club behind him.

"Check it out; the person we passed downstairs is Haruhi's father," Kaoru realized.

"Hikaru, Kaoru, help me out here," Tamaki begged, lying on the floor.

"It's nice to meet you, Haruhi's dad. We're good friends of your daughter's, the Hitachiin brothers," they introduced, stepping on Tamaki to reach the man.

"So you are a crossdresser, aren't you?" Kaoru questioned.

"You're the first real corssdresser we've ever seen!" Hikaru told them.

"Sorry about him; he's a lady's man, if you know what I mean."

"He's a pheromone machine. In fact, I bet he's fooled around with more ladies than you can count," Kaoru explained with great exclamation, both of the twins highlighting the negative behaviors of their club leader. 

"He likes to fool around, huh?" An irk mark appeared on Ranka's face.

"I'm not a lady's man! I don't like your daughter; I only like a different girl. I'm being completely honest here; I care about Haruhi like she's my own daughter, same with Y/n!" The man stood up, flaring his hands all about. It was clear to Haruhi’s father that the blonde was no true threat, and thus he retreated his more intimating demeanor with the other members. 

"I get it; you must be the host club I've heard so much about!" Haruhi's father realized. "You certainly are a fine-looking bunch of men and a very pretty woman." He turned to Y/n, pawing at her hair. "I'm not sure which of you men I like most; all of you just call me Ranka? It's the professional name I use."

"Professional name? You mean like a stage name?" Honey asked.

"Exactly like that, Mitsukuni," Ranka smiled at him.

"Hold on. How did you know my name, sir?"

"You two are third years, Haninozuka Mitzukuni and Morionzuka Takashi." Ranka looked towards them. "You twins are first years and so is Takahashi Y/n; you are in the same class as Haruhi as well."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were Haruhi's father," Y/n apologized, bowing over and over in her seat. "You're so gorgeous and I was so inconsiderate; I should have done research to be prepared-"

"Don't worry, sweetie, I have heard a lot about you already!" She smiled.

"So Haruhi has told you about us?" Hikaru asked.

"No, just Takahashi, but Kyoya has told me about you two over the phone.”

"You truly are an amazing person, Ranka." The rest of the group looked oddly at this Kyoya, who plastered on a grateful grin. "We have been entrusted with the care of his special daughter; it's only natural that we introduce ourselves and give him periodic reports. Ordinarily that would be your job, wouldn't it?" Kyoya looked over at the shy Tamaki, who faced away—knees to his chest—from the others.

"I'm impressed the club has such a capable president!" Ranka admired. At the unknown notion that her father was communicating with Kyoya for a long period of time, his daughter jumped in anger at being left out of the light. She angrily packed up her purse and stood walking towards the door. "Haruhi, where are you going?"

"The supermarket, alright?" She rested her hand at the doorknob and looked back at Y/n. "I have to go shopping; Y/n is coming with, and the rest of you will stay here; try to behave yourselves.”

Y/n jumped up, waving goodbye to the group and rushing after Haruhi.

"Thank you, Haruhi!" She thanked, a small blush appearing on the said girl's cheeks.

"It-it's nothing; let's just get going." She stuttered, taking Y/n's hand and dragging her out of the door.

"Wait! We wanted to go to a commoners supermarket," Hikaru called out.

"I wouldn't bother; once she has made her mind up, she'll never change it!" Ranka lightly chuckled. She then explained how Haruhi has made most of the decisions on her own, like when she transferred to Ouran High School.

"I hope you boys know I'm thankful for you, and Y/n, since she met you, she seems happier. She's enjoying herself; wouldn't you think so, Suou Tamaki?" Ranka turned to the boy, who was now in a closet, basking in his sadness as mushrooms popped up around. 

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, I've heard a thing or two about when Haruhi was trying to get Y/n to join the group," Ranka smiled. "You're the one that didn't realize Haruhi was a girl until the last moment. You're clueless, aren't you? Pretty pathetic. Now that we've gotten all the introductions out of the way, how would you boys like to have a little fun?"

"Why didn't he tell me? I had no idea Kyoya-senpai has been calling my dad and giving him updates," Haruhi expressed tiredly.

"He might have felt it was important, I mean, he just wants to be involved in your life, it's easy to tell how much he loves you." Y/n patted her shoulder and then pulled her into a side hug. "You have to admit you're an independent person; it's not a bad thing, but sometimes other people want in too.”

"Yeah," she grinned, looking at Y/n. "You're also independent yourself, you know? Worse than me." She nudged her shoulder back, causing Y/n to laugh.

The rest of the Host Club members stayed back with Ranka, all sneakily looking at Y/n and Haruhi. Ranka wore a long coat, glasses, and a scarf to better hide their appearance as the rest of the boys followed along, hiding behind different objects and podiums.

"So we're going to follow them to the supermarket?" The twins questioned.

"This is what you meant by 'fun'?" Kyoya asked.

"Yes! I call it the stalking game." She threw them back a thumbs up, covering her face at the moment.

"What an attractive group of young men!" A woman whispered to another.

"In all honesty, I have a completely selfish reason for bringing you out with me. I want to be seen with a bunch of cute boys!" Ranka exclaimed, taking her glasses off and showing off her face.

At the supermarket, they watched Haruhi look at vegetables with Y/n at her side.

"OO! Haruhi, what about these vegetables?" She held up some lettuce. "Do you need this? Wait,  it doesn't look as nice as the lettuce in the salads at my home." Y/n stuck a finger to her chin, looking at the vegetable oddly.

"I doubt it is; yours is most likely grown in your garden," Haruhi laughed. "I could still use it for something else; feel free to put it in the basket."

"Thank you, Haruhi! Shopping is kind of fun."

"You don't go shopping?"

"Nope, I've only been to a store a few times, including our journey here earlier today," Y/n told her, wandering off to look at some coffee and bringing it back. 

“Do you really think it is necessary to follow her around like this?” Tamaki and Ranka peeked out from behind an aisle filled with different canned goods. “Are you that worried about her?”

“As you know, Haruhi lost her mother at a young age, and afterwards she took on all of the chores and shopping by herself. I decided to start following her whenever she would leave the house; maybe I’m just being overprotective?” Ranka sighed, patting her cheeks in deep thought. “I worry about her all the time; I’m the only one who can protect her, you know? Either she does not know how to depend on others or refuses to. She’s always been so independent and so strong. And she has this uncanny ability to affect others without even realising it.”

“That’s true; I’ve seen it." The president stared off, agreeing with the parental figure. He watched the two girls, Y/n nudging along the shoulder of Haruhi as they giggled off about something. They were finding pure, simple enjoyment in the task, truly enjoying one another's company. 

The girls didn't notice Honey, who was being pushed by Mori in the back, or the twins looking around themselves. "Hey Tamaki-senpai, what are you doing here?" Y/n turned around to look at the man.

"I followed you guys here so I could carry your shopping basket; you know how Daddy loves accessories." He awkwardly chuckled, ripping the basket away from her hands.

"Tamaki! What should we make?" Y/n grabbed him, dragging him over to a new section. "Isn't it so amazing how this place is set up and all the foods?” The girl excitedly took a turn of her head back to her female friend, “Haruhi! Come over and look with us!”

He looked down at her, admiring her, quiet for a moment before snapping out of his thoughts and joining in the conversation. "Yeah, we should make a stewpot, ones with lots of meat but no chrysanthemums," Tamaki told them.

"Does that sound okay, Haruhi? I'll help you make it!" Y/n beamed, looking at Haruhi intently.

"That's fine.”

"Here, Tamaki, take some chrysanthemum! You're favorite!" Ranka put more into his bowl, piling it up on top of the stew. "Y/n, you adorable girl, take some extra meat!”

"Ah, thank you, Ranka!" She grinned cheerily underneath her mask. "We did a good job." Y/n looked over at Haruhi, lifting up a spoonful of some of the stew to her lips. 

"Yeah, we did,” a soft hum left the girls lips before opening them up wider to take in the tasteful flavors of the stew. Ranka looked at her daughter, engaging with the other girl happily. It was clear that a certain host member of the group brought out more vibrant emotions from their daughter, and to admire the simple experience between the two girls caused his soul to shine a little brighter. 

Ranka laughed to herself, picking up a spoonful from their own bowl, "Alright, Haruhi, dear, try some of mine!”

next chapter - Big Brother is a Prince!

[sweetgirlmelodyy]

"Hey hey Lover!" P1

BF Kinich x Fem! Reader

Content contains - Sunshine x Grumpy troupe, fluff, wholesome stuff, modern AU

Just another day of school, y/n isn't one to enjoy going to school but of course she still goes to see her friends and her cute boyfriend Kinich <3

As per usual, y/n would greet her friends and her beloved with a cheerful smile on her face everyday.

"Good morning Kinich! >:D"

You happily greeted him as he waited for you outside your house, both of you would often walk to school together or walk home together. Kinich looked tired, definitely because he was staying up late playing video games.

"Sometimes I wonder how you have this much energy every morning..."

He muttered out, he took out his hand for y/n to hold, she happily took his hand as they began walking to school. Entering the school gates, y/n immediately ran to her bestie and pounced at her as a way to greet her. (so nice ^^)

"Y/N I TOLD YOU TO STOP RANDOMLY POUNCING ON ME, YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK MY BACK-"

Citlali protested, until she looked up to see Kinich's glare. Kinich would often had that look whenever y/n's friends yelled at her or insult her even when it's just a joke. Citlali immediately became silent from his intimidating stare, although he was just usually grumpy every morning (same tho-). Not everyone knows that, except for y/n of course since they tend to hang out a lot after school or weekends.

Y/n and Kinich had been dating for nearly a year now, and till this day her friends don't know why Y/n would date him especially that he has a cold demeanor but surprisingly he was the one who confessed.

"Aww Kinich, turn that frown upside down!"

She smiled at him softly, he huffed and smiled a bit just enough to satisfy y/n ^^.

------ Time skip ------ (lazy-)

When students were getting ready to leave, y/n waited at the front of the gate waiting for Kinich, her eyes brightened when she saw Kinich. His hair was wet after swimming class, but having swimming class as a last lesson sucks to be honest.

"Oh? I guess we should just go home and go to the cafe tomorrow, incase you catch a cold-"

Y/n suggested before Kinich cut her off.

"I'll be fine."

He sounded so eager just to hang out with her, despite that she was worried he might catch a cold due to the windy weather and his hair was still wet after swimming class.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get sick..."

She frowned in worry for his wellbeing, Kinich took her wrist as they began walking towards the nearby cafe not so far away from their school.

At the cafe, both of them sat down after ordering some drinks and food! They both chatted random stuff, Kinich suddenly sneezed it was slightly loud since there wasn't a lot of people in the cafe. Y/n frowned and spoke.

"I told you we should just go home, I don't want you to get sick tomorrow..."

Kinich constantly say that he'll be alright as a way to reassure her, y/n wasn't convinced he would be kind of stubborn at some times.

They didn't stay at the cafe for too long since the forecast on her phone said it might rain, they both walked home together looking at the condition of the weather. It was so windy and cloudy, there is absolutely no way it isn't going to rain! Y/n looked at Kinich seeing him shiver, despite him not making any sounds she noticed his hand shaking so much while holding his hot green tea. He didn't bring his jacket today and so y/n took off her jacket and placed it over his shoulders, Kinich noticed her generous gesture and spoke up to protest.

"Y/n you don't have to give up your jacket for me, I'll be fine-"

Y/n hushed him, saying he looked like he was going to freeze to death, his was completely red because of the current weather, Kinich's eyes softened and then he sneezed once again. It was a clear sign to y/n that he was going to get sick...

To be continued...

I'll probs start taking requests, I have no idea what to write sometimes- Anyways hope yall liked it :3

[jasvtsc]

young!jensen x reader. ex-bf!jensen x reader.

discreet glances.

small smiles.

mouthing things you couldn’t say aloud.

secret touches under the table. 

your pinky finger rubbing his as he had his hand on your knee.

all of that? it turned into complete ignorance.

you were confused about what caused your breakup with jensen. you both were fine. everything was fine. up until one night, it wasn’t anymore. you came back home, where he was already waiting for you, his head hung low as he kept his hands clasped tightly together. you could see a small tremble in them as if he was holding back his sadness. or anger. you couldn’t tell. 

you dropped your bag and tilted your head to the side, slowly approaching him. you were quiet. he was quiet. the whole apartment was quiet except for the clock, slowly ticking in the background, and some white noise coming from the kitchen. you felt your heart slowly coming up your throat as he finally lifted his glossy green eyes to look at you. once so full of life and love, now replaced with sadness and heartbreak.

exactly 38 minutes and 16 seconds later, you and jensen broke up. he said it was distance and work. you both were young, freshly rising stars. you had your projects — most of them abroad, and he had his stuff here. it wouldn’t have worked, that’s what he said. and you just agreed. 'cause what else was there? if he didn’t want to fight for the two of you, why should you? two people make a relationship. not one.

so, once cheerful looks turned to avoidance of eye contact whenever your eyes met.

once quiet chuckles turned to sternness and ignoring each other.

once intimate touches turned into keeping distance as if one of you had some kind of disease.

you tried to move on. you tried. after spending countless hours crying yourself to sleep and wondering what you did wrong, you finally stepped out into the world again. slowly, you were regaining your spirit, that gleam in your eyes you lost due to the heartbreak. but most importantly, you finally let go of your past. of him. 

maybe one day your paths will cross again.

jensen also tried to get back on track. but the looming feeling of guilt and realisation that he had lost the best things in his entire life hung heavy on his shoulders. he knew he made a mistake. he should’ve never chosen his career over you. you were always supporting him, you were there for him and he went and dumped it cause what? a young heartthrob like him would lose fans if others found out he was in a relationship. he knew he should’ve never listened to his manager. but now? it was too late. you were gone. 

now, whenever he saw you, his eyes were full of longing.

his heart was crying for you.

he knew that he had to talk to you again. no matter if you hated him. he had to see you.

you were in your assigned place at some awards show. and you weren’t sure if it was just your luck or he did that on purpose, but jensen was sitting next to you. at first, you were thinking about changing your seat, but then again, there was no bad blood between the two of you. you could act like adults, right?

“baby, listen to me, i’m sorry— “ he started, turning his head to look at you with those green eyes that had so much depth to them. and again, you could see that love in them. fuck, you were crumbling. you weren’t over him as much as you thought that you were.

“hey, it’s okay. it’s fine. we’re fine.”

“we’re not, ‘kay? i regret my decision every single fucking minute of the day. i’m a fucking idiot. i should’ve never break your heart like that. i love you, baby. please, i— ” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “i’m sorry. about everything.”

you didn’t know what to do. your heart was yearning for him. you missed him, so much. but he broke your heart, there was no going back from that.

so, you sat in silence, just staring at each other as people around were clapping and cheering for the person on stage. but you didn’t care nor did jensen. his whole world was sitting right in front of him.

a/n: okay so yeah i wrote a little sth and tbh im not sure how i feel about it lmao i just hope that you enjoy it guys <3

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas