#like the ones that are known for weight gain?
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It's 8.51 am. I'm in the queue of other students waiting to be let into the main hall. It's cramped and busy this time around, and the building cacophony of humanity gathered in numbers has slowly turned to a white noise that barely matters. I let out a tired little sigh, and in doing so, I'm reminded by the gentle familiar aroma of something I forgot to get this morning. Coffee, I really should have picked one up this morning. Before I can lose myself in recalling the taste of my forgotten love, Sarah dances her tiny hips wiggling through the crowd, my ever positive, seemingly always happy roommate cuts in line with a small paper cup that brings me warm caramel scented joy. Sarah has that kind of smile that just melts away your worries, I often wonder how come she's always so happy. " I was just in the middle of my morning routine when I realised you might need this." Sarah's voice was soft and calm as she handed over the paper cup of sweet coffee. " Thank you , I would say you have no idea how much I need this, but then here you are, so I guess you did somehow" and now I'm smiling back at her almost shy and that's nuts because Sarah and I have known each other for months. Yet somehow I'm still embarrassed and shy around her at times.
The doors of the hall open up, and the clamour and chatter stops briefly, only to become a moving herd of humanity slowly wandering into the dark main hall. The hall has been altered and decorated for today's guest speaker. Today's guest is a former Field Marshal of the British army, and now Dr. Michael Aster 52 and Retired, he recently gained media attention for his views on how easily people are controlled by media. And that one short clip of him knife throwing with an accuracy that terrifies me personally.
Taking our seats next to each other, Sarah and I share one more smile as the presentation starts at 9.00am to the second. Immaculate time keeping aside, our speaker today obviously intended to set the tone.
" If you are not already seated, leave immediately because you are late." Dr. Aster's voice commanded with authority as it filled and echoed the hall , even without a microphone, he knew how to get peoples attention.
" IMMEDIATELY ," Dr. Aster said again, this time his tone seemed to tear out the unworthy as if treating a wound in a battlefield. Ripping them out like an unwanted piece of shrapnel.
Sarah seemed really excited about this presentation for some reason. She was wiggling excitedly like a child who knows they are about to get ice cream.
Once the late sitters vacated the hall, Dr. Aster began. " That was easy . Did you see how many of them just left ?" The hall was entirely silent. No one dared say a word. He had us captivated with a weight of authority and a fear that comes with a high state of focus.
And still, Sarah sits there smiling. She must know more about what's going to happen next. I stop worrying because she's so joyful. As odd as it seems, Sarah just knows how to calm me without words.
Dr. Aster continued
" These people who just left were easily manipulated with fear. They all believed they had committed an act of poor conduct by being late"
" But we're they late ? , no, they were on time."
" I told them they were late and they left because I told them to do so"
" None of them questioned it. None of them raised a hand or offered any form of interjection at all"
" Do any of you know why that all happened so easily and with total compliance? "
Dr. Aster's eyes seemed to sharply and quickly examine the students still in the hall. As his gaze pierced through us. In this moment, it felt as though my feet couldn't leave the floor.
Dr. Aster's voice now calmly moved onto what seemed to be his presentation.
" They all understand my authority and as such recognised me as a superior, personal agency was bypassed and they experienced an agentic shift. "
" If you look under your seats in just a moment when I instruct you to do so, you will find a paper bag"
Almost half of the students reached immediately, trying to sneak a glance at the bag and its contents. And the absolute fury that came next was unexpected and powerful.
" ALL OF YOU WHO JUST REACHED FOR THE BAG STAND UP AND REMOVE YOURSELVES FROM THIS HALL IMMEDIATELY WITHOUT SAYING A WORD" Dr aster's voice was so intimidating, even more so than I have ever known a person to be. As if he executed a grip on my heartbeat and could squeeze it with his voice at will.
I considered joining the rest of those who started to leave , but once again, looking over at Sarah, who is seemingly transfixed on the Dr. Her smile was still present but kind of softer than before. She was calm and still engaged in the speech of this man.
The rabble of curious minds so unwanted and undesireable left without a word, and in finally exiting the hall, we began again.
Dr. Aster's presentation now hit its stride with a captive audience, and with total control of the room, he explains the methods used in the military and in media to coerce us or guide us into an action either softly or with fear.
The whole time, there is an audio of white noise playing in the background. None of us dared to bring it up for fear of being singled out by this seemingly terrifying figure cloaked in the form of Dr. Aster.
Then I notice that almost all of us here are girls , maybe most boys are rudely late and inherently curious. It appears most of the boys had left. In fact, I'm pretty sure the remaining students are girls. only about 50 or 60 of us, but I'm pretty sure it's all girls now.
" This next clip I'm about to show you has various suggestions hidden inside it "
I'm going to play it, and you're going to pay attention to it. Do not take your eyes off the screen at any time. Is that understood?"
" I want you to be able to identify the suggestions , its important to you , yes, each of you to find all of them. If one of you misses a single suggestion hidden in this clip, we go again. So it is in your interest to watch very closely relax and take in everything you see"
" Once we start, you will need to recall the suggestions after we finish, I will ask each of you to recall a suggestion from the clip. One by one, you need to remember what you saw."
Dr. Aster's voice was somehow so controlling. I didn't doubt that for a second we would miss a thing. But the idea we might miss something pushes me into a state of intense focus.
Sarah's smile is now gone. She reaches over and holds my hand in my lap, and she seems so still and calm like she's done this a hundred thousand times before.
" Just watch it's really easy to follow this. I'm right here with you. You can do this "
Sarah's voice has a soft calming influence on me, and I prepare myself for the coming test.
Her hand presses against mine.
" Remember you want to see all of the suggestions every one of them or we do it again"
Sarah said those words and I felt confident we would win this game and test of focus.
The clip plays , it flashes so fast I barely saw a thing it was over in 2 seconds. I'm nervous. I think I missed all of them.
Dr Aster snaps his fingers, they echo the hall, and the echo resonates through my mind, as he points at me, my heart stops as he calls out.
" You know them all i can see it in your eyes . Tell me a suggestion you saw"
" Obey "
I said that without thinking I couldn't possibly have seen that, but my voice spoke out like it was the truth.
" Excellent well done, great job," he said immediately, pointing at Sarah he snaps his fingers.
" Slave" she calls out with a weakness to her tone.
Sarah is void of all emotion, and it's strange to see. But she is still holding my hand just like before.
" Excellent, well done, great job," he says as that finger snaps to point at another.
" Master " calls out another weak female voice as if so calm, almost asleep. He asks around the room a few more times before the inevitable happens. Someone misses a suggestion
" I'll play it again. This time, really focus like it's all you have to do. Nothing else is required of you. You only need to focus and receive these suggestions. I will play it a little longer this time to make sure you get them. "
He's giving us a chance this time at least.
The clip plays again, and the white noise just seems to help me this time. I see the words hidden this time, all of them. It's like the clip is somehow slower now, and it's easier to spot the words.
Obey, slave, obey ,master, obey, for, pleasure.
The clip is still going over and over , I see them all now, but it's still going. It's speeding up again, and my mind races to keep up.
The girls in the room have started saying the words out aloud , all of them reciting it like a mantra, all the girls all doing as he said.
" Obey slave obey master obey for pleasure"
Sarah's hand cups my face as she stares at me with a blank thousand yard stare.
" Obey slave obey master obey for pleasure"
Sarah's voice and the chanting mantra go on for minutes before I find myself repeating the mantra each word and feeling it sealing itself in the deepest parts of my mind. A new truth or perhaps an old one and now very much a part of my mind.
Over and over, we chant , the pace quickens my heart beats faster, I feel myself about to pass out before . . . .blank
I wake up to the sound of rapturous applause, and Dr. Aster waving at the hall of students.
As we leave, Sarah takes me over to meet him, I'm confused. What just happened?
As we approach him, I feel myself becoming weak. I'm standing in front of him, and I can't take my eyes off his name tag.
Dr M.Aster
" Master " I say out aloud without a thought of how it might not be appropriate.
He snaps his fingers. I look up at his eyes utterly transixed. I can't look away, and I don't want to. I must pay attention. I must focus. I must not miss a suggestion.
He leans over to me, places his heavy hand on my shoulder, and says in a commanding and yet lowered tone.
" Tonight you will come back here at 11pm sharp with Sarah and the others so you can feel pleasure for obeying your master. You will obey this order slave, and you will be rewarded."
I nod.
He is my master , and it's like he always has been my master and he simply reminded me he was. His power is intoxicating. I want to experience pleasure from my master now more than anything else.
He releases his hand from my shoulder, and my eyes can move again, I'm smiling, and I blush before saying thank you and leave.
As Sarah and I leave, I slowly feel more awake and like I was before. The way I did before I walked through those hall doors. Sarah smiles happily again, looks over at me like she knows a secret she's dying to tell me.
But I smile back , I do know the secret , I do know why she smiles so much. I have a Master and it's all I ever wanted. And we are going to meet him again very soon.
#chvrch of the darkest mind#brainwashing#hypnosis#hypnotism#hypnotized#conditioning#coercion#A story from Chvrch
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Bonds period undies suck and so does the fact their bras only go up to size 16
Will SOMEone please think abt the Big Tiddy Committee. Like yeah sure tell me to get over it cos there's other brands exceptlike NO THERE'S NOT in New Zealand, there's only like five bra brands in the whole North Island and they all are either too small or hurt/itchy or a fun mix of both.
In the meantime am obsessed with Kmart's full figure ribbed longline bra or whatever it's called. I have five of them in nearly all the colours. Very autistic i know lol,. I am sick of wasting money on nicer bras that turn out to be so itchy/painful they're unwearable (and unsure if you can return because "it's so itchy it's unwearable")
Listen: us autistic girlies with highly sensitive skin etc, when we find something we like that also doesn't put us in PAIN any time we wear it, we absolutely must buy it (in every other colour available, to make it look like we actually change our clothes) so we can either wear it everyday like a personal uniform, or more casually and have backups when it completely wears out irreparably.
So clown on me all ya want for shopping Kmart, but this b* is more sustainable than any eco warrior could ever lol. I wear clothes till they are literally falling apart, worn down to a pulp. And i avoid the clothing they sell that I can tell are see-through just from the product image of garment on the model.
Also am poor and came upon the realisation recently that 90-95% of Shein clothes are made of plastic and my temp dysregulation can't handle plastic clothes anymore summers are getting too hot to be wearing polyester everything, what with climate change not going well and only about to get even worse under the rise of the US oligarchy reign.
But sustainable natural fibre clothing prices are far too dear for me (and I can't thrift shop due to various reasons to do with my disabilities - a lot of reasons that don't even get touched on when criticizing the "sustainability" movement etc) and that's not really sustainable financially for many a consumer, there was another thing to say*
but instead of me continuing to defend myself in anticipation of people coming at me (getting prematurely defensive, or riled, if you will, lol) umm maybe instead of demanding no-one shop at budget-friendly places, just don't shame poor/disabled people for how we manage to afford clothing that doesn't hurt us financially and/or physically?
#*i think the fact that often sustainable or pure natural clothing does not extend to plus sizes#which is ridiculous and kinda inhumane actually bc we usually suffer more in the heat and polyester makes you hotter???#sustainability#and I'm finna wear these bras down to the Ground#or until the Girls are reaching the ground lol#but honestly with my bra size is as chaotic as umm the nucleus?#ima need a whole new size before that happens#the only annoyingly unsustainable thing about all this is that no-one whats worn underwear#which is fair enough but makes a girl feel guilty#when she graduates to next size up + can no longer stuff her nunga-nungas into the same size anymore#i didn't choose the antipsychotics life the antipsychotics life chose me 😭#has anyone ever actually lost weight on antipsychs?#like the ones that are known for weight gain?#or anyone that's ever been on Olanzapine for any significant amount of time?#it's like impossible#since antipsychs i have like no control over my weight it just goes up and down as it so pleases#i used to have a pretty fast natural metabolism#ramblings#Rachel rambles#fuck I've got a lotta stuff to get done and i forgot abt my coffee just sitting here waiting for me
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penelope canonically retreating to her room and refusing food = she puts on some weight, the reason being both lack of physical activity as well as her body being on constant emergency mode (so what little she does eat ends up being stored away bc the body doesnt know when the 'starvation' will end). whats more her constant stress elevates cortisol levels which in and of itself leads to weight gain esp in the abdominal area.
tl;dr chubby penelope send fucking t w e e t
#that is it that is the post#cortisol is also known as the stress hormone#helps u wake up & regulates metabolism among other things#it helps you cope with stress but too much of it (much like anything else in life) is not good for you and your health#this has been on my mind for so long#no im not projecting#shush#thinking abt her naiad heritage too#like maybe she can get through long periods without or with very little food but her human body's nutritional needs prevail idk#and then midnight snacks maybe lol#away from the piercing gaze of the wretched suitors and judgemental looks of certain maidservants#chubby penelope for the soul#penelope of ithaca#my beloved muffin#with razor sharp teef#give the cinammon roll some tummy rolls!!#BONUS: when ody comes home they both heal together and side by side#coming to terms with just how merciless the years have been#ody gains healthy weight after years of abuse in ogygia (i hc he purposely denied himself proper food bc thats the only agency he had#as well as the making urself undesirable to the abuser)#and penelope goes for swims and perhaps bonds with telemachus in a new way like races and swimming competitions aw#as well as teaching him some naiad stuff he probably inherited#family healing yay!#:')#btw not saying they go back to their 20 year old physiques#what i am saying is they now take better care of themselves and each other#and one of the ways its reflected is in their frames#i think we need more middle aged odypen art#and age accurate content in general#esp post odyssey
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even though i really love what hrt is doing to me it has made me so self conscious because i know my body is changing more visibly now and i don't like the idea that people who know me very well will be able to see that. i just hate the idea of people looking at me. and i worry that the people i care about will like me less the more they look at me because i'm ugly
#some of my mum's family keep calling me fat now bc of the t weight gain as well which is irritating to me#1) i'm still clinically underweight according to the doctor 2) so fucking what if i was. why is it my problem that you're archaic#if you think being fat is bad that's like. fully your problem. that's on you. grow up and get a grip#and also i'm already hyper aware of the fact that my body has changed. i don't need you to keep drawing attention to it#it's frustrating because like. i WANT to gain weight. i feel way better abt how i look and i feel like i'm more attractive#but they keep making me feel guilty for it and like everyone is silently noticing and judging me for it#it's like. the whole time you've known me i've been miserable and consistently trying to off myself#i also spent my ENTIRE childhood and teen years taking care of my siblings + grandmother bc you guys couldn't be arsed#and now i'm finally doing something for myself that is making me way happier and you can't let me have that#i still have to see them regularly because they're living with my grandmother who i am obligated to visit#partly because she's ill and partly because i'm the one who does all her chores that she can't do anymore#because you guessed it. the family members living with her just sit around doing fuck all so i have to do it all instead#and last weekend i spent five hours raking leaves + moving bricks so when i came back in i was starving#and AS SOON as i started eating my (fake)auntie was like. girl you eat too much.#BROTHER ?????????? suck my fat cock ??? leave me alone ?????????#being so Out in the real world vs being so insanely Closeted in front of my family is so ew#it reminds me of being a closeted teenager living at home feeling like i was constantly harbouring this embarrassing evil secret#when really i'm just putting gel on my arm every day and eating five packets of ramen in one sitting#when i'm in queer spaces / on my own / having sex i feel so good abt myself i don't have an ounce of dysphoria#and then i go home and it's like oh. i'm actually the most disgusting evil creature on this planet and i deserve death#whatever. trans people and lesbians think i'm hot and i got mad head game so who gives a fuck
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Not to be a jingfu on main, but it's so cute that Jing Yuan thought of Fu Xuan with those jelly beans
#me: the Xianzhou characters are all just coworkers#also me whenever anyone is shown to be fond and have intimate knowledge of some other character: awwww#Like Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan playing starchess and teasing each other or making a reference to things they like#or Jing Yuan talking about young Yukong#Quingque apparently disliking Fu Xuan but obviously that not being the case‚ knowing what she likes and how she thinks#Fu Xuan hiding that she has a sweet tooth but Jing Yuan and Quingque knowing it and teasing her for it#I don't know. There are a lot of instances of these small intimate details in the middle of what looks like a coworker relationship#Good coworkers‚ but coworkers nonetheless#And ironically it moves me so much? Even more so than Belobog. I've been told several times that Belobog seemed more tight. And I agree#In Belobog people were friends or family or companions but linked by something closer than mere coworkers with Wildfire#Even Sampo in the Underworld was strangely 'theirs'. He had the magenta colour of Wildfire and he was trusted to some extent#The Luofu characters don't have that. And yet the fragments of intimacy scattered through their interactions move me a lot#These are people who have known each other for centuries. Jing Yuan knows of Yukong's youth‚ its joy and grief#He knows Fu Xuan has a sweet tooth and teases her about her height. Quingque does too#Fu Xuan chastises both of them for being lazy but she knows they're smart and good at their job. She plays starchess with Jing Yuan#Quingque mocks Fu Xuan for being a workaholic but is very aware of the weight she carries both in her position and ideas about destiny#I won't mention Yanqing and Bailu because there is obviously more than a coworker bound when it comes to them#But yes I love the moments of intimate knowledge scattered through the Xianzhou‚ so telling of the fact that these people have known#each other for longer than several human lifetimes‚ and that perhaps they don't necessarily regard each other as more than their coworker#But perhaps that's enough in order for them to care. Perhaps in a lifetime over one thousand years the intimacy gained with a coworker#through several centuries is something beyond what we could understand in our decades lifespan#But also‚ perhaps‚ I don't know. Also‚ perhaps‚ the do care beyond coworkers in that strange line between work and friendship#Perhaps it's strange for Xianzhou natives to tell apart that kind of relationship after so much intimacy and knowledge through the years#And perhaps‚ once again‚ as it often happens for them‚ they think they'll always have enough time to tell; until they run out of it#They play chess together. Quingque can lose time because Fu Xuan can't stay mad if she brings her sweets. Are they just coworkers?#We play chess. I know what tea and sweets you like best. I brought them today since you would indulge me and play starchess with me#Thanks for playing with me‚ I'm running out of book puzzles. You keep divining my moves but I'll invent a fake story to distract you#Are we coworkers or something more like friends? Where is the line after so many years?#I talk too much but I love this charged nothingness haha I find it ironically so true to how many relationships in real life develop#And I find it so moving‚ that representation of this endearing smallness of everyday life. Of these small things is life made
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#vent post vent post lalalala#i wanted to post some pictures from my weekend trip with my friends before its too late but then i saw my fucking face and now i wanna kms#like oh my god. oh my god this is really truly the face im stuck with forever and ever and ever till the day im fuckin rotting in the groun#incredible how unfair life can be lmao (<- girl who is having such incredibly superficial stupid fucking problems but is otherwise#quite privileged but of course that will never be fucking enough for her because she's soooooo fckn stupid and selfish and annoyinggg lol)#i dont know why im so obsessed with it now#like i genuinely remember KNOWING that im kinda ugly (and fat) in high school and being like 'so what lol idc'#so WHY is it such an issue now?????#idk. i just kinda wish i was dead every time i look at my face and realise there's nothing i can do to change it#i can dress in ways that will cover my ugly ass shapeless body. maybe i can even go back to my ed properly this time#and lose some weight. for a time. before i gain back twice as much and the circle begins anew lol#but my face is not gonna change no matter what i do lmao unless i fucking scrape it off with a grater or smash my head into pieces#and like. even if i do get that rhinoplasty (its not gonna change my faceshape anyway. nothing i can do to fix THAT fuckin atrocity)#every time ill look in the mirror i will only be reminded that its fake. and that my natural face was disgusting enough it had to be cut up#to be fixed somewhat.#i just wish i had ONE. just ONE nice thing about my body. literally just one its not even funny lol#and its so fucked up when you look at my mom who was so insanely fucking beautiful when she was my age. like. i cant blame her#cause how could she have known that the genes she'll pass on will not result in anything good lol but also i feel like such a failure#like its not really my fault i got the genes i got. but yknow.#anyway im tired of always being the ugliest person in any group im hanging out with. my cousins? check. my hometown friends? check.#my uni friends? my GOD check (how ARE they all so pretty and skinny??? insane).#god i wish i were dead. like fr fr. im not actively suicidal since i cant bring myself to *do* shit anyway. but i just wish i never existed
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but anyway on another unrelated note, everyday at work I feel a part of me dying inside because my coworkers are all 40 year-olds and up and they were all raised with a conservative catholic mindset and that's how they express themselves. Yesterday it was open homophobia and today open fatphobia. Constantly feeling triggered and having episodes but I'm not gonna say anything because it'd be like running into a brick wall over and over again
#like it hurts me to see that all these grown bkg adults are so old already and still stuck in these stereotypes#they are the ones with severe body image issues but they're disguising it as being health and wellness people kinda when in reality#if they were to gain weight or be fat they'd feel like a failure as a person#and don't even get me started on the homophobia...hetero is still the only standard setting for them#And I'm like HELLO I DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I AM BUT I'VE KNOWN A LONG TIME THAT IT ISN'T STRAIGHT#here I am a fat queer person secretly invading them from the inside and they don't even know 🤭#Anyway never telling them about this and my mental illnesses etc#they don't deserve it and also I'm too weak a person to withstand their reactions 🥲#ok i'm done#personal#work life#the office
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𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]
c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆
Spencer wakes to an empty room.
He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.
He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls.
Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay.
Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case.
A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.
Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him?
He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens.
You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway.
Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates.
“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.
He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.
“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.”
You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?
“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.”
“They cut my hair?” he croaks.
“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”
“I…”
“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows.
“You look different than the last time I saw you.”
He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?
“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets.
Your fingers slip into his with ease.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves.
“Of course you can.”
He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…”
“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?”
You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart.
“What happened to you?” he asks.
Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask.
“What…”
“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes.
“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.
“Spencer?”
Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap.
His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says.
“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.”
“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.”
“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously.
“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing.
Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again.
—
“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks.
You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap.
“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.”
“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek.
Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.”
“But I do eventually?”
“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly.
You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.”
“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says.
“Sort of,” Spencer says.
It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then.
“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks.
Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?”
You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”
“Not you?” he asks.
You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.”
When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag.
You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it.
“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer.
“Uh.”
“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.”
“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says.
He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out.
“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”
Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.”
“You dog,” Derek says.
“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.”
“I do know you,” Spencer says.
“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table.
Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.”
“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says.
Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.”
“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.”
“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.”
“Every week?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“We’re never apart?” he asks.
His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks.
“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze.
Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks.
Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too.
“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.”
“We do?”
“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.”
“We did?”
You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.”
“How do you love?”
His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day. “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.”
“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says.
“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh.
“I just can’t believe this is happening.”
You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.”
He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger.
“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”
It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into.
“Can I ask you something?” you ask.
“Anything.”
He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams.
“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.”
“Who wouldn’t like you?”
“But did you?”
He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.”
“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.”
You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?”
“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily.
“What do you think?”
“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.”
You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”
He gives a choky laugh.
The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you.
Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock.
“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly.
“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”
Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?”
Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”
“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.”
“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile.
“Has she been kind to you, Reid?”
“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?”
Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.
—
It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on.
You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space.
Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.
Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss.
He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely.
Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him.
“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”
You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!”
You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.”
“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.”
You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?”
He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.”
You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.”
He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.”
You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.”
He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”
“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.”
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆
thanks for reading!
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Boyfriend kuna who has the pleasure of meeting your giant domesticated cat that looks exactly like him (but no one actually sees the resemblance except you..)
"That fucker is big. You sure it's not some wild feral cat?"
"Don't call him a fucker! And he's not feral... not anymore, at least."
Kittykuna seems indifferent to your cooing and doting as he remains in a loaf position, and something about the scene feels strangely familiar...
Kittykuna makes eye contact with sukuna - and then hisses.
"... i can see that he's certainly friendly."
"Oh, dont be like that. It took me ages to get close to him as well."
Kittykuna seems very protective of you. Whenever you're lounging about in the living room, he will curl up on your lap or in your arms, and make biscuits on your plush body while making eye contact with sukuna, purring. It mildly pisses him off, but he can't make it known that he's even remotely jealous of a cat.
They clash a lot, you often hear sukuna cursing under his breath and verbally chastising your cat, but their harmless beef and the way he will sometimes return with little scratches or bite marks on his arms make you laugh so hard. It takes a few weeks for them to warm up to each other.
It's very entertaining to watch kittykuna obscure sukuna's vision with his tail when he's lying down to watch tv. He takes his revenge later on by pretending to give him treats, only to hover it away from him. You have to intervene in the end, to scold him for teasing your cat too much.
Sukuna then comes up with a brilliant idea of getting a second cat.
"Don't you think it's a bit boring for him being alone in the house all the time?"
"Really? I don't know... he can be a bit territorial, I'm worried he won't get along with a new cat well."
"Never know 'til we try it."
And then, well, sukuna ends up bringing another cat home. Of course, you don't notice it, but she resembles you.
It takes time to properly and slowly introduce the new cat to your home and to kittykuna. They're both very cautious of each other at first. But you soon see the ice melting, with them gradually becoming comfortable enough to be in the same room, to sharing toys, eating meals together, and then finally beginning to groom each other.
In fact, you find that they soon become inseparable. You've never seen kittykuna become so clingy before. It's like every other day that you see him licking the other cat's fur in his arms, while it purrs contently with her eyes closed.
Sukuna seems proud of himself.
"What did i tell you? He was lonely."
"You didn't say lonely. You said bored," you correct him, crossing your arms.
"Whatever you say, princess."
Watching the cats be all lovey dovey makes him feel like doing the same...
Months later, it soon comes to your attention, that the newer kitty has gained a bit of weight. When you and sukuna take her to the vet (to kittykuna's displeasure) you find out that she is pregnant.
The gasp you let out is dramatic, and sukuna can only laugh as he shakes his head.
"The two of you have been up to naughty things while we weren't watching..." you tell the cats with your hands on your hips. You should've seen it coming, from the way kittykuna always seemed to mount the new cat possessively.
Though you are really excited to see the newborn kittens soon...
"Leave them be. In fact, don't you think they're good role models for us...?" Sukuna recites in your ear teasingly, deeply chuckling.
"I don't know what you mean..."
I suppose you're about to find out exactly what he means tonight...
#sukuna x reader#sukuna#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff
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winter weight (nanami ver)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/17481f58991048dd4089cc389ae1d2fb/543b02be4aad94e1-3a/s540x810/c75d929396f6f71980cd364fe477d366310f8788.jpg)
Synopsis: nanami has gained some weight this winter, it seems you don't mind.
based on this fanfic I wrote for Toji which was based on this fanart! thank you @lil-sis for requesting more nanami :,)
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
You had known Nanami Kento for years before you were romantically involved. He had never made an inappropriate comment, always treated you with the utmost respect, and was all-around, the truest form of a gentleman.
For a time, you locked away your feelings for the kind man, sure he could never see you in that way, but little did you know, the man in question hid from your gaze, not because he did not want to see you, but in fear that you would see him. See him for what he was: a man, obsessed.
You had been with Ken for nine months now and he was everything you could want and more. He was communicative, thoughtful, and romantic. He looked at you in a way nobody had before. Likewise, for you, those nine months passed with comfortable ease.
This was your first winter together, and with the changing of the seasons you learned day by day that the man you knew was your life partner. The both of you were homebodies in a sense, however, with the chilly air and light snowfall this week, you were even more keen on a night in together.
You raced around the house, lighting candles, simmering mulling spices on the stove, and laying out blankets for the two of you. The house felt even cozier knowing that Ken was coming to join you.
He had spent the afternoon with his parents and was coming over after having dinner, he told you to eat without him and you had just finished cleaning your plate when you received a text,
"I am on my way now, sweetheart, is there anything you would like from the store?"
Ken was like this, domestic in the way that made you want to bounce around the room. You thought for a moment before deciding you would probably need more eggs. Earlier this week the two of you had planned a movie night, the next morning you were both hoping to bake cookies together while playing board games or taking turns reading to one another.
You informed him of the need for eggs and he told you he would be just a few more minutes. During that time you scrolled through the choices of movies, picking a few for the two of you to choose from.
Despite being together longer than the gestational period for a baby human, you still received butterflies in your stomach at the thought of his arrival. Knowing he was nearly home, you bounded to the kitchen and faced the door, the room smelled delicious, the only thing missing was his presence, and perhaps another layer of clothing.
Even so, you could hear his footsteps approach and knew that the two of you would share a blanket and body heat in no time.
When the man finally opened the door he was smiling shyly, a red dusting across his face from the cold. He wore a long winter coat, and in his arms were a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift.
You rushed to greet him, taking the day bag from his arm,
"Oh! Ken, they're beautiful!" You stood on tiptoe as he bent his knee and you kissed his cold cheek. "Goodness, you're freezing! Come in please!"
"Hello, my love." He smiled more broadly now, wrapping his free arm around you, "This if from my parents, but they told me not to let you open it until the holidays."
A warmth ran through you, the Nanami's were all too kind. Kento set the flowers on the counter and stepped toward the coat rack by the door to retire his shoes and jacket.
In the motion it took for him to pull the sleeves off his broad shoulders, you took him in. Leaning on the kitchen counter you allowed yourself to stare at him. His dress shirt was tight on his arms, and his suit pants clung to his thighs. You took a step toward him again.
"I almost don't want you to change, you look so handsome in your work clothes."
"Well, I've certainly put on some weight. These pants hardly fit now." he looks increasingly uncomfortable, not to be in your presence but to show that he was dressed in such a tailored fashion.
"Ken, my dear, you look incredible." You contain the desire to squeeze his thigh by walking to the bedroom and bringing out a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt.
"Although you are a delight to see this way, I'll let you get comfortable." You smile and pinch his bicep.
"Thank you, dear, I don't believe I've ever been so heavy. It's all the good restaurants you introduce me to, perhaps I should get back into the gym." He had grabbed the soft clothes you picked for him and walked into the bedroom to change.
"You're the one bringing me to all those good restaurants so you can't just blame me." You smile from outside the door.
"I'm just grateful you're with me" He laughs, pulling the shirt over his head.
"Ugh!" You exclaim, "Of course, Ken, don't say something so ridiculous." He laughs but you are still caught on what he said earlier. "And don't start going to the gym, you look great, very chewable."
He pops out from behind the door and looks down at you, amused. "I'm not sure how to feel about that descriptor, but if you still like me with extra weight, then I suppose I can remain comfortable."
"Still like you?" You gasp offended, "Ken, I grow more attracted to you every day, I don't care how tight your clothes are, in fact, it's a good look."
He gives you a mischievous face, "Go sit on the couch, pick a movie, stop trying to seduce me."
You laugh, incredulous, "I'm not trying anything, I'm only speaking the truth." You shrug, bounding to the couch and crawling beneath the blanket. Ken brings two mugs of cider before joining you.
That night you lay on his chest, watching a cheesy romance, the both of you laughing at the silly main character. You tilt your head up, to watch his face, your eyes catching the beginning of a few grey hairs dispersed in his blonde hair. You gently run your hand through his undercut.
In that moment, in his arms, as comfortable as you've ever been, you are sure, he is the man you will grow old with.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#kento nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami kento#kento nanami x reader#kento fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami fluff#kento nanami fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#nanami fanfic#kento nanami fanfiction#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#nanami kento fluff#nanamin#kento nanami x you#kento nanami x y/n#jjk comfort#jujutsu kaisen comfort
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i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.
a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k
She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician.
“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”
“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages.
She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back.
He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out.
Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home.
On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it.
“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust.
“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.
“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”
“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”
He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun.
Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes.
“You okay?
“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”
“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”
“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”
And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out.
“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.
“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”
In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life.
The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it.
(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)
She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the trick before she drops off her analysis.
“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”
Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again.
Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.
“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”
He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long.
“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”
Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can.
________________________________
Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up.
“How was the date?”
She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel.
“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”
“So why’d you go out with him again?”
“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”
She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her.
“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”
“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”
___________________________
This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.
His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers.
“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms.
“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”
“Why do you always say that?”
“That you’re a good friend?”
“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.”
“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”
She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down.
“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.”
The words taste like barbed wire.
Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right.
Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?
“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“
“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”
He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.
“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”
Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering.
“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”
“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”
“And you haven’t asked me since.”
“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to.
Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now.
“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”
“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”
It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life.
“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”
“All you had to do was ask again!”
If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader
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Enchant me - P.S
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e0427f6779bf4238de8b6803a141da68/2d432b68a71b5153-7b/s540x810/527e3ce2b0e1ae8ec25c6126dd2b23afad3e29c0.jpg)
P: Ravenclaw!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Suggestive Content, Angst, Sunghoon is kinda mean (not to you), Academic Rivalry, Tension, Fluff, Teasing, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Newt Scamander Mention!!
Synopsis: You’ve always found yourself in competition with Park Sunghoon, a brilliant Ravenclaw who seemed to have it all—intelligence, charm, and ambition. Whether it was academic duels or playful banter, he was always your rival. Yet, the only thing he truly wanted was you.
Wordcount: + 30k ( i know.. im sorry)
a/n: yall strap in for this one.. (heeseung is the last one that will be posted soon :) if yall wanna see more of the hogwarts au let me know!
masterlist
--
You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you started being an overachiever in your studies. It was a gradual thing, a slow shift that snuck up on you and became part of who you were. When you received your letter to Hogwarts, you were ecstatic—absolutely thrilled by the thought of magic, the possibility of flying, the enchantment of potions, and the spells. But then you saw the material and you knew right away that in order to succeed, you had to study.
But it didn’t stop there. As you poured yourself into your work, absorbed every bit of information, you started to realize something else—something that fueled you even more. Praise. Recognition. House points. The feeling of achievement after every successful spell or potion, the way other students came to you for help. It was intoxicating. The more you learned, the more respect you gained, and you could feel your status growing. It was simple math, really: hard work plus success equals recognition. And you thrived on it.
Soon enough, you became known as one of the top students at Hogwarts, the one everyone turned to when they needed help or advice. And you liked it. You liked the feeling of being ahead, of being the best at something. You liked the way professors praised you, the way your name carried weight when spoken in hallways. You’d earned this position. You deserved it.
But, of course, you weren’t the only one who excelled. There were others, too, students who worked just as hard as you did. And you were fine with it. You respected them; they respected you. It wasn’t about competition—it was about mutual recognition.
Then there was Park Sunghoon.
He was a quiet Ravenclaw, one who kept to himself for the most part, except when he was in class. That’s when everything changed. He had a way of standing out without even trying—his answers sharp, his insight keen, his mind quick. Every time you thought you had the answer, Sunghoon was already there, raising his hand or blurting it out in that effortless, nonchalant way. And every single time, your chest tightened, your stomach dropped. He was always just a step ahead of you, and you hated it.
But what really made your blood boil wasn’t just that he outperformed you—it was the way he did it. The way he would always, always look at you with that damn smirk. That teasing, almost mocking expression, as if he knew exactly what it did to you. As if he relished in it. Every time he answered a question before you, every time he earned praise or house points, he would glance over at you, eyes glinting, that smug smile never leaving his face. It wasn’t just a simple exchange of competition. It was personal. It was deliberate. And it drove you mad.
It didn’t help that Park Sunghoon was everything you hated and everything you secretly admired. He was smart—impossibly smart. His resourcefulness in class was unmatched, and every time he spoke, it felt like he had all the answers. And on top of all that, he was tall, handsome, with perfectly styled hair that never seemed to fall out of place, his Ravenclaw robes always crisp and neat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t catch yourself staring at him sometimes, trying to pretend you weren’t affected by how effortlessly he seemed to glide through life. He was always polished, always put together, and you hated how good he looked doing it.
It only made things worse when you started realizing that you were developing feelings for him. A crush, despite everything. Despite the way he ignored others, brushing them off like they were nothing, like they were dust clinging to his perfect robes. You couldn’t help it. He was attractive, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t just that—it was the way he held himself. The prefect badge on his chest always gleaming, always sparkling. The way he moved through the castle with an air of authority, a quiet power that seemed to command the attention of everyone in the room.
If Sunghoon deemed you as beneath him, he wouldn’t hesitate to let you know it—not directly, of course. No, that would be too obvious. Instead, he would treat you like one of the ghosts haunting Hogwarts, barely sparing you a glance, letting his indifference cut deeper than words ever could. You’d watch him glide past students who tried to catch his attention, their hopeful faces falling as he brushed them off without a second thought. His expression would remain blank, that neutral, almost cruel face he reserved for people he deemed unworthy of his time.
And the moments when he was forced to acknowledge someone? That’s when his sharp, silver tongue came out. You’d witnessed him being cold and dismissive, shutting down anyone who dared to push their luck. He had a way of saying just the right thing to make people feel small, a razor-edged wit that cut through even the bravest students, leaving them stammering, unsure of what they’d done wrong. It was subtle, and he was never outright rude—just dismissive enough to make it sting.
And yet, you couldn’t shake the crush. You hated it. You hated him. But the more he teased, the more you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him.
And you wouldn’t dare to say you liked Sunghoon—not in the way one might admit to having a crush, at least. No, liking him wasn’t even an option. If anything, you tolerated him on your best days, pushed yourself to ignore the smug expressions and the subtle, condescending way he would respond to you in class. And on the worst days? You found yourself actively ignoring him. Because nothing seemed to satisfy Sunghoon more than bringing others down to elevate himself.
When someone dared to voice an answer he deemed beneath his own standards, you’d see it: the slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle twist of his lips. He’d wait, just a beat, before stepping in to “correct” them, his tone laced with just enough contempt to make it clear who the “real” intellect in the room was. And somehow, he managed to do it all without outright insulting anyone. His comments were surgical, precise, his criticism delivered with a calm, cold detachment that only made it sting more. It made you question him, wonder why he seemed so determined to keep everyone beneath him.
But what frustrated you most was his selective charm. You’d watch him laugh and chat easily with other high-ranking students, his demeanor suddenly pleasant, even civil. He’d converse with them like they were equals, never the hint of a condescending smirk, no belittling glances. And in front of professors? Sunghoon transformed entirely. He was the picture of the ideal student, humble, deferential, offering polished responses that seemed designed to earn him a rare smile or a nod of approval. The teachers couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
You couldn’t wrap your head around it. His calculated, chameleon-like behavior left you wondering, time and time again, why he had ended up in Ravenclaw and not Slytherin. After all, he possessed every quality they prized: cunning, ambition, a nearly ruthless drive to succeed. It was like he wore a Ravenclaw uniform, but underneath, his nature seemed more like that of a Slytherin than anything else.
And perhaps, deep down, that was what unsettled you most about him—that he seemed to wear a mask depending on who he was with.
It frustrated you, intrigued you, and, despite yourself, drew you in.
So, you had learned to keep your distance from Sunghoon, to wear a mask of indifference around him. A poker face. Neutral. Unmoved. It became second nature, the way you could shut down your emotions whenever he entered the room, the way you refused to show any weakness in his presence. If you didn’t give him anything, you reasoned, he’d get bored of you eventually. He’d move on, as he did with everyone else. You figured, if you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, he’d leave you alone.
But now, reflecting on it, you realized that might have been the wrong choice. Because it didn’t matter how little you engaged with him. Sunghoon had a way of finding you. It was like he had a radar, some silent pull that always seemed to zero in on you during the day. And when he did, that was it. You had his full attention. Not a passing glance, not an idle comment. Sunghoon would fix his gaze on you, like a hawk locking onto its prey, his focus unyielding. It wasn’t an accidental glance; it was deliberate. Every moment, every word, every action seemed like it was a calculated move to engage with you, to get your attention—whether you wanted it or not.
If you were anyone else, if you were just a normal student, you might’ve gushed about it, maybe even bragged to your friends. After all, who wouldn’t want the attention of someone like Sunghoon? The handsome, accomplished, and charming prefect. But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t lesser. You knew exactly why he sought you out—and it wasn’t because of some secret admiration.
He saw you as competition. You were an obstacle in his path to greatness. The two of you were always near the top of the class, always neck-and-neck, and he wasn’t about to let someone else get ahead of him. You knew that much. He probably had plans of his own—dreams of becoming an Auror, or securing some high-ranking position in the Ministry of Magic. He wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way. And you were the one standing there, blocking his path. He had to prove he was better, that he was the best. It was almost… inevitable.
But deep down, you started to realize that there was something more to it than that. Sunghoon wasn’t just focused on outshining you academically. No. You had started to see the little things—the moments when his eyes lingered a little too long, the rare flicker of something deeper in his expression when he caught you in the hall or across a classroom.
And it made you question: was there more to how he saw you than just another obstacle? Were you something else entirely?
You first started to figure it out years ago, back when you were in fourth year and the two of you shared a few classes. It was the first time you’d really noticed Sunghoon, in Astronomy class, of all places. You had been excited for that class, you had always been fascinated by space, by the endless expanse of stars and the way the moon seemed to shift and change. As a child, you’d spent countless hours lying on the grass, gazing up at the sky, watching the constellations dance. You hadn’t thought twice about taking the class, certain you’d excel.
But you weren’t the only one eager to impress the professor. No, there was another student who seemed just as invested, answering questions with ease, his knowledge sharp and quick. You’d expected some competition, sure—but it was the way he answered, the confidence with which he spoke, that made you take notice.
It was Sunghoon.
You could see it in his eyes, the surprise that mirrored your own. The realization that you weren’t just any ordinary student—no, you were just as capable, just as quick-witted as he was. And that’s when it clicked: you weren’t just another student to him. You were a challenge.
After class, you’d been making your way out of the room, mind already spinning with the next lesson. But then you’d turned a corner and found yourself face-to-face with him, Sunghoon standing in the hallway like he was waiting for you. You hadn’t expected it, not at all.
“Impressive,” he’d said, raising an eyebrow. “You always this good with the material?”
You’d been taken aback, not quite sure how to respond, but something in his tone made you pause. At that point you weren’t used to students, especially not someone like him, complimenting your intellect outright. And yet, there was something sharp about his words, something that made you feel like this wasn’t just casual admiration.
“Of course,” you replied, instinctively meeting his challenge. “It’s not that difficult once you understand the basics.”
Sunghoon gave a smirk that only seemed to intensify the challenge. “So,” he began, crossing his arms. “If you’re as clever as you say, what’s the difference between the Confundus Charm and the Misdirection Hex?”
You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but entertained. “Easy. The Confundus Charm affects the mind, creating confusion and distorting a person’s perception, whereas the Misdirection Hex only creates a temporary distraction without altering any mental clarity.”
Sunghoon nodded, clearly expecting that you’d know the answer but not missing a beat. “Fair enough. How about this one—” he leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting, “if you were to brew Amortentia, what’s the critical ingredient that activates the potion’s scent signature?”
You didn’t even flinch. “Moonstone. It’s the key to personalizing the scent and creating that pull, that... sense of longing,” you replied, a trace of smugness in your voice. “Now my turn.”
You watched him closely, his expression unchanging, as you asked, “What’s the main difference between Episkey and Vulnera Sanentur?”
Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed. “Episkey is a basic healing charm that works for minor injuries—usually cuts or bruises. Vulnera Sanentur, on the other hand, is far more advanced, and it actually seals major wounds, specifically stopping blood flow and beginning tissue repair.”
You smiled, only a little disappointed that he got it right. “Well done, Park,” you replied, crossing your arms.
But he wasn’t done yet. With a slight tilt of his head, he said, “If you’re so good, tell me, what’s the incantation for a Hot-Air Charm, and when would it be used?”
“Calidus Aero,” you replied easily, rolling your eyes. “And it’s used to produce a continuous flow of warm air. Good for drying things—or keeping people warm.”
There was a slight twitch of his lips, as if he were amused that you’d added the last bit. “Impressive. But let’s see how you handle this one,” he continued, looking pleased. “What’s the effect of adding powdered Runespoor eggs to a Memory Potion?”
You paused for only a moment, narrowing your eyes at him. “It sharpens the recall and clarity of recent memories, but it also makes them harder to alter or distort after the fact,” you replied, watching him carefully. “A good trick for Aurors needing airtight evidence in trials.”
There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, though he tried to hide it. “Not bad,” he admitted, a trace of a smile showing. “Looks like you know your potions.” He shifted, almost as if he’d found the whole exchange too easy. Then he gave you a look—calculated and challenging. “One more. What’s the wand movement for the Incarcerous spell, and what’s the incantation variation that makes the conjured ropes fireproof?”
You tried not to show that this one caught you off guard. “The wand movement for Incarcerous is a firm downward flick, followed by a counterclockwise twirl,” you said carefully, a smirk forming as you gained confidence. “And the fireproof variation is Ignus Incarcerous.”
Sunghoon let out a low chuckle, a little begrudging, but impressed all the same.
You’d hoped that after that, he’d leave it at that, yet, as you turned to leave, you felt his gaze on your back. And before you could walk away, he stopped you. You had expected something snide, maybe a remark about how you’d bested him, or how you were too proud. Instead, he spoke, his voice smooth, almost teasing.
“You’re… smarter than I expected.” There was a pause, and then he’d added, “In fact, you’re pretty impressive.”
You had frozen, not sure what to make of it. But then came the twist: the way he said it, the slight upturn of his lips, the almost flirtatious edge to his words. It caught you off guard.
You had been prepared for rivalry, for sharp competition, but not for that. Not for him to suddenly flirt with you. The change in his tone, the way his words softened, made you feel uneasy, but also... intrigued.
You hadn’t known how to respond, but all you could do was walk away, your mind racing. Sunghoon—Park Sunghoon—had just complimented you with the kind of look that made your heart beat a little faster, even though you told yourself you hated him.
You had barely made it a few steps when you heard him call out, his voice smooth and teasing, like a final jab in a match you hadn’t realized was over.
“Not bad at all,” Sunghoon said, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at his lips, his tone dipping slightly, as if it were more of a challenge than a compliment. “Nice to know there’s someone around here who can keep up.”
For a moment, your pulse quickened. You wanted to respond, to throw a witty retort back at him. But you couldn’t find the words—because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much that one line had affected you.
Instead, you just stopped. You didn’t turn around, not fully, but you allowed yourself one quick glance over your shoulder.
Sunghoon was standing there, looking perfectly composed, his hands tucked casually behind him, his eyes following you with that unreadable look. The smirk remained, but there was something different about it now—less arrogant, more knowing. Almost like he was waiting for you to react, as if this small exchange was part of some game he wasn’t finished playing yet.
Without a word, you turned back around and continued walking, your steps brisk, your mind swirling.
--
You didn’t usually talk to Sunghoon outside of class—there was never much reason to. Your friend groups didn’t overlap, and both of you had your own routines, different paths to follow. But somehow, that didn’t stop him. No, every chance he got, Sunghoon would find a way to cross paths with you. He’d come up to you before classes, lean against a wall, and throw in some teasing remark about the next lesson or slyly compliment you on your latest academic achievement. It was almost like clockwork.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the star student,” he said, his tone playful but sharp. “Bet you’ve already memorized the entire textbook for today’s lesson, haven’t you?”
You rolled your eyes, not even breaking your stride. “You’re the one who’s obsessed with keeping up with every lesson, Sunghoon. I’m just trying to avoid getting bored.”
He chuckled, pushing off from the door and walking alongside you. “Right, because you’re totally not the type to get caught up in the thrill of perfect grades.” His eyes twinkled with a mixture of admiration and challenge. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure you don’t make it too easy for yourself.”
You smirked back, not missing a beat. “You’re right, I don’t like making things easy,” you said dryly. “But I’m sure you’re just trying to keep me on my toes, aren’t you, Sunghoon?”
He shrugged with a grin. “I’m just keeping things interesting. Besides, I have a reputation to uphold.”
Another time, just before Transfiguration, you found him leaning against a pillar, twirling his wand with a practiced ease, his gaze catching yours as you approached.
“So, tell me, have you figured out the secret to getting Transfiguration perfect every time, or do you just have some magic trick up your sleeve?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
You answered, not at all phased. “I think you’d be more impressed if you actually paid attention during class instead of just showing off your wand skills, Sunghoon.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, I pay attention. But I’m just more interested in seeing if you can stay on top of everything. Don’t want to make it too easy for you, right?”
“You wouldn’t know what to do without a challenge, would you?” you shot back, giving him a sideways glance.
“You’re right,” he said, his grin widening. “And it’s not every day I get to challenge someone like you.”
And alas every day, just before classes, there he was, making some comment that practically demanded a response. You’d either fire back a witty remark of your own or just give him a deadpan look, as if you couldn’t be bothered. And yet, he’d show up again the next day, and the cycle would repeat. It was a routine you both seemed to have unconsciously built into your days. Neither of you ever missed it, both being somewhat meticulous about perfect attendance.
At some point, you realized it was strange. You noticed that he never spoke to anyone else in quite the same way. No other girl at Hogwarts seemed to have the so-called privilege of Sunghoon’s attention, and it confused you beyond belief. It didn’t make sense—he was smart, popular, handsome. And yet, he’d somehow decided that teasing you was worth his time.
It wasn’t until one late afternoon in the library that the thought came to a head. You were tutoring one of your Hufflepuff friends, helping her brush up on Transfiguration, when she looked at you with a knowing smile and just dropped it on you.
“I think Sunghoon likes you,” she said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
You laughed it off immediately, shaking your head. “That’s not possible. Sunghoon only likes people if they can help him get more house points,” you replied. “Why would he like me?”
Your friend just shrugged, that same smile still on her face. “You’re the only person he talks to like that,” she pointed out. “It’s like he’s constantly finding an excuse to be around you.”
You tried to ignore it, brush it off as one of her theories. But later, when you were alone, you couldn’t shake her words from your mind. You thought back to every interaction you’d seen between Sunghoon and other students, particularly girls. The more you thought about it, the more you realized it was true: you’d never once seen him act the same way around another girl. In fact, you couldn’t remember him ever dating anyone. Despite the whispers in the corridors and the way some girls openly admired him, he never seemed interested. No, you’d seen him reject more of them than you could count.
But with you... things were different.
You didn’t know what to make of it. Sunghoon had always been that one puzzle you couldn’t solve. He was unpredictable, throwing in little remarks as if he’d calculated your every reaction.
If he did like you, it would mean something you hadn’t prepared for. It would mean you’d been wrong about him—or, at least, about why he kept coming back to you.
Maybe that was why you found yourself in the library a little later than usual, searching for one specific book. The library was quieter than it had been all day, with only a handful of students still scattered between the rows of shelves, their heads buried in their books. Madam Pince was busy sorting through a stack of newly returned books at the far end of the room, so you figured you’d have some peace and quiet to yourself.
You’d been meaning to find this particular book for a while. The only problem was that you hadn’t seen it in the library for months. The last time you’d seen it, it had caught your eye when one of your Gryffindor friends had been flipping through its pages in the common room. You hadn’t been able to get a good look at it, but now, as you found it tucked away in the far corner, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.
You pulled the book off the shelf carefully, balancing it in your hands as you climbed down the ladder. The title read “Figuring and Tackling Your Feelings.” It was something about sorting through emotions, a guide that, frankly, seemed more like it belonged in the realm of self-help than anything academic. You weren’t sure why it had piqued your interest so much, but you were eager to take a closer look, especially now with everything on your mind.
Before you could fully inspect the cover, a voice came from behind you, low and familiar.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” Sunghoon’s voice cut through the silence of the library like a knife.
You jumped, startled, spinning around instinctively to hide the book behind your back. Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to regain your composure. There he stood, leaning casually against a nearby shelf, eyes already trained on you with that signature smirk of his.
“What are you doing here, Sunghoon?” you asked, your tone betraying the sudden flurry of nerves. You couldn’t help it. The last thing you needed right now was for him to get a glimpse of what you were holding.
“Me? Oh, nothing,” he said with a shrug, his eyes flicking to the book behind your back. “But you, on the other hand… reading ahead, are we?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s none of your business,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?” His steps were slow and deliberate as he moved closer to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know, it’s not like you to hide books behind your back. What’s got you so secretive?”
Before you could stop him, his hand darted toward the book, attempting to grab it from behind your back. Reflexively, you twisted away, turning just enough so that he couldn’t get his hands on it. You managed to get a better grip on the book, but Sunghoon wasn’t backing off. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the little game.
“Oh no, you don’t,” you muttered, trying to hold the book out of his reach. “Stop trying to grab it.”
Sunghoon just grinned, his gaze never leaving the book. “Come on, just let me see it. You know, I always find it fascinating when people start acting so mysterious about things.”
You twirled around again, moving just a little faster than him this time, keeping the book hidden behind you. The book’s cover was almost too easy to read from his angle, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d noticed the title.
“Why are you so curious about what I’m reading?” you shot back, hoping the question would throw him off balance.
His grin widened. “Maybe I just like seeing how you react. You’ve always been so… poised. I wonder if there’s more to you than the perfect student.” His voice dropped a little, a note of challenge creeping in. “Come on, just give it to me. You’re not that afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”
You felt your cheeks flush slightly, the teasing getting to you. “It’s not about competition,” you muttered, taking another step back to keep the book away from his prying fingers. “Just… drop it, alright?”
His eyes flickered to the book once more, then back to you. “Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But you’re really not going to let me see what you’re reading? You’re too mysterious for your own good.”
You exhaled, trying to calm your racing heart as you finally straightened up, no longer trying to keep it hidden. “It’s just a book. Nothing important.”
He tilted his head, eyeing you with that all-too-knowing look. “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced.
And with that, he turned and strolled away, his footsteps echoing softly through the nearly empty library.
You let out a long breath, the book still in your hands, but your mind now racing in a way it hadn’t been before. Why had you reacted like that? What was it about Sunghoon’s teasing that got under your skin so easily?
You couldn’t shake the feeling that Sunghoon had seen right through you—like he always did. As the library door closed behind you, you felt a strange sense of relief mixed with lingering unease. You hadn’t expected that interaction to leave you so rattled. It was just Sunghoon, right? Yet, there was something about his persistence, the way he kept pushing you, that had thrown you off balance.
The book was still tucked under your arm as you made your way out of the library and toward your common room. You tried to focus on the cool, quiet hallways of Hogwarts, the flickering torches lighting your path. The winding corridors, usually so familiar, now seemed almost too vast, too empty.
The sound of your footsteps echoed as you passed through the hallway, heading toward the familiar portrait that would let you into your common room. You had to hurry; curfew was close, and Madam Pince had already given you a warning for lingering too long in the library.
As you reached the entrance to your common room, you glanced over your shoulder, just in time to catch a shadow move in the corner of your vision. But when you turned fully, the hallway was empty, just the faint echo of your own footsteps following you.
You shrugged it off. You must have imagined it.
With a quick word, the portrait swung open, and you stepped inside, relieved to be back in the warmth of your common room.
Outside, beyond the walls of the common room, Sunghoon stood hidden in the shadows, leaning against a pillar just out of sight, watching you go. His eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary before he turned and slowly disappeared into the shadows. He walked through the dimly lit hallways, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night. He hadn’t intended to follow you; it wasn’t some grand plan.
He’d tried to convince himself it was just curiosity—nothing more. After all, you were the only one who seemed to keep up with him in class. You challenged him, and that’s what he’d always thrived on.
And it was like he couldn’t not think about you. And that frustrated him.
He never expected you to be this… enigmatic. No one else had ever caught his attention like this—not like you did. It was a puzzle, one that didn’t make sense, and yet the more he tried to figure you out, the more complicated and captivating you became.
You had this effortless confidence, a sharp wit that matched his, but you weren’t like the other students he’d come across. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, not even him. There was something in your eyes when you’d deflect his teasing, a glimmer of something he couldn’t place. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting the way he expected, and that drove him mad.
Sunghoon pushed a hand through his hair, his thoughts tangled as he navigated the winding corridors of Hogwarts. He shouldn’t be thinking about you so much. There were other things to focus on—other students, other challenges, other ways to advance. Yet, every time he tried to shake it off, his mind would return to you.
How had you managed to enrapture him so effortlessly? He wasn’t the type of person to become so… fixated. Yet here he was, walking through the darkened halls, and all he could think about was you. You never played by the same rules as everyone else, and that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.
No. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up in this. You were a challenge, just like he’d always wanted. You were nothing more than that, right?
But even as he told himself this, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else—something more—that was pulling him toward you.
--
You sat at your desk in Potions class, the scratch of your quill against parchment the only sound filling the otherwise quiet classroom. Snape’s voice droned on, but your mind kept drifting. You had hoped for a peaceful class today—one where you could focus on the lesson without the usual distractions. But of course, it didn’t take long for that hope to be dashed.
The seat next to you, which had been occupied by a nervous Hufflepuff just moments ago, was now filled by none other than Park Sunghoon.
You didn’t look up immediately when he sat down. You had caught the tail end of his glare directed at the Hufflepuff, whose wide eyes had flicked from Sunghoon’s cold stare to you in a silent plea. In an instant, the Hufflepuff had scurried off, leaving the seat beside you vacant for Sunghoon to claim.
A small sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you focused on your notes, carefully copying the ingredients Snape was listing for the potion you were about to brew. You wouldn’t let him distract you, not this time. The class was important, and the competition was heating up, especially with exams just around the corner.
You could feel the subtle shift in the air with Sunghoon settled beside you. But today, he didn’t say anything. Not a word. He simply unpacked his books, setting them down with a quiet precision, and began his own notes. It was almost too quiet, too… calm. It was rare that he didn’t start a conversation, especially considering the usual banter you both shared.
The fact that he was acting so reserved, while sitting so close to you, made you all the more aware of the faint tension between you. It was like he was waiting for you to say something first. But you wouldn’t. Not this time.
You kept your focus on your parchment, the quill moving smoothly as you wrote. It was an exercise in patience, in ignoring the small things: the way his sleeve brushed yours as he leaned over to grab an ingredient, the soft rustling of his books as he turned pages. You didn’t let your mind wander. You wouldn’t.
Yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, you felt the pull of his presence, as if he were a magnet. You stole a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He was scribbling down notes too, but there was something different about the way he held his quill, the way his eyes flicked to the board and then to the ingredients list. He was concentrating, but you knew it wasn’t just the potion he was thinking about.
The realization hit you a little too late: He was watching you.
Your quill faltered for just a second before you steadied it again, keeping your eyes on the board. You couldn’t ignore the small, almost imperceptible glance he threw at you from time to time. It was the kind of look that made you question whether he was as unfazed as he appeared—or if, like you, he was just trying to hold his composure.
The class ended bit too soon, but not before you felt that pull again. Before you could gather your things, Sunghoon stood up, his chair scraping the floor with a soft sound. He didn’t look at you as he walked away, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze linger on your back as you packed up your belongings.
--
The class was buzzing with quiet energy as Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him as he made his way to the front. You could feel the usual hum of anticipation ripple through the classroom as he began with his first question, his gaze sharp and probing.
Without fail, Sunghoon was seated right beside you. He had strolled in at the last possible second and taken the empty seat before you could even think about moving. It was a position that had become an unspoken habit between the two of you—a silent agreement that this was where you would always sit, even if neither of you admitted it out loud.
“Who can tell me the primary function of wolfsbane in this potion?” Snape’s gaze swept across the class, but it settled almost immediately on you.
You raised your hand automatically, but just as you opened your mouth to answer, Sunghoon’s voice cut through the air. “The primary function of wolfsbane is to suppress the transformation of a werewolf. But specifically, in this potion, it’s used to temper the effects, making the potion safe for consumption by those with lycanthropic tendencies.”
Your jaw clenched, and you quickly chimed in, “That’s true, but wolfsbane’s reaction with belladonna is crucial to ensure the potion is actually effective. Otherwise, you risk a rapid breakdown of the ingredients, and the potion loses its potency within hours.”
A faint smirk played on Sunghoon’s lips as he turned slightly to face you, his eyes glinting with a mixture of challenge and amusement. “Of course,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear, “but that’s only if the brewer doesn’t know how to stabilize the reaction properly.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you know better than the author of ‘Potions for Practical Application’?” You raised an eyebrow, the hint of a challenge in your voice.
Snape’s voice sliced through your exchange. “If the two of you are quite finished,” he said dryly, “perhaps you’d like to enlighten the rest of the class.”
You both looked up, not missing the faint irritation in his expression. And yet, as he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, he seemed almost amused. If Snape enjoyed one thing in his classes, it was competent students—but if he enjoyed two things, it was watching competent students try to one-up each other.
With a quick glance at Sunghoon, you cleared your throat and addressed the rest of the class, your voice steady. “Wolfsbane, also known as aconite, stabilizes the transformation process. But the reason belladonna is needed in the mixture is because it counters the initial toxicity of the aconite.”
Sunghoon jumped in seamlessly, his tone smooth. “Exactly. Aconite alone could be harmful, but combined with the right ingredients, it actually makes the potion effective. Belladonna slows down the rate of the potion’s effect, balancing the intensity.”
You could see Snape’s eyes narrow just a fraction, clearly considering whether he’d allow this back-and-forth to continue. He hadn’t interrupted yet, though, and so you didn’t hold back.
“That only works, though,” you continued, “if the potion is brewed at precisely the right temperature. A variance of even one degree could cause the aconite to overpower the belladonna, which is why attention to detail is critical here.”
Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “True. But I’d argue that anyone who’s capable of brewing at an advanced level should be able to handle such minor details.” He cast a sideways glance at you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
You narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them. He was enjoying this far too much. “Perhaps. Though, as they say, perfectionists always notice the minor details others miss.”
“Implying I’m not a perfectionist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone was light, but you could sense the competitive edge in it.
You shrugged, giving him a look of feigned innocence. “Just that you might not be as exacting as some of us.”
Before he could retort, Snape stepped in, his voice a mixture of impatience and reluctant amusement. “Miss Y/L/N. Mr. Park. While I am deeply fascinated by your thorough analysis, the class may benefit from a more structured approach.” He glanced around at the other students, who were watching you and Sunghoon with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Your cheeks flushed as you turned back to your notes, feeling a rush of heat from Sunghoon’s lingering gaze. But Snape wasn’t done.
“In fact, why don’t you both demonstrate your understanding?” Snape gestured to the cauldron at the front of the room. “Brew the potion together. Let’s see if your theoretical knowledge holds up under practical application.”
You felt the tension shift as Sunghoon pushed himself up from his chair, casting a smirk in your direction. “Let’s see if you can keep up, then,” he murmured as he moved to the front.
Swallowing your nerves, you followed him, setting out the ingredients with practiced ease. As you worked, the rivalry simmered just beneath the surface. Sunghoon was methodical, careful with each step, yet he didn’t miss an opportunity to toss a teasing comment your way.
“Careful,” he said at one point, his voice low. “That’s a lot of aconite you’re adding there. Are you sure you’re not trying to mess up the potion to make a point?”
You shot him a look. “Maybe I just don’t trust you to brew this properly without a little oversight.”
His eyes glinted. “Funny, because I was about to say the same thing to you.”
The two of you continued in this vein, quietly exchanging barbs as you measured, stirred, and added ingredients with exacting precision.
When the potion was nearly complete, you both paused, watching as the liquid in the cauldron shifted from murky green to a smooth, midnight blue—the exact color it was supposed to be.
Sunghoon tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not bad,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You met his gaze, a smirk of your own forming. “Could say the same to you.”
The rest of the class continued in much the same way, the tension between you and Sunghoon thick as you both remained locked in your rivalry. As Professor Snape continued his lesson, you and Sunghoon each made sure to answer his questions before the other could, each answer delivered with just enough confidence to imply you had known it all along.
Every now and then, you’d catch Sunghoon looking your way, a small, knowing smile on his face, as if he could read every thought running through your mind.
Just as you were jotting down notes on the final instructions for the potion, a Ravenclaw beside you leaned over. “Hey, Y/N,” she whispered, “can I borrow your notes from last week? I’m a bit behind.”
Before you could even respond, you noticed a shift beside you. From the corner of your eye, you saw Sunghoon’s expression harden. His jaw clenched as he shot the Ravenclaw a sharp look, his gaze practically daring her to linger a moment longer.
She hesitated, glancing between you and Sunghoon before quickly saying, “You know what, never mind. I’ll, uh, figure it out.” With that, she scurried off, leaving you a bit bewildered.
You turned back to your notes, only to feel Sunghoon relax beside you, leaning back in his chair with a casual air as if nothing had happened. His expression softened, the subtle smirk you’d come to expect making its return. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to address it as you continued your notes. But before long, another student tried to approach.
This time, it was a Gryffindor who slipped you a folded note with a question on today’s potion. But before you could even open it, you noticed that same glint in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was quietly measuring the other student’s worth. His glare was steely, his gaze intense enough that, once again, your classmate seemed to change their mind about talking to you at all. The Gryffindor muttered a quiet apology and quickly returned to their seat.
You couldn’t help but cast a sidelong glance at Sunghoon, raising an eyebrow at his now placid expression. He noticed and merely gave a slight shrug, as if to say he hadn’t done a thing. It was infuriatingly typical of him, acting as if he hadn’t just sent two students retreating.
“What’s your problem?” you whispered, leaning in slightly.
Sunghoon’s smirk deepened. “No problem. Just keeping distractions to a minimum.”
You scoffed, your irritation clear, but deep down, a part of you wondered why he even cared.
But then Snape’s voice cut through the room, calling for silence, and you both snapped back to attention, the rivalry and tension settling between you once more.
As you walked out of the dungeon, feeling the cool stone hallway stretch out in front of you, you were met by two Gryffindor students waiting just outside. They exchanged a glance, visibly relieved as you approached, and one of them quickly stepped forward.
“Hey, Y/N,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We were wondering if you could maybe tutor us in Potions? We’re both, uh… struggling with it, to say the least.”
His friend nodded, looking equally sheepish. “Yeah, we could really use the help.”
Before you could answer, though, you felt a presence at your side. Sunghoon had followed you out, his usual calm but intense demeanor practically radiating as he watched the two Gryffindors. His gaze hardened, and he didn’t waste a second before stepping between you and them.
“You two really have nothing better to do than pester her?” he asked, his tone dismissive, his glare enough to make them visibly uncomfortable.
The Gryffindors exchanged glances, shuffling back slightly, but they didn’t say anything. They seemed intimidated, but they didn’t seem like they were about to give up so easily. You sighed, shooting Sunghoon an exasperated look.
“Sunghoon, relax,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You turned back to the two Gryffindors, who looked both embarrassed and desperate, and crossed your arms.
“Fine,” you told them, sighing. “Meet me in the library tomorrow. I’ll give you some pointers then.”
The two of them beamed, nodding quickly, and mumbled their thanks before heading off, leaving you alone with Sunghoon, who was still watching them as if they’d offended him personally.
As they turned the corner, Sunghoon glanced at you, a frown tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to agree, you know,” he said, his tone more casual now, though there was still a trace of irritation. “They’re just looking for an easy answer.”
You gave him a look, shaking your head slightly. “Not everything is about competition, Sunghoon. Maybe they actually need help.”
He scoffed, a smirk curling at his lips. “Whatever you say. Are you coming, or are you too busy playing tutor?”
There was a brief moment of hesitation on your part. You hadn’t planned on sticking around with him after class, especially after his little standoff with your would-be students. But as his gaze settled on you, something about his expression—part expectant, part unreadable—made it hard to refuse.
With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you gave in. “Fine, lead the way.”
He smirked, clearly satisfied, and turned to walk down the hall. You fell into step beside him, the two of you moving together in silence.
Sunghoon led you through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, weaving up narrow staircases and into passages you were sure most students didn’t even know about. You were tempted to ask him what he was up to, but a strange, quiet curiosity kept you following him, even when you caught yourself glancing back, half-considering turning around. But you couldn’t deny your curiosity—and a reluctant trust in him, strange as it felt.
Finally, you reached a narrow staircase that led up to one of the less-frequented towers. “Here we are,” he said.
You stared at a latch, then at him. “What is this place?”
He didn’t answer immediately, instead climbing ahead of you, reaching up to open the concealed latch in the ceiling. With a glance down at you, he climbed up, disappearing through the opening.
You glanced around the empty hallway, biting your lip.
When he poked his head back down and raised an eyebrow. “Are you coming?” you sighed and climbed up after him, finding yourself in a tiny, dusty attic space. The room was cramped, with wooden beams crossing over the low ceiling and tiny, dusty windows letting in a dim glow. There wasn’t a sound in the air; no one ever came up here.
“What’s this about, Sunghoon?” you asked, crossing your arms, unable to keep a note of suspicion out of your voice. But he only smirked, taking your wrist and gently pulling you over to the corner of the room where a small wooden chest lay against the wall.
He lifted the lid, revealing a small creature nestled inside. You took a step closer, gasping softly as you recognized the little, dark-furred niffler, its leg twisted at an awkward angle, clearly hurt. You shot Sunghoon a surprised look, and he rubbed the back of his neck, almost sheepish.
“I, uh… I remembered you seemed to know a lot about magical creatures,” he said, his voice quieter, less sure than usual. “Saw it struggling outside the castle, and I thought… well, I figured you might know what to do with it.”
For a moment, you simply stared, taken aback by his unexpected gentleness. You knelt down beside the chest, assessing the niffler’s condition. “It looks like it twisted its leg pretty badly,” you murmured, brushing your fingers carefully over the creature’s fur as it whimpered, its small, dark eyes wide with trust and pain.
The niffler shivered, glancing up at you before letting out a soft chitter, its tiny paw reaching up to clutch your finger as you whispered calming words.
“It’s okay, little one,” you murmured, gently lifting the niffler into your arms. Sunghoon stepped back a little, allowing you space to work, and you couldn’t help but notice how quietly he was watching you, not saying a word.
You checked its leg, gently feeling around the injury. It wasn’t too severe, but it would need some attention. “The little guy will be okay. You just have to be careful with creatures like these—they can get skittish when they’re hurt.”
Sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the niffler as you worked. You pulled out your wand, muttering the appropriate healing charms as you carefully mended its leg. The niffler let out a small chirp, its fur fluffing out in relief as it finally settled in your arms.
“You know,” Sunghoon said, breaking the silence, “I didn’t expect you to be so good with magical creatures.” You glanced up, meeting his gaze, which was unexpectedly warm, his usual guarded expression softened.
“Maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice.
Sunghoon smiled faintly, watching as you wrapped the niffler’s leg with careful precision, almost as if seeing you in a new light. “Guess I’ll just have to keep finding excuses to learn, then,” he said.
With a final wave of your wand, the niffler’s leg was mended. Almost immediately, the little creature perked up, chirping happily as if testing out its newfound mobility. A small smile tugged at your lips as the niffler wobbled in your lap, nudging your hand before, quick as a flash, its tiny paw darted toward the shiny badge pinned on your robes.
“Hey!” you laughed, reaching for the niffler as it tugged at your prefect badge, determined to add it to whatever imaginary hoard it was building in its mind.
Sunghoon chuckled from where he stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze following the little creature’s antics. “Looks like it has a good eye for treasure,” he said, his tone playful. The niffler, clearly encouraged by his approval, squeaked and tugged harder, and you could only laugh as you tried to wrestle it gently away from your badge.
“Alright, alright, little troublemaker,” you said, scratching behind its ear, “I guess you’re all healed up.” The niffler chirped, clearly satisfied with itself, and settled back in your lap, peering up at you with big, curious eyes.
Sunghoon tilted his head, that faint smile still lingering. “You know, you have to name him now,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the niffler. “Name him? Isn’t he a bit too… mischievous to settle for a name?” But as you looked into its wide, shining eyes, you felt a tug of fondness you couldn’t quite ignore.
Sunghoon shrugged, his tone a bit lighter than usual. “Well, you can’t just heal him and leave him unnamed. Plus, he’ll probably come back to find you if you give him a name.”
You bit back a smile, glancing at the niffler again. “Alright, fine.” After a moment’s thought, you looked back up at Sunghoon, the beginnings of an idea forming. “What about Spark? Since he’s so keen on shiny things.”
Sunghoon’s eyes crinkled slightly as he considered it. “Spark,” he echoed thoughtfully, and then nodded. “I like it. Seems fitting, for a niffler that’s already made it his mission to steal from a Hogwarts prefect.”
The niffler—now dubbed Spark—chirped in approval, as if satisfied with his new name. He scrambled back onto your lap, one paw still reaching toward your badge, his nose twitching.
As you watched Spark dart playfully around the room, you looked at Sunghoon and nodded toward the door. “We should probably take him to Hagrid. He’ll know how to take care of a niffler better than we can.”
Sunghoon nodded, and with a final scratch behind Spark’s ear, you tucked the little creature into the crook of your arm. As you and Sunghoon quietly made your way down the tower’s staircase and through the darkened hallways, Spark scampered excitedly between the two of you, chirping and squeaking in delight. Every now and then, he’d jump from your shoulder to Sunghoon’s, nuzzling close and tugging at a stray lock of his hair.
When you finally stepped out onto the moonlit grounds, Spark scrambled up Sunghoon’s arm and settled atop his head, tugging at the strands as if trying to style his hair. Sunghoon rolled his eyes but didn’t make any real effort to dislodge him.
As you arrived at Hagrid’s hut, Sunghoon reached up to knock on the door, but Spark clung stubbornly to his head, chirping with the excitement of a mischievous child. Hagrid’s warm, booming voice called from inside, and a moment later, he opened the door, his eyes lighting up when he saw the small creature atop Sunghoon’s head.
“What in Merlin’s beard… is that a niffler on yer head, Sunghoon?” Hagrid’s laughter was deep and genuine as he looked between the two of you.
You couldn’t help but laugh as well, reaching up to grab Spark gently from Sunghoon’s head. As you tugged the niffler free, you couldn’t help but notice the state of Sunghoon’s hair—it was thoroughly mussed, thanks to Spark’s playful grasping. “We found him hurt,” you explained to Hagrid as you cradled Spark, who snuggled into your arms with a satisfied chirp. “We patched him up a bit, but we figured he’d be in better hands with you. Could you take care of him?”
Hagrid’s face softened as he looked at Spark, his expression a mixture of fondness and excitement. “Course, I’ll look after the little rascal. Nifflers can be tricky, but they got good hearts.” Beside him, Fang barked happily, his tail thumping against the ground as he trotted up to you.
Grinning, you crouched down, running your hands through Fang’s thick fur as he nuzzled your hand. “Hey, Fang! Missed you too, big guy,” you murmured, scratching him behind the ears. Fang let out a pleased rumble, leaning into your touch.
As Hagrid took Spark from your hands, the niffler let out a mournful little chirp, his dark eyes fixed on you and Sunghoon as if he already missed you. Hagrid chuckled, petting Spark’s head. “Looks like he’s taken quite the likin’ to you two! I reckon he’ll be a handful. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s well cared for.” With a wave, Hagrid gently closed the door, and you and Sunghoon turned back toward the castle.
Walking side by side through the quiet grounds, Sunghoon was still trying to tame his hair, grumbling softly as he ran his hands through it. Smiling, you reached out, gently pushing his hands away. “Let me,” you said softly, reaching up to smooth down his tousled locks.
Sunghoon was silent, watching you as you worked, and when you finally stepped back, satisfied, he looked at you with a softened expression. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice unusually quiet, his gaze lingering on you just a little longer than usual.
You lowered your hand, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, the gentle night air cool against your cheeks. “You’re welcome,” you replied, glancing away as a faint warmth crept up your neck.
For a few steps, the two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound. The castle loomed ahead, its towers silhouetted against the dark, star-strewn sky.
“You know,” Sunghoon finally spoke, his voice low but warm, “you didn’t have to help with Spark back there. Could’ve just let me figure it out on my own.”
You scoffed lightly, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, please. You’d have probably spent half the night just trying to get him off your head,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, I like helping out with creatures. It’s… peaceful.”
Sunghoon gave a soft chuckle, nodding. “Can’t argue with that. You’re a natural,” he added, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”
“Like what?” You turned your head to look at him, slightly caught off guard by his tone.
“Soft. I mean, not that you’re… not usually. Just… different,” he mumbled, running a hand over his head again, his gaze darting to the side as if searching for words. “Maybe it’s nice to see you care about something.”
A quiet chuckle escaped your lips as you shoved your hands into your pockets, your steps slowing. “I care about things. Just not usually things that… require all that much attention.”
Sunghoon stopped, turning toward you, his gaze intense yet gentle. “Well, it seems you’ve got another talent to add to the list,” he said quietly. “Even if I don’t see this… soft side very often.”
You could feel your face warm under his stare, an unspoken understanding passing between you. “Well, maybe I’ll show it a bit more… if you promise to keep your teasing to a minimum,” you countered, smiling slightly.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Only some teasing,” he replied, but there was a warmth behind his usual smirk, a hint of something more.
As you reached the entrance to the castle, you both paused, lingering in the cool shadows of the towering walls. Neither of you seemed ready to break the quiet moment. Eventually, you took a breath, giving him a final look. “Goodnight, Sunghoon.”
He nodded, his eyes still on you. “Goodnight,” he replied softly.
The next day, the routine rivalry between you and Sunghoon was as intense as ever, starting with the very first class. Snape had just handed back a round of potion assignments, and as you flipped through your parchment, you smirked at the sight of your high score. But your satisfaction was short-lived; Sunghoon leaned back in his seat beside you, carelessly waving his own assignment in the air, flashing a score just a fraction higher than yours.
You shot him a look that was equal parts irritation and challenge. “I guess perfection just comes naturally to some,” he murmured, his smirk widening as he glanced at your page. You couldn’t stop your glare from hardening as you rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath.
Throughout the day, this pattern continued in every class. Whenever you scored higher, he’d fall silent, his eyes narrowed in a glare as he examined his own work with a slight pout. If he managed to get the higher score, you’d feel your face flush in annoyance, lips pressed into a thin line as you begrudgingly accepted the tiny triumph. Each question the teachers posed became a mini-battle between the two of you. If you answered first, Sunghoon would scoff and find some way to counter your response with an added detail or correction; if he answered first, you’d find a way to elaborate on it with an extra flourish.
Eventually, in Charms, your constant back-and-forth about the finer points of nonverbal spells escalated to a full-blown debate. You could feel the class’s eyes on you both as you threw arguments back and forth, neither willing to back down until the professor finally cut in, moving to the next topic with an exasperated sigh.
When classes finally ended, you found yourself surrounded by a few Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students, all hoping you’d tutor them in some area or another. But before any of them could get too close, Sunghoon would somehow find his way into the middle, stepping forward with a cool glare that would make them hesitate. Without even noticing his interference, you were too busy rambling to him about magical creatures, hardly noticing as students reluctantly slipped away.
“…And the phoenix? Did you know they have regeneration abilities not just for themselves but that their tears can heal practically anything? It’s almost like a superpower,” you said animatedly, your eyes lighting up as you explained.
Sunghoon’s small, genuine smile went unnoticed by you, his eyes studying your expressions as you spoke. “You know,” he said after a moment, “you really get lost when you’re talking about them.”
You shrugged, unfazed. “Why wouldn’t I? There’s so much to learn, so much to explore. Don’t you ever feel like that about anything?”
His smile grew softer, almost thoughtful. “Yeah… I think I do,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. But you were too caught up in your own excitement to notice the way he looked at you, as if he had found something worth exploring right here.
You barely noticed the way Sunghoon’s eyes softened as you went on about the different habitats of magical creatures, caught up in sharing the things you loved. He seemed entirely focused on you, even as the hallway grew emptier, his usual sharp edge melting into a quieter attentiveness that he rarely showed.
As you two walked, he seemed to subtly steer you, ensuring other students didn’t approach with requests or questions. The few who tried to interrupt received one of Sunghoon’s cool, silent glares, and it was enough to make them think twice. But his attention never wavered from you, and you barely noticed anyone else around.
“…So I’m hoping to go on expeditions one day,” you said with a small smile, glancing up at him as you walked. “I want to see these creatures in the wild and understand their behaviors.”
Sunghoon looked at you, his gaze warm yet intent. “You really mean that,” he murmured.
“Of course I do,” you replied, almost laughing. “I thought everyone knew that by now.”
His faint smile returned. “Maybe not everyone. But… I do.”
You blinked at the sudden seriousness in his tone, and for a moment, you were struck by the way he was looking at you—as if there was something he’d been meaning to say, something he was wrestling with. But as quickly as the moment surfaced, it was gone; he looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “Guess I’ll have to find something just as impressive to match that.”
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to work a lot harder to keep up.”
A smirk flashed across his face. “Challenge accepted,” he said quietly.
--
As you sat with the two Gryffindor students in the quiet corner of the library, the sunlight filtering through the high windows, you felt a sense of satisfaction in guiding them through the complexities of potions. They were both scrambling to keep up, flipping pages in their textbooks and frantically jotting down notes as you explained each component's properties and how they interacted.
After a moment, you paused to ask a question, gesturing to the list of ingredients for the Draught of Peace. “Which ingredient in this potion helps to reduce anxiety but can cause drowsiness in high doses?”
One of the boys squinted at his notes before raising his hand tentatively. “Um… powdered moonstone?”
You nodded, a small smile crossing your lips. “Exactly. Well done.”
He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself, then gave his friend a smug slap on the shoulder. “See? Told you I was getting the hang of this,” he boasted, earning an eye-roll from his friend.
“Don’t get too cocky,” you warned, a teasing edge to your voice. “One right answer doesn’t make you a Potions Master.”
He chuckled sheepishly, but it was clear he was still basking in your praise.
As the lesson went on, you glanced up for a moment, and your eyes caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against the edge of a nearby shelf: Sunghoon. He was watching the entire scene with his usual unreadable expression, arms crossed and a subtle smirk on his face, as if he found the whole situation amusing.
Rolling your eyes, you turned your focus back to the Gryffindors, deciding to ignore him. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the awareness of his gaze. The two Gryffindors seemed completely oblivious to Sunghoon’s presence, but every now and then, you caught him subtly stepping closer, listening in.
Finally, you finished your explanations, assigning them a few practice problems to work on in their own time. They thanked you, relief written on their faces as they gathered their things to leave.
As they left, Sunghoon sauntered over, raising an eyebrow at you. “You seem awfully generous with praise,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Oh, don’t start,” you replied, rolling your eyes again as you closed your textbook. “I’m just trying to help them pass Potions. They don’t have to be my rivals.”
“Lucky for them,” he said, chuckling softly. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, “But I’d like to think I’m the only one who gets to compete with you.”
You rolled your eyes and pulled out a worn notebook and a slightly tattered copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander from your bag, flipping to a page you had been absorbed in earlier. Your notes were meticulous and precise, with a small sketch of a selkie in the margin, its sleek form and dark eyes captured with surprising detail.
Sunghoon noticed immediately, his gaze drifting to the open book and your notes. He shifted his chair a little closer, leaning in to get a better look. "What’s all this?" he asked, clearly intrigued.
“Oh, just some of my own notes,” you replied casually, though you couldn’t deny the flicker of excitement at the chance to explain. “I’m copying parts of the book, adding some of my observations. See—” You pointed to a note on selkies. “These markings here help them blend in with the seaweed, which makes them nearly invisible in shallow waters. Clever, right?”
Sunghoon nodded, and you could see the interest in his expression as he continued to study the page. Emboldened, you moved on, “And this—” you pointed to another entry, flipping a few pages to a section on kelpies. “If you ever encounter a kelpie, you should look out for water plants on its back; they often disguise themselves as beautiful horses near the shore to lure people into the water.”
“Or here, in this section on Acromantulas,” you continued, your excitement getting the better of you. “If you ever come across an Acromantula lair, the air will feel damp and oddly warm, almost like a warning. They leave webs that catch the light differently than normal spider webs—they’re shinier, with a silver tint.”
Sunghoon’s smirk softened, replaced by something you couldn’t quite place. “You really know your stuff,” he said softly, the admiration clear in his voice.
You glanced away, suddenly a little self-conscious under his gaze. “I just… really like learning about magical creatures,” you admitted with a shrug. “I think they’re fascinating.”
Sunghoon let out a low chuckle. “I think you’re fascinating,” he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear.
You paused, heart skipping a beat as you processed his words. But before you could respond, he cleared his throat, his expression unreadable once more as he reached for your book. “So… what else should I know about magical creatures, in case we run into one?”
You grinned and continued explaining each creature with passion and detail, and he listened, seemingly content just to sit there, absorbed in every word you said.
You lost track of time as you continued sharing each creature’s traits, fully immersed in the world of magical beasts and their quirks. You explained to Sunghoon how to spot a bowtruckle in the trees, the difference between a griffin’s call and a hippogriff’s, and why nifflers are drawn to sparkly objects. With every fact you shared, his eyes never left your face.
After a while, you realized just how close he’d inched toward you. There was hardly any space between you now, and you were all too aware of his gaze tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your mouth as you spoke. It was almost unnerving, and for the first time, you found yourself stumbling over your words.
When you paused to catch your breath, Sunghoon broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about magical creatures like that before.”
His words caught you off guard, and you felt warmth creeping into your cheeks. “There’s so much out there we don’t understand. I think that’s the best part—the mystery of it all.” You murmured, glancing down at your notebook.
Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always thought you’re different from everyone else.” He looked down, almost shyly, as if he hadn’t meant to let that slip.
You blinked, surprised. "Different?"
“Yeah,” he replied, finally meeting your gaze again. “You’re… genuine. Like, you actually care about the things that matter. You don’t just do things because it’s expected, or because someone told you to. You’re… well, it’s hard to explain.” He shrugged, visibly frustrated, and let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle.
You blinked, trying to make sense of what Sunghoon had just said, of the quiet vulnerability in his words. “I… didn’t realize you thought about things like that,” you replied, your voice softer than you’d meant it to be.
But Sunghoon’s momentary openness seemed to vanish as soon as the words left your mouth. His eyes widened slightly, and he immediately turned away, his expression twisting into a frown. "I don’t know why I even—”
Before he could finish, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. You barely had time to react as he took a few steps back, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “beautiful eyes” under his breath, though you couldn’t be sure. Then, without looking back, he turned on his heel and strode out of the library, leaving you staring after him, stunned.
You sat there, watching the tall silhouette of his figure disappear through the doorway, a thousand questions spinning through your mind.
Madam Pince’s voice snapped you out of your daze. She had quietly approached, tidying up the stray books the Gryffindor students had left behind. “It doesn’t take much to see he likes you,” she said, her tone somewhere between amused and exasperated.
Your head whipped around to face her, eyes wide. “Wait—what?”
She glanced at you over the rim of her spectacles, raising an eyebrow as she gathered a stack of books. “Oh, come on. That boy didn’t take his eyes off you for a second. He barely even noticed anyone else in the room.” She shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her. “If he could, I swear he’d have hearts in his eyes. Quite the smitten one, that Sunghoon.”
You felt your face heat up. “I—no, that can’t be.”
Madam Pince gave a noncommittal hum, but her eyes sparkled with something like knowing. “I’ve seen plenty of students in here studying. There’s something different about him.”
ou couldn’t shake the image of Sunghoon’s gaze lingering on you, softer than you’d ever seen it, and the way he’d fumbled over his own words like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Maybe it’s just the way he looks at you,” Madam Pince added as she placed the last book on the shelf. “You’d think he’s looking at his entire world.”
You felt your breath catch, her words lingering long after you left the library.
The next day, you found yourself standing in the hallway before Charms class, nervously glancing at Wooyoung. You’d practically dragged him here to talk about Sunghoon, though you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to ask or how to approach him.
“Come on, Wooyoung, you have to help me figure this out,” you said, your voice a little more frantic than you intended. “Do you think… do you think he likes me?”
Wooyoung, leaning casually against the wall, smiled so wide that his grin nearly split his face. There was a gleam in his eyes—one that you knew all too well. The one he always wore when he had some mischievous plan brewing.
“Like you?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t he? You two are practically a walking cliché. The constant competition, the way you both try to one-up each other… It’s as obvious as your latest Transfiguration assignment.”
You frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. “I—what do you mean by that?”
Wooyoung pushed off the wall, standing up straighter. His smile grew wider, and you immediately recognized that look. The one that meant he’d just come up with something ridiculous, probably to your detriment. “Why don’t you make him show it? Get him to prove he likes you.”
You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. “What? How am I supposed to do that?”
He sighed dramatically, as though you’d just asked him a question that was too easy to answer. “It’s simple. Make him jealous using me,” Wooyoung replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Your eyes widened. “Wait, what? You want me to pretend to like you to make Sunghoon jealous?”
“Exactly!” Wooyoung grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “And don’t worry. I’ll even be the test bunny —free of charge. I’ll stick close to you, spend all the time I can with you, and make it look like I’m all about you. Trust me, Sunghoon will get the message real quick.”
You hesitated, worried. “I don’t know, Wooyoung. This seems like a bad idea.”
He groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “How can someone so smart be so clueless? It’s not like you have to actually date me or anything. Besides, you’re not even doing anything bad, just hanging out with your best friend Wooyoung. You’ll see what happens. Just wait until Sunghoon realizes what’s going on. If he likes you, he’ll show it.”
You bit your lip, not entirely convinced. The idea made you uneasy, but Wooyoung was already grabbing your arm, pulling you towards the classroom. “Come on. You can overthink it later. Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, you allowed yourself to be pulled into class, the moment you found your seat, you looked around, half-expecting to see Sunghoon. When he walked into class, you saw him immediately—tall and confident, his usual smirk in place. But as soon as his eyes landed on you, sitting next to Wooyoung, his entire demeanor shifted. His eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed.
You felt your stomach flip when Sunghoon stalked over, crossing his arms.
“You’re in my seat,” Sunghoon said, his voice cold as his eyes locked onto Wooyoung.
Wooyoung, not missing a beat, tilted his head back and looked at Sunghoon with a smug expression. “I don’t see your name here,” he teased, his voice playful, almost sing-song. He then dramatically pulled you closer to him, as though to stake his claim. “Besides, I’m sitting here now.”
You shot Wooyoung a look, but he was already enjoying this far too much. You glanced back at Sunghoon, who was glaring at Wooyoung with a look that could have burned a hole through him, his jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line. But when Sunghoon looked at you, his eyes softened just a little—though the frown still remained. He sighed in frustration before walking off, clearly not wanting to make a scene.
His eyes then locked onto the desk directly in front of you, where a Ravenclaw student had been sitting just moments ago, quietly taking notes. Without so much as a glance toward you or Wooyoung, Sunghoon walked up to the desk with a purposeful stride.
The Ravenclaw, a young girl with glasses perched on the edge of her nose, looked up in mild surprise as Sunghoon approached her. She was about to ask if something was wrong when he stood before her, towering slightly as he looked down at her desk with an unwavering gaze.
“Move,” he said simply, his voice low and calm, but there was an unspoken authority in it. It wasn’t a question, and there was no room for negotiation in his tone.
The Ravenclaw blinked, unsure of what was happening. “Excuse me?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.
Sunghoon’s expression remained neutral. “I’m sitting here,” he repeated, and he placed his bag down on the desk, almost as though he were claiming it.
The girl hesitated, glancing at the seat next to yours where Wooyoung sat, clearly not understanding the situation. She looked at the empty seats around the room, trying to figure out what to do.
“You can find another seat,” Sunghoon added coolly, his gaze unflinching. “It’s not a big deal.”
The Ravenclaw swallowed hard, her face flushing with confusion and embarrassment. She had no idea what was happening. Was this some sort of joke? Was she supposed to just give up her seat because Sunghoon wanted it? She opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could speak, she caught the look in Sunghoon’s eyes—cold, almost daring her to defy him.
“Okay,” she muttered, gathering her things and standing up, clearly unnerved by the tension in the air. Reluctantly, she grabbed her bag, and with a small, defeated sigh, she walked toward a different desk, clearly trying to avoid further confrontation.
You watched the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and discomfort, and you could see Wooyoung beside you, clearly amused by the whole thing. Sunghoon didn’t even spare a glance at the girl as she moved to another desk. He simply adjusted his books, and slid into the chair with a casual ease.
Wooyoung chuckled under his breath as class started, nudging you with an exaggerated wink. “Worked like a charm,” he whispered, grinning.
As Professor Flitwick began the lecture, Wooyoung scribbled something on a scrap of parchment and nudged it toward you, his grin widening when you glanced down.
“I’d say Sunghoon looks about two seconds away from hexing me,” he’d scrawled, complete with a little doodle of a scowling Sunghoon.
You smirked, scribbling back, “More like two seconds from snapping his quill in half.”
Wooyoung had to stifle his laugh, glancing up to make sure Flitwick wasn’t watching. Meanwhile, Sunghoon sat in front of you, stiff and silent, answering Professor Flitwick’s questions with uncharacteristic quietness. Normally, this was the part of the lesson where you’d challenge him, but you were too busy passing notes and snickering quietly with Wooyoung.
Meanwhile, Sunghoon, seemed quieter than usual. It was obvious to you that he wasn’t paying much attention to the lesson now—his usually sharp focus shifted entirely to the students around him. You caught the way he glanced up when another student raised their hand, trying to challenge him. They asked a particularly tricky question about the correct incantation for a charm, but when Sunghoon answered smoothly, there was no cocky attitude, no smug smirk. He answered matter-of-factly, almost quietly, and then fell back into his seat, looking down at his parchment with furrowed brows.
Other students tried to challenge him, pushing for more details, but Sunghoon didn’t rise to the occasion like he usually did with you. He remained reserved, answering them simply and without the usual bite in his voice.
And you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all connected to the game you and Wooyoung had started—testing Sunghoon's reactions, seeing how far you could push him. You watched him for a few more moments, noting how his posture stiffened slightly whenever someone questioned him. It was like he was waiting for something—waiting for you to throw a comment or a challenge his way. But you stayed quiet, not offering him the usual banter or playful disagreement.
Wooyoung passed you another note, his handwriting messier this time from his suppressed laughter. “Guess he only cares if it’s you arguing with him.”
As soon as Professor Flitwick dismissed the class, you barely had a second to pack up your things before Wooyoung seized your arm, yanking you up from your seat and ushering you toward the door with hurried enthusiasm.
“Come on, come on!” he whispered, grinning as he practically dragged you through the aisle, weaving between students as they gathered their things.
You stumbled slightly, barely managing to throw your bag over your shoulder as Wooyoung tugged you along, his grip firm as he steered you toward the corridor. Behind you, you caught a quick glimpse of Sunghoon, his expression darkening as he watched Wooyoung pull you away.
“Wooyoung, slow down!” you protested, trying to keep from tripping as he continued his brisk pace down the hallway. You glanced back, half-expecting Sunghoon to be right behind you, but the corridor was empty, and you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t followed.
Wooyoung just laughed, his mischief only growing as he finally slowed down, his grip loosening as he threw you a victorious smile. “Did you see his face? He was practically glaring daggers at me!”
You rolled your eyes, brushing your hair out of your face as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re going to drive him crazy at this rate. What if he actually loses it?”
Wooyoung smirked, shrugging as if it was no big deal. “Isn’t that the plan? You’ll know for sure if he really likes you.” He wagged his eyebrows at you playfully, nudging you with his shoulder. “Besides, I’ve never seen him that riled up over anything—or anyone, for that matter. And if he’s jealous, it’s because he knows he’s got competition.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but Wooyoung was already shooting you a smug grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he glanced over his shoulder, making sure Sunghoon hadn’t caught up to you. You hated to admit it, but a part of you couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of getting under Sunghoon’s skin, especially after all the times he’d done the same to you.
Wooyoung didn't hold back over the next few days, sticking by your side at every opportunity, always there with that trademark mischievous grin. He’d slide into the seat beside you during classes, insist on walking you to the Great Hall for meals, and show up at the library to “help” you study—even if he spent more time drawing little doodles on your notes than actually being helpful.
You caught Sunghoon watching the two of you on more than one occasion, his gaze dark and intense, lips pressed into a firm line as Wooyoung leaned close to whisper something that would make you laugh. The frustration on Sunghoon’s face was unmistakable, but he never said anything. He would just look away with a huff, his jaw clenched as he turned his attention back to whatever was in front of him.
During Potions, Wooyoung made a particularly bold move, sliding his chair so close to yours that your shoulders brushed as you worked on a shared project. Sunghoon, who sat across from you, glared at Wooyoung with such ferocity that you were sure he’d burst.
“Are you two always this… close?” Sunghoon finally muttered, barely hiding the edge in his voice.
Wooyoung looked up with an innocent smile, putting an arm over your shoulder with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh, absolutely. I’m just here to make sure no one distracts her from her studies,” he said with a wink in your direction.
You bit back a laugh as Sunghoon’s expression turned sour, his fingers tapping agitatedly against the desk.
As the days went on, Sunghoon’s patience seemed to fray bit by bit, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a simmering frustration. You could see it in the way he clenched his fists whenever he saw you with Wooyoung, how he’d roll his eyes when he overheard Wooyoung laughing with you in the library. He even began answering questions more aggressively in class, as though trying to reclaim some attention.
One evening, when Wooyoung had just pulled you out of the library after an impromptu “study session,” you spotted Sunghoon watching you from across the corridor, his expression dark. Wooyoung followed your gaze and smirked, leaning down to whisper, “I think he’s finally reaching his limit. Just wait—he’ll crack any day now.”
--
You were sat in the courtyard, finally getting a moment to study in peace with Wooyoung serving detention, a shadow fell over your books. You looked up, blinking as Sunghoon stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, an intense look in his eyes.
“Studying alone for once?” he asked, his voice casual, but the edge in it unmistakable.
You gave him a small shrug, trying to appear unfazed. “Yeah, Wooyoung’s busy.”
Sunghoon sat down across from you without asking, his gaze flickering over your books before settling on you. “So, you and Wooyoung… you’ve known each other for a while, huh?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly fishing for something.
You raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going. “We’re good friends,” you replied simply. “We’ve known each other since second year.”
Sunghoon’s brows knit together, curiosity—and maybe a hint of jealousy—lingering in his expression. “How did that even happen? You two don’t seem like the most… obvious match.”
You laughed a little at the memory. “Oh, it was something, alright. I found him running from Filch after he’d set off one of those cursed prank fireworks. He practically begged me to hide him, so I did. After that, we just… clicked, I guess. I’d cover for him, and he’d keep me entertained with his ridiculous schemes.”
Sunghoon nodded, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “So you’re telling me you’ve been cleaning up his messes for years.”
You laughed. “Pretty much.”
For a moment, Sunghoon seemed lost in thought, a silence settling between you as he absorbed what you’d shared. He looked down at the book open in front of you—a piece on mythical creatures.
“Sounds like you’re a better friend than he deserves,” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough to hear. And then, without waiting for your reaction, he quickly added, “But maybe you’re just too kind. I doubt you’d turn away anyone if they asked for help.” He leaned forward, arms crossed and a curious look on his face, as if he were ready to seize this moment and talk about anything—everything, even.
“So… this whole mythical creatures thing,” he began, nodding toward the book in front of you. “It’s what you want to do after school, right?”
You hesitated, but then you looked up and caught the way Sunghoon’s gaze softened as he waited for you to answer. There was no trace of his usual smirk or sarcastic tone; he just looked genuinely… interested. Almost desperate to keep this conversation going, like he needed to talk to you, even if it was about the most random thing he could think of.
Letting out a quiet sigh, you nodded. “Yeah… I guess I want to travel, see the world, learn about different creatures out there.”
Sunghoon nodded slowly, eyes never leaving yours. “Makes sense for you.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “What about you, Sunghoon? What do you want to do?”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly awkward as he considered his answer. “Me? Well… my family expects me to follow in their footsteps and work in the Ministry. Some important role that’ll keep the Park name respectable or whatever.”
You raised an eyebrow, surprised at how openly he was talking about it. “And… is that what you want?”
He hesitated, glancing away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “Honestly? No. But it’s not like I get much say in it. My parents… they don’t really ask what I want. They just have this… plan. And I’m supposed to go along with it.”
You softened, forgetting all about Wooyoung’s plan. “Maybe one day, you’ll get to do what you actually want. Even if it means disappointing a few people along the way.”
Sunghoon’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Maybe.”
While you and Sunghoon continued your conversation, Wooyoung burst onto the scene, looking a bit disheveled from detention.
"Hey! You promised you’d help me with Astronomy, remember?" he announced, hands on his hips as he gestured toward the library.
You blinked, taken aback. “Did I? I don’t remember promising that, Woo—”
But Wooyoung wasn’t giving you a moment to think. He sidled up to you, giving Sunghoon a mischievous side-eye as he tried to usher you away. That was, until Sunghoon suddenly stood up with startling speed.
“Actually, we’ll both help you,” he said firmly, his voice determined, like he was making a declaration. He looked between you and Wooyoung, and you couldn’t hide your surprise. Sunghoon had never offered to tutor anyone, much less help anyone study.
Wooyoung faltered for a moment, his usual quick wit momentarily stunned. “Wait, you want to help? Since when does Sunghoon Park volunteer to help anyone?” he stammered, clearly thrown off his game.
Without missing a beat, Sunghoon reached out, grabbing your hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and gently pulled you along. He positioned himself slightly in front of you, blocking Wooyoung’s view just enough to hold your attention. His touch was firm, warm, and you could feel the faintest bit of tension in his grip, as though he was reluctant to let you go.
“Come on,” he said, glancing back at you, eyes lit with determination.
You barely had time to process the boldness of his move, your heart beating a little faster at the intensity in his gaze. But then, from behind you, Wooyoung snapped out of his daze.
“Hey! Don’t leave me!” he shouted, sprinting forward to catch up.
Once inside the library, Sunghoon led you to a secluded corner, where the stacks of books created a quiet, private nook. He settled down across from you, pulling out his Astronomy textbook and parchment without a word. You followed suit, just as Wooyoung stumbled in, slightly out of breath and muttering curses under his breath.
"Merlin, Sunghoon, did you have to practically run here? Not all of us have legs that belong on a Quidditch team,” Wooyoung huffed, plopping down in the remaining seat and tossing his Astronomy books onto the table.
You chuckled softly, but Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice. He had already opened his book and was flipping to a relevant chapter, his eyes scanning the page with a quiet focus. The three of you settled in, and soon, you began explaining the constellations and how to identify them, taking a parchment to map out a few diagrams for Wooyoung.
Sunghoon added an occasional word here and there, though you quickly noticed his advice was always directed toward you, not Wooyoung. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered to look at Wooyoung directly, instead choosing to watch you as you spoke. Every so often, he'd chime in at the end of your explanations, repeating or affirming your words like a quiet echo.
"Right," you’d say, finishing up a description of Orion. “That’s why its belt is so distinctive in the night sky.”
"Distinctive,” Sunghoon murmured, nodding slightly as he watched you, his gaze steady.
Wooyoung, however, wasn’t about to let this slide. He shot you a look of exaggerated exasperation, rolling his eyes playfully as Sunghoon added yet another short agreement after your sentence.
“If I’d known studying with the both of you would be this one-sided, I’d have just gone to Hagrid’s for a simpler lecture,” Wooyoung quipped, pretending to grumble. He shot you a grin. “You’re doing all the heavy lifting here. Sunghoon’s just admiring the view.”
You stifled a laugh, glancing at Sunghoon, who simply shrugged and looked away, not even trying to deny it. A faint blush had crept up his cheeks, but he kept his gaze on his notes, acting unbothered as he continued to jot things down.
The table fell quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the rustling of pages and the scratching of quills. Sunghoon had finally turned his attention to his notes, his posture still stiff and focused, while Wooyoung, sitting across from you, began to plot. You could feel the mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced between you and Sunghoon, an idea forming behind that grin of his. You knew that grin well—it was the kind of grin that spelled out nothing good.
And then, as if on cue, Wooyoung shifted in his seat, straightened up, and suddenly leaned forward, all casual-like.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice loud enough to carry across the quiet library. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if Sunghoon here actually smiled when he helped us study? You know, like… with an actual expression, not just his usual ‘I’m-too-cool-for-this’ face?”
You shot him a look, one that made it clear you were aware of what he was doing. You opened your mouth to say something, but Wooyoung was already going for it. He nudged your elbow gently with his, a silent request for backup.
“I mean,” he continued, his voice deliberately drawing out the words, “I bet you could teach him a thing or two about showing some emotion, right? I’ve seen you make him smile once in a while. That’s kind of impressive, considering, you know… he usually doesn't even seem to know how to have fun. Maybe you should be his personal tutor on that.”
You suppressed a laugh, but it was difficult to stop your lips from twitching. Sunghoon, however, didn’t react at first. He kept his eyes on the page in front of him, though the muscles in his jaw twitched slightly, and his posture tightened.
Wooyoung wasn’t done. No, he was just getting started. He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, as if he were speaking casually about the weather.
“So,” he said with a sly grin, “Sunghoon, what's it like, huh? Sitting here and being the epitome of cool? Don’t you get bored sometimes?” He leaned forward, directing his question to Sunghoon directly now. “You ever get jealous? Like when Y/N and I hang out and I make her laugh, but you can’t seem to do the same? Maybe you could learn something from me after all. You know, how to crack a joke here and there. It’d be a good change of pace for you.”
Your eyes widened, realizing the full extent of Wooyoung’s plan. He was making you the center of attention, and Sunghoon was stuck right in front of you, getting teased in a way that was bound to rattle him.
For a moment, it seemed like Sunghoon was going to retort, but then something changed. He looked at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before his gaze flicked back to his notes.
“I don’t need to crack jokes to be effective,” he muttered, the words clipped and sharp, though there was a distinct edge to them. “But you do seem to have a talent for making everything an entertainment show.”
Wooyoung’s grin only widened at the jab. "Well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting."
You were trying so hard not to laugh, your hand pressed against your lips to stifle the giggles. You could tell that Wooyoung was enjoying to push Sunghoon’s buttons, waiting for him to bite, and it was hard to ignore how Sunghoon seemed to slowly crack under the pressure.
Finally, you couldn’t keep it in anymore. You let out a soft laugh, looking at Sunghoon with a teasing smile. “You’re not gonna let Wooyoung get to you, are you?”
Sunghoon paused, his eyes flickering to you, he exhaled, almost like a sigh, and then said, with a quiet edge, “I’ve got more important things to focus on than whatever this is.”
Madam Pince appeared just as you were trying to suppress the last of your laughter, her stern eyes scanning the room. She spotted you from across the library and made her way over, her expression softening a little when she saw you sitting with Sunghoon and Wooyoung.
"Ah, Y/N," she said in her usual clipped tone. "I’m in need of some assistance. There’s a book missing, and you seem to be one of the few students who knows this library well enough to help me track it down."
You nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to step away from the tension growing between Sunghoon and Wooyoung. "Of course, Madam Pince. I'll help you find it."
You were prepared to leave, but before you did, you leaned closer to Wooyoung, who was still watching Sunghoon, his expression one of quiet amusement.
“Play fair, Wooyoung,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough that Sunghoon wouldn’t catch on.
Wooyoung gave you a wide, mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with the hint of something else—perhaps a little bit of challenge. "You got it, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice teasing.
Then, you turned to Sunghoon, who had been unusually quiet, his eyes focused on his notes but his body language still tight. You weren’t sure if he was just avoiding Wooyoung’s teasing or if there was something else on his mind.
Leaning in slightly, you whispered to him, just as softly as you had to Wooyoung, “Go easy on Wooyoung, alright?”
Sunghoon didn’t immediately respond, but you could see his eyes flicker with a slight surprise. He gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, though his lips remained pressed together in that tight line he often wore when he wasn’t sure how to express himself.
"Fine," he muttered, his tone as close to a concession as you’d get from him.
With that, you excused yourself from the table, gathering your bag and walking away with Madam Pince, who seemed to appreciate the extra pair of hands.
--
You handed Madam Pince the book when you found it, her lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Y/N. You’re always so helpful," she said, before disappearing behind a shelf to return the book to its rightful place.
Once that was done, you made your way back to the table where you’d left Sunghoon and Wooyoung. But when you walked up, you noticed that only Sunghoon remained, his focus still on his notes, though he didn’t seem as intense as he had been earlier. His shoulders were slightly hunched over, his quill scratching across the parchment in front of him.
"Where’d Wooyoung go?" you asked, your voice light but curious.
Sunghoon didn’t look up at first, continuing to write something down before responding. "He got too bored and decided to leave. Probably off causing trouble somewhere," he said, his voice flat.
You sighed, shaking your head. "I should've known. He's always up to something."
Sunghoon just shrugged and went back to his work, not saying anything more.
After some time, Sunghoon glanced up from his notes and reached for one of the books you had both been reading. He scanned a passage, muttering something under his breath before looking at you again.
"Here’s a question," he said, reading aloud. "What do you think is the primary trait that allows a Thestral to remain undetected by most students?" He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours. "I think it's their ability to be invisible to those who haven't experienced death. What would you add to that?"
You thought for a second. "I would add that they also have an inherent ability to sense the emotions of others, which could explain why they only reveal themselves to people who have truly understood loss. It’s not just physical invisibility, it’s emotional, too."
Sunghoon nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing at his lips. "I like that. You’ve got a good point."
As you both continued discussing the finer details of Thestrals, your chairs inched closer and closer without either of you noticing. At first, it was just a subtle shift in the way you both sat, both leaning in a little to be closer to the books and each other’s notes. But soon, you were sitting shoulder to shoulder, the space between you so small it almost didn’t matter anymore.
You could feel the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours, a strange sense of familiarity in the way you both fit together in that moment. And when he passed you a book, his hand brushing yours in the process, neither of you pulled away.
The air between you both seemed to shift, subtle yet undeniable. Time seemed to slow for a moment, and you couldn't help but notice the brief flicker in Sunghoon's eyes—like he was aware of the closeness, of the sudden tension that hadn't been there before.
You both locked eyes, your gazes lingering a little longer than they should have. Then, just as quickly, his gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt a slight shift in your chest. You instinctively licked your lips, a nervous habit, and when you did, Sunghoon's gaze followed the motion, his eyes following the path of your tongue. You could almost feel the shift in his focus as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he had caught it, that he had been watching you so intently.
You gave him a soft smile, just a hint of amusement in your expression, before you quickly looked back down at your notes, trying to regain your composure.
Sunghoon, as if breaking free from whatever spell had taken hold of him, seemed to blink and shake himself out of his trance. His gaze shifted back to his notes, though there was a slight tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual collected demeanor.
"Right," he muttered, focusing on the book in front of him as though it was the most interesting thing in the room.
Your hand, poised over your quill, hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of what to write next. Your thoughts were scattered now—your mind buzzing with a thousand things, none of them having to do with the notes in front of you. You focused on the lines, the words, the shapes of the ink on the page, but it was a challenge. Everything felt so much more present now.
The night had stretched on without either of you noticing. The quiet between you had been comfortable, filled with soft whispers of pages turning and the faint scratch of quills on paper. When you finally stood, stretching your stiff limbs, the weight of the evening pressed down on you. Sunghoon, still by your side, packed his books slowly, as if reluctant to leave.
You both stepped out of the library together, the cool night air hitting you with the suddenness of it, making you shiver slightly. Sunghoon, as usual, was a step ahead of you, walking with that calm, collected air he always carried.
As the doors to the library clicked shut behind you, the portraits along the hallways seemed to come alive, their eyes following you both as you walked. Your eyes flicked over the various faces, and then you noticed a particular painting—two lovers standing close, gazing at each other with love. The two figures in the painting seemed to smirk at you, their eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.
A wave of warmth spread over you, and before you could even think, your face flushed, the embarrassment catching you off guard. You quickly looked away, focusing on the stone floor beneath your feet, trying to hide your blush. That’s when your gaze inadvertently lifted up, and you found yourself looking at Sunghoon.
You hadn’t meant to stare, but you couldn’t help it. His side profile was so striking, every feature seeming perfectly sculpted in the low light of the hallway. His sharp jawline was defined, the angle of it so perfect it almost looked like something out of a painting itself. His nose—straight and sharp—seemed to fit his face so well. You could see the faint moles on his skin, scattered along his otherwise perfect pale skin. His dark hair, messy but somehow perfect, fell effortlessly over his forehead, and the way it framed his face made everything about him seem even more… intense.
But it was his eyes that captivated you the most. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could feel them—those eyes that were usually so guarded, now more thoughtful.
When you reached the entrance to your common room, you stopped, both of you hesitant for just a second. The words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, you looked up at him again, your gaze lingering on his face.
“Thanks for walking me back,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon nodded, and for a moment, neither of you moved. He hesitated before giving you a small, almost imperceptible smile.
“Anytime,” he replied, his voice softer than usual, almost unsure.
--
You tossed and turned in your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, the restless whispers of your bedmates’ snores filling the silence of the dormitory. Despite the rhythmic sound of their breathing, it only seemed to make everything feel more stifling. The night stretched on far too long, the weight of your thoughts keeping you wide awake. No matter how you shifted, how many times you tried to find a comfortable position, sleep refused to come.
It was late. Too late. You should be asleep, but every time you closed your eyes, the thoughts came back, chasing you into a wakefulness that felt almost unbearable. You groaned softly, rubbing your face with both hands.
Sighing in frustration, you finally gave up. With a groan, you sat up, blinking in the dim light that filtered in from the window. You glanced around at your sleeping bedmates, none of them aware of your restlessness. The soft, sleepy murmurs of their dreams only made the weight of your own thoughts feel heavier. You needed to get out.
Quietly, you slipped your legs off the bed and padded across the floor in your slippers. You grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair and threw it on over your pyjamas, the fabric slightly chilly against your skin. Your wand was a comforting weight in your hand as you whispered the slightest incantation under your breath. The quiet "Lumos" from your wand’s tip provided a faint light, just enough to guide your way.
The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet, bathed in shadow, save for the faint glow of your wand. You moved carefully, keeping your footsteps light, aware of the potential danger of being caught. You didn’t want to risk Filch or Mrs. Norris spotting you, so you kept your senses heightened. If you saw anyone, you'd be ready to cast the Disillusionment Charm in an instant, blending into the shadows before they could even register your presence.
Before long, you reached your destination—the Astronomy Tower. You could already feel the calming presence of the stars, even from the base of the tower. You hurried up the winding stairs, each step taking you closer to the quiet peace of the tower. Your breath quickened as you climbed. When you reached the top, you pushed open the door to the tower and stepped out into the cool night air.
The stars twinkled above you, scattered across the sky like diamonds scattered on velvet. The moon hung high and bright, casting a silvery glow over the castle. The familiar peace settled over you, the noise in your head beginning to fade as you stood there, gazing out at the endless night.
As you stood there in the quiet, the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you pulled your attention away from the stars. You instinctively gripped your wand, the spell already forming in your mind, but before you could cast it, a familiar voice rang out, low and quiet, but unmistakable.
“Well, well, didn’t expect to see you here.”
You turned quickly, your heart racing, and found Sunghoon standing just a few feet away. His presence felt like a sudden shift in the air, his gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet steady. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.
“What are you doing here?” You tried to sound casual, but your pulse quickened. You had been hoping for solitude, not the unexpected company of someone who seemed to occupy so much space in your mind lately.
Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in that way that made you feel as though he was always observing, always calculating. “Same reason as you, I suspect. Couldn’t sleep.” He took a step closer, his movements smooth and deliberate. “The stars have a way of making everything… quieter, don’t they?”
You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to make small talk or let the silence stretch on.
“I didn’t think you’d be the type to sneak out at night,” he added, his voice taking on that teasing tone you were so familiar with.
“I’m not usually,” you replied, though the words felt a little less convincing now. “Just… needed some air. Some time away from everything.”
“Everything?” Sunghoon echoed, his eyebrow raising slightly. “Including me?”
You froze, unsure how to answer, but before you could say anything, he was already standing next to you.
You turned your attention back to the stars, unable to meet his gaze. “No, not you,” you murmured quietly, almost reflexively. “I just… don’t know how to sort all of this out.”
Sunghoon was silent for a beat, then spoke again, his voice softer now, a touch more serious. “You know, you don’t have to figure everything out all at once.”
You met his gaze, and for the first time, you didn’t see a challenge there. “I don’t know if I want to figure it out,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
His lips curled into that familiar smirk, but this time, it was different. There was no teasing edge, just the soft hint of understanding. “Fair enough.”
You exhaled slowly, considering his words.
“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice almost thoughtful, “I’ve seen you up here before, on some nights.”
You blinked, surprised. “You have?”
He shrugged, his gaze never leaving the stars. “Sometimes. I didn’t want to disturb you, though. You looked… peaceful.”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that you weren’t sure if you had imagined it. He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he was sitting down on the cold stone floor of the tower, his legs crossed as he looked up at the sky.
You hesitated for a moment, then joined him, sitting a few inches away.
After a long silence, you broke the silence, your voice almost soft. “The stars look beautiful, don’t they?”
Sunghoon glanced at you, but instead of following your gaze to the sky, his eyes lingered on you for a moment. “Yeah,” he agreed. “They are.” His gaze lingered a moment longer.
He never really looked at the night sky at all.
--
History of Magic class had never been your favorite, but this particular day, you were running late, thanks to a rather inconvenient staircase that decided to shift just as you were climbing it. You had narrowly avoided tripping, but it had definitely delayed your arrival to class.
You stepped into the classroom with a quiet sigh of relief, thankful that Professor Binns was, as usual, sound asleep, floating behind his desk in his usual ethereal state.
Your eyes scanned the classroom for an empty seat, your gaze flicking from student to student until you caught sight of Sunghoon. He was sitting a few rows ahead, his expression calm, though his eyes subtly flickered toward you. He gave you a slight nod and a small gesture with his hand, silently urging you to sit beside him.
You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to join him. As you made your way toward him, you felt the weight of your bag on your shoulder, wondering if you’d packed something extra this morning. You dropped into the seat beside him and set your bag down with a sigh.
But as you opened it to grab your notes, you immediately gasped, shocked. There was something extra in there that you hadn’t packed—something that wasn’t supposed to be in your bag. You quickly shut it again, looking around nervously, but fortunately, no one seemed to be paying attention. Most of the class was too busy chatting or goofing off to notice.
Sunghoon, noticing your surprise, raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s wrong?”
You nudged the bag toward him, a questioning look in your eyes. He tilted his head, curious, and then leaned in slightly. Without saying anything, he reached over and opened your bag. When his eyes met yours again, his expression mirrored your own surprise, and he quickly closed it, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.
“What the hell?” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed.
You both kept your voices low, trying to keep the situation between just the two of you. Sunghoon passed you his notes for the rest of the class, a wordless agreement to focus on the task at hand.
By the time Professor Binns finally stirred, slowly waking from his nap, you were practically ready to bolt out of the classroom. Sunghoon, too, had packed up quickly, his eyes flickering over to you as if he shared your urgency.
The moment Binns waved you off with a disinterested dismissal, you were out of your seat in an instant, clutching your bag tightly to your side. Sunghoon followed after you, his footsteps quick and light as he kept pace beside you. The two of you slipped into an empty classroom just down the hall. You quickly shut the door behind you, and Sunghoon locked it, his eyes flicking back to you, unsure of what was about to happen.
You didn’t waste any time. You set your bag on a nearby table and opened it again, and as you reached inside, your fingers brushed against something warm and soft—and then, with a slight tug, you pulled out Spark, the little Niffler, who immediately clung to you with his tiny paws.
You couldn’t help but laugh in surprise as Spark squirmed in your grip, his shiny black eyes gleaming as he wriggled in your arms, his pouch clearly overflowing. “That’s why my bag was so heavy!” you exclaimed in disbelief, shaking your head. “I thought I packed an extra book! How did you sneak in there, little guy?”
Spark tried twisting around in your arms, desperate to get away, but you held him tightly, trying to keep him under control. He was practically a bundle of energy, clearly pleased with himself after whatever little heist he’d gone on.
Sunghoon watched you both for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “How did he even get away from Hagrid?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity.
You shrugged nonchalantly. “Nifflers are tricky,” you said, your smile growing as you felt Spark nuzzle against you, clearly satisfied with his haul.
“I imagine Hagrid’s going to be missing something when he realizes.” Sunghoon said, his tone slightly teasing.
“I’ll return whatever he stole,” you said, a little exasperated, but the fondness for the mischievous creature clear in your voice. “If I can ever get him to give it back.”
Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on Spark for a moment longer before he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Only you could have a Niffler hiding in your bag during school.”
You smiled sheepishly. “Well, I don’t make it easy for myself, do I?”
Sunghoon let out a soft laugh, his gaze still fixed on Spark "Definitely not," he said, a teasing tone slipping into his voice.
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile at the way he looked at you. You adjusted your grip on Spark, who had decided that now was the perfect time to try and escape, wiggling energetically.
"Okay, okay," you said, giving up trying to keep him still. "You win. You can go play, but if you steal anything else, I’m telling Hagrid." Spark let out a small chirp as he scurried off your lap and darted toward a stack of books in the corner of the room, clearly on the hunt for more shiny objects.
Sunghoon’s chuckle faded as he looked over at you, his eyes a little more thoughtful now. "You’ve got a lot going on, huh?" he asked, his voice soft, almost as if he was just realizing something he hadn’t thought about before.
You cut him off with a playful shrug. "It’s nothing I can’t handle," you said, your tone light. "Besides, I’ve got good company to help me through it." You flashed him a grin, hoping to keep things light.
Sunghoon’s eyes softened, his lips curving into a small smile. For a moment, he just looked at you, but before either of you could say anything more, Spark returned with what looked like a shiny button in his mouth, clearly pleased with his new find.
Sunghoon glanced at Spark, then back at you, his expression amused but still thoughtful. "I think you’re more like him than you realize," he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "Getting into trouble, but always figuring it out somehow."
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his words. "I wouldn’t say I’m that bad."
He shrugged nonchalantly, his smile lingering. "Maybe not. But you definitely keep things interesting."
Eventually, Spark seemed to grow bored of his treasure hunt and returned to your lap, curling up contentedly. You smiled down at him, your fingers absentmindedly petting his fluffy little head.
"Guess we should probably get back to studying," you said, your voice softer now, more relaxed.
Sunghoon nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Yeah, I suppose so."
You and Sunghoon made your way to the courtyard after packing up your things from the empty classroom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft golden light over the stone pathways. The courtyard was quiet, except for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of students who had finished their classes for the day. You found a quiet bench near the flowerbeds, your books spread out between you as you settled in to continue your study session.
As soon as you opened your notebook, the challenge began.
"So, what’s this about the Thunderbirds again?" Sunghoon asked, glancing at the page you were studying. "I’ve heard of them, but I’m not sure I get the whole thing."
You couldn’t help but smirk slightly, glad to have an advantage for once. "Thunderbirds are fascinating," you said, your voice animated as you leaned in a little closer to your notes. "They’re massive, magical birds that can summon storms with the beat of their wings. They’re native to North America and are known for being extremely elusive."
Sunghoon leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused smile. "Well, I already knew they could summon storms. But the elusive part? That’s new." He paused, then added, "So, what, they just hide all the time?"
"They’re incredibly protective of their nests," you continued, undeterred by his teasing. "They only show themselves to those they trust, and even then, it’s rare. That’s why spotting one is so special."
Sunghoon hummed thoughtfully, clearly intrigued, but then his gaze shifted to the open page of Defense Against the Dark Arts you had next to you. "Okay, okay. Enough with the Thunderbirds," he said, tapping the page lightly. "What about this spell here? Do you know how to counter the Inferius Charm? Because that’s actually something I’ve been working on in my spare time."
You paused, blinking a little at him. "Inferius Charm?" you asked, your brow furrowing as you tried to recall your lessons. "Isn’t that the one where you reanimate the dead?"
"Exactly," Sunghoon replied, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "It’s really tricky to deal with, but if you know the right counter-curse, you can stop them cold."
You thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I remember the counter-curse is Finite Incantatem, right? But it only works if the Inferius hasn’t fully gained control yet. Otherwise, you need something stronger, like Fiendfyre."
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been reading ahead, haven’t you?"
You smiled, a bit smug. "I like to be prepared."
"Well, I can see that," he said, turning his attention back to his notes. "But let me tell you something you might not know," he added, leaning forward a bit. "A strong Patronus works too. It’s not something most people would think about, but the energy from a Patronus is enough to break the dark magic animating the Inferius."
You blinked, surprised. "That’s… that’s actually really clever."
He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "I don’t just look good, you know."
You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was something about the way Sunghoon said it, so confidently, that made you smile. "I’ll give you credit, that’s pretty impressive."
But you weren’t about to let him have the last word. "But, you know, for someone who’s so good at Defense Against the Dark Arts," you teased, "you should really know that Fiendfyre is a dangerous last resort. It’s not something to throw around casually."
Sunghoon raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I’ll admit it—I was showing off a little."
You both laughed, as you leaned back, taking a deep breath. It was nice, you realized, to have this kind of easy conversation with him.
The cool evening air brushed against your face as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the courtyard in a soft, dusky light. You and Sunghoon continued your quiet study session, each of you focused but every so often exchanging playful glances or little remarks.
You found yourself looking at him more often than you realized, noticing the way the fading light reflected in his dark eyes, how his sharp jawline seemed more defined in the soft glow of the evening.
"So, what’s your favorite magical creature?" Sunghoon asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence between you two.
You blinked, taken off guard by the question. "Favorite?" You thought for a moment, glancing at the magical creatures book on the table between you. "I think I’d have to go with Thestrals."
"Thestrals?" Sunghoon echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Isn’t that a bit dark for you?"
You smirked, tilting your head. "Not at all. They’re misunderstood creatures. They're associated with death, yes, but they’re also symbols of strength, resilience, and the importance of seeing the world for what it is."
Sunghoon seemed to pause for a moment, considering your words. "I get it," he said, his voice softening. "They're like the quiet ones that people forget about or are afraid of, but they're actually kind of… impressive."
You smiled, pleased he seemed to understand. "Exactly. They’re beautiful in their own way."
A comfortable silence stretched between you both after that, the air around you growing cooler as the evening progressed.
As you flipped through your notes, you heard him sigh, and when you looked up, his eyes were still on you.
"You’ve been pretty quiet about your personal life," Sunghoon said after a moment. His voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. "What’s something people don’t know about you?"
You raised an eyebrow, half-suspicious and half-curious. "Why the sudden interest?"
"I’m just wondering," he replied, shrugging with a nonchalant smile. "You know everything about me—well, almost everything—so I thought maybe I’d ask you something personal."
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You weren’t used to opening up about yourself like this, especially to someone who had been a bit of a puzzle to you until now.
"I guess," you started slowly, glancing down at your notes for a moment, "one thing people don’t know about me is that I actually really enjoy quiet moments like this. Everyone always thinks I’m outgoing, but I like being still. I like the peace."
Sunghoon watched you closely as you spoke, his expression softening. "That’s… kind of surprising," he said, almost as if he were contemplating your words. "But I get it. It’s nice to just… exist in the moment sometimes."
You simply nodded.
--
As weeks passed and the tension between you and Sunghoon grew, you found yourself wrestling with your thoughts more and more. The plan you’d concocted with Wooyoung had seemed like a good idea at the time—push Sunghoon into showing his feelings by making him jealous. But now, the thought of it made you uneasy. You had seen the signs in Sunghoon—his subtle glances, the way his attention shifted to you whenever you were around. But you realized you didn’t want to force him into a corner, didn’t want to pressure him into confessing if he wasn’t ready.
The truth was, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, just as you wanted to figure out your own feelings. But that didn’t make it any easier. Your heart raced every time he was near you, and your thoughts seemed to trip over themselves when you tried to sort out what you were feeling. You didn’t want to rush things, didn’t want to push him into something that wasn’t genuine, but you were also terrified of staying in this state of tension forever.
Wooyoung, of course, noticed the change immediately. His wide grin faltered when you told him you were cutting off the plan. "You’re really giving up on this, huh?" he asked, a little disappointment creeping into his voice. "I thought you were just waiting for the perfect moment."
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I don’t want to force him into something, Wooyoung. I’m tired of all the games." You paused, the weight of your words sinking in. "I don’t even know if I’m ready to confess to him, let alone push him into it."
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, his usual teasing expression softening for once. "You’ve got a point," he admitted. "But you know, you’ve got this… tension. Like the two of you are on the verge of something, and neither of you wants to take that step. How long are you going to let that happen?"
You glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush. "I don’t know… I’m scared, Wooyoung. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if we mess everything up by saying the wrong thing?"
He watched you for a moment, his eyes softer than usual. "You’re not alone in that fear, you know? But if you never try, you’ll never know. Just… don’t overthink it."
It was advice that made sense, but the doubt still lingered. You had always prided yourself on being confident, on taking things head-on, but with Sunghoon, everything felt so much more complicated. It wasn’t just about your feelings for him—it was about everything else too. The quiet moments you shared, the unspoken tension, the way he made you feel when he was around. You didn’t want to risk losing all of that by moving too quickly or, even worse, by never moving at all.
And yet, the longer the silence stretched between you, the harder it became to ignore. There were times when you would catch Sunghoon glancing at you across the room, when you’d catch his gaze lingering just a moment too long. And each time, you wondered if he was feeling the same things you were.
The months passed, and the tension between you two only seemed to build. Neither of you had confessed, and yet there was this invisible thread that connected you. Every laugh, every glance, every conversation seemed to deepen the unspoken bond between you. You couldn’t tell whether it was a friendship or something more, but the ambiguity felt like a heavy weight.
You still didn’t know what the right choice was. And as the year went on, you found yourself questioning whether you had made the right decision. Should you have taken the leap? Should you have forced Sunghoon into confessing, just like Wooyoung had suggested? Or was your choice to wait, to let him figure it out on his own, the right one after all?
--
The cool night air wrapped around you as you sat cross-legged on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, your eyes tracing the constellations above. It was one of those nights when the stars seemed to shine brighter, when everything around you felt still and quiet, almost too perfect for the chaotic thoughts running through your mind.
Your focus shifted as you flicked your wand, turning a nearby stone into a delicate flower for only a second before it crumbled back into dust. Sighing, you leaned back, your hands behind you, as you stared up at the sky again, wondering if you would ever find the courage to move past the endless tension with Sunghoon.
Then, just as you had almost settled into the quiet peace of the night, you heard it—a familiar sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You’d recognized the pattern of his steps by now.
Sunghoon’s silhouette appeared at the entrance to the tower, framed by the moonlight streaming in behind him. His figure was tall and steady, his usual confident demeanor not quite as present as it usually was, as if he too had come here to clear his mind.
"You always seem to find your way up here," you said without turning around, your voice quieter than usual, betraying the tension you’d been feeling.
Sunghoon paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room until they found you, sitting on the floor, and he walked over. “I could say the same about you,” he replied, his voice softer than it had been in a while. "What’s got you up here alone?"
You shrugged, unwilling to go into details. "Just needed a break," you said, keeping your gaze on the sky. "Thought some quiet would help me clear my head."
There was a silence between you two then, a gap that seemed too long, yet neither of you spoke up to fill it. Sunghoon finally sat beside you, a little closer than you’d expected, but not quite close enough to feel intrusive.
"Practicing spells again?" Sunghoon asked after a while, glancing at the objects around you.
You nodded. "Just keeping my skills sharp. You know how it is."
Sunghoon smirked, but it was softer than usual. "I thought you only did that when you were avoiding something."
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the slight teasing tone in his voice, but you didn’t give him an answer right away. Instead, you bent down and flicked your wand again, turning a small rock into a sparkling butterfly. It fluttered around for a moment before landing gently in your palm, disappearing almost instantly. You felt a small sense of accomplishment, though it was fleeting.
Sunghoon watched you carefully, the hint of a smile still on his lips. He leaned back on his hands, settling beside you, his body warm despite the coolness of the night air.
Finally, Sunghoon broke the silence again, his voice more serious this time, a tone you weren’t used to hearing from him. "You know, you don’t have to pretend with me."
Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to face him. His eyes met yours, the usual smirk gone.
“I’m not pretending,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly.
He shifted closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don’t have to hide from me," he repeated, his voice softer now, with a touch of concern, or maybe something else. "I’m not like the others. You can talk to me, you know."
You were almost caught off guard by his words. Your heart raced, and your mind scrambled for something to say, something to break the sudden weight of the moment. But all you could do was stare at him, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something.
“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it was enough to make him lean in closer, his gaze softening.
"Yeah?" he said, his breath a little more measured now, as if waiting for something.
But instead of answering, you simply shook your head, unable to find the words that felt right. Instead, you focused on the stars again, trying to ground yourself in the moment.
And Sunghoon, for once, didn’t push you. He simply sat there, his body close to yours, his presence familiar and comforting.
The night air was just as crisp as the night before when you found yourself back in the Astronomy Tower, sitting on the floor, gazing up at the stars. You had come up here again, hoping for some peace and quiet, needing to clear your mind, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was lingering in the air. You were starting to feel like the Astronomy Tower was becoming your place of refuge, even if the company had changed over the past few nights.
As you sat there, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching from behind. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Sunghoon stepped into view, holding a wizard chessboard under his arm, a smirk on his face as his eyes met yours.
“You’re here early tonight,” he said, his tone light but somehow teasing, his usual confidence already in full swing.
You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth curving slightly upward. “And you’re late,” you shot back. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
“Thought we could mix it up tonight,” Sunghoon replied, setting the board down between you. "Wizard's chess."
You chuckled lightly at the idea. “You’re just trying to make this more interesting, aren’t you?”
Sunghoon grinned, shrugging. “Well, I figured it’d be more fun than just staring at the stars again.”
You didn’t argue. The quiet had been nice, but you couldn’t deny that a little challenge wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it was hard to say no when Sunghoon looked so determined to have a little fun.
With that, you both settled down and began setting up the board. It didn't take long for the first round to start. Sunghoon moved with surprising confidence, and it wasn't long before you were both deep into the game. The first round was over before you knew it—Sunghoon had won, and it seemed like he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you about it.
“Looks like I’m just better at this than you,” he said with a cocky grin, clearly pleased with his victory. “Better luck next time.”
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I’ll make sure to do better next round,” you shot back, your voice filled with mock determination.
The second round began, and you could already feel your competitive streak rising. This time, it was your turn to win, and as the last piece fell, you couldn’t help but smirk at Sunghoon.
“Not bad for a second round, huh?” you teased.
Sunghoon let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you that one. But I won’t make it easy next time.”
The third round began, and with it came a more intense back-and-forth. “You know, if you’d actually focus, maybe you’d have a chance at winning this round,” Sunghoon taunted, leaning forward as he eyed the pieces carefully.
You shot him a smirk, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m focused,” you replied with a wink. “I’m just letting you think you have the advantage.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly amused. “Right. I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
You both continued to play, the tension between you growing more palpable with each move.
“I have to say,” Sunghoon mused after a few more moves, “you’re actually pretty good at this. Maybe you’re not just good at charms and transfiguration.”
You smiled, proud of yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. But don’t get too cocky; I’m still winning.” Sunghoon simply chuckled as the game went on.
The final move had been made, and with a smirk, you leaned back triumphantly, knowing that you had won the third round. "Looks like I’m the champion now," you teased, grinning widely at Sunghoon.
He was sitting back, his posture slouched in defeat, but there was something about the way he pouted that made you laugh softly. His eyes were still on the chessboard, as if pretending to study his loss, but you could tell he wasn’t truly bothered by it.
"Aw, don’t be like that," you teased, your voice taking on a playful tone. “It’s just a game.”
Sunghoon stayed silent, not giving you the usual comeback. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the table, pretending to ignore you. You couldn’t resist the impulse to lean in.
As soon as you leaned in closer, though, his gaze flickered up to meet yours, and in an instant, everything shifted. Both of you froze, you were so close now that you could feel his breath mingling with yours, his eyes dark and intent as he locked onto you.
You were about to pull back, unsure of what was happening, but before you could move, Sunghoon’s hand shot up, his thumb and index finger gently cupping your chin. His touch was tender, almost possessive, as he leaned closer.
"Please… don’t pull back," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his breath warm against your lips. His eyes fluttered between your eyes and your lips, clearly entranced by you, by the moment.
And then, before you could fully process what was happening, he closed the distance and kissed you. You widened your eyes in surprise, the shock of it stunning you for a brief moment, before you melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching out to grip his shirt.
It felt like time stopped. The world fell away, leaving only the feeling of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hand still holding your chin as he deepened the kiss.
And just when you thought you couldn’t get any closer, he suddenly moved, shifting beneath you with an ease that surprised you. In a swift motion, he pushed the chessboard aside, sending it tumbling to the floor, and then pulled you onto his lap, your thighs resting against his, while still kissing you deeply.
You gasped, the suddenness of it all catching you off guard. The shock made you stiffen, but Sunghoon only tightened his hold on you, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, his lips never leaving yours. His kiss became more passionate, and before you knew it, his hand was tilting your head to deepen the kiss further.
When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless. You stayed there for a moment, your forehead resting against his, both of you just breathing in the air between you.
Sunghoon’s hand gently brushed your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His eyes, now softer than before, locked onto yours.
“About time, don’t you think?” he whispered.
You smiled softly, the corners of your mouth turning upward in a genuine expression. “Yeah, I think so,” you replied, shifting slightly, finding a more comfortable position on his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist.
His eyes never left yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. You melted into him, your body relaxing into the familiar embrace.
Sunghoon's hands moved to your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get close enough. His lips moved against yours, exploring, teasing, and demanding. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his neck, pulling him closer.
You could feel Sunghoon's breath against your lips, his chest rising and falling with each heavy exhale. You parted your lips, inviting him in further, and he took the opportunity, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. While your hands roamed freely, tracing the lines of his muscular back, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.
When the kiss finally broke, you both were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Sunghoon's hand gently caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your lips. "I could do this forever," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.
You smiled, a contented smile, and leaned in for another kiss, Sunghoon's hands roamed freely, tracing the contours of your body with a gentle touch. Your own hands moved to his chest, feeling the strong, defined muscles beneath your palms.
Sunghoon's lips became more demanding, more insistent. His tongue traced the outline of your lips, teasing and inviting, before plunging into your mouth, exploring every corner.
You gasped softly into the kiss, your body responding to his every touch and movement.
When Sunghoon pulled back, his eyes never left yours. He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before leaning in and pressing soft kisses along your throat. You leaned your head back, offering him more room to explore, your eyes closed, savoring the sensation.
His kisses became more urgent, more demanding, as he traced a path down your throat, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy, his lips moving lower, sending shivers down your spine, his lips teasing and exploring. His lips left a trail of passionate marks on your skin. His hands tugged at the robes, pulling them down to expose more of your bare skin, his touch becoming more assertive.
As he mumbled against your skin, his words were a mix of jealousy and possessiveness. "Seeing you so close with Wooyoung was driving me insane," he growled, his voice low. "You're mine, know that. I can't stand seeing you with anyone else. You're my perfect match, the woman I want, the woman I need."
His kisses became more fervent, his hands roaming over your body. "You're the only one for me. I belong to you."
Sunghoon's kisses became more demanding, his lips pressing against your throat, his teeth grazing your skin. "I want you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with passion. "I need you. You're mine, and I'll show you just how much."
"I'll always be here for you. You're the only one who can make me feel this way." His eyes locked with yours, a smile played on his lips. You returned the gesture, your eyes sparkling with love.
Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, his touch gentle. He traced the lines of your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, as if memorizing every contour. "I love you," he whispered again, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You're the only one for me. I can't imagine my life without you."
You gazed into his eyes, feeling your heart race as his words sank deep into your soul. A warm smile tugged at your lips, and you cupped his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb over his skin. "I love you too, Sunghoon," you murmured softly. "You're everything to me."
--
The next morning, everything felt different.
You were both quieter than usual, walking side by side down the corridors toward the Great Hall, you glanced at Sunghoon, his hand slipping into yours, fingers naturally intertwining as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb gently brushed the back of your hand, a small but comforting gesture that made your heart flutter a little each time.
As you entered the Grand Hall together, the usual buzz of conversation seemed to dim, and all eyes were on you both.
You walked to the Ravenclaw table, your eyes scanning the room as people’s faces lit up with surprise and amusement. Some of your friends, like Wooyoung, gave you knowing smiles, while others were just as surprised as the rest of the students.
You sat down with Sunghoon, still holding hands under the table. He looked over at you, his expression soft and affectionate.
“Can you believe this?” you started, leaning toward Sunghoon as you started ranting, your voice low enough not to be overheard by the entire hall. “It feels like everything has been building up forever and then—boom! Suddenly everyone’s waiting for us to spill everything.”
Sunghoon listened attentively, a small smile tugging at his lips, his eyes never leaving you.
“Well,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, “I’m pretty sure everyone had bets on us getting together.”
You paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Wait, what? People bet on us?”
Sunghoon chuckled softly, his hand still holding yours under the table. “Oh, yeah. You didn’t know?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “We’re that obvious, huh?”
“Apparently,” he said, his smile widening, he gently nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes glinting with affection. Without even thinking, you leaned in and gave him a quick, soft peck on the lips, the sweet, gentle gesture drawing a few surprised gasps and murmurs from nearby students.
You pulled away, grinning as you glanced around the table. “Well, that’s one way to shut them up.”
Sunghoon’s grin matched yours, and he shook his head, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly.
Some students were staring at you both with wide eyes, while others exchanged knowing glances, happy to see the two of you together. You could hear a few whispers, some offering congratulations, others teasing.
As you ate, you caught sight of Wooyoung at the other end of the table, giving you a thumbs up and a wide grin, clearly excited for the two of you.
“I guess we’re official now, huh?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with a little wonder.
Sunghoon nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah. Officially impossible to avoid.”
You laughed, leaning into his side for a moment before picking up your fork and continuing with your breakfast.
Wooyoung, of course, was the one who couldn't resist coming up to you at the given moment, a mischievous grin on his face. “I mean, I knew you two were perfect for each other. Now you have to admit I was right.” He dramatically threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked to class
You simply laughed, shaking your head.
--
The day of graduation arrived, and while the rest of the students was buzzing with excitement—filled with laughter and celebration—you found yourself slipping away from the crowded common room, seeking something more intimate, something quiet. You made your way up to the Astronomy Tower, the cool night air greeting you as you pushed open the door.
There, sitting by the edge of the tower, was Sunghoon, already waiting for you. His dark hair ruffled in the gentle breeze, and he looked so serene, so at peace in this moment that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him. He turned his head as you approached, his eyes softening with affection when they met yours. Without a word, he opened his arms, and you slid into them, resting your head on his shoulder as you both gazed out at the stars together.
After a while, Sunghoon shifted, reaching into his robes with a faint smile, and pulled out a neatly wrapped box. He handed it to you, his eyes warm and full of anticipation.
"I’ve been meaning to give you this," he murmured, his voice soft in the stillness of the night.
Carefully, you peeled away the paper, revealing a small, elegant box. The surface was silver, polished to a shine, and you could see hints of blue around the edges. You ran your fingers over it for a moment before slowly opening the lid.
When you saw what was inside, your breath caught in your throat.
Two clocks, side by side, each gleaming with silver on the outside and a deep, beautiful blue on the inside. Intricate stars were imprinted on the faces of the clocks, each marking the hours with delicate precision. But it wasn’t just the time they showed. Both clocks also had a compass on it—N, S, E, W—engraved in elegant script.
Sunghoon smiled softly as he watched your reaction, the warmth of his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “It’s for us,” he said quietly. "I wanted to give you something that would remind you of us.”
You stared at the clocks for a moment, overwhelmed by the gesture, before you looked up at him. “Sunghoon… this is…” You didn’t know how to express what you felt, the words stuck in your throat.
“Open it,” he said, motioning to the other clock. With a curious tilt of your head, you reached over and carefully opened the glass of the second clock. The moment you did, a soft golden light began to swirl out, slowly forming into a shape. You watched, transfixed, as the golden light took form and danced in the air, weaving together until it became the image of you and Sunghoon—dancing together, caught in an eternal waltz as a beautiful, melodic tune filled the space around you.
You gasped, your hand going to your mouth in surprise and wonder. It was perfect, beautiful in a way you never could have imagined. You glanced at Sunghoon, your eyes wide, and he smiled back at you, his eyes just as captivated.
He opened his own clock, and the same golden light poured out, swirling in the air before it also took shape, the same dance playing out for him as well. His gaze never wavered from you as the music continued to play from both the clocks.
You couldn’t help but smile, your heart full as you looked up at Sunghoon. “This… this is beautiful,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.
Sunghoon’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand reaching to gently cup your face. “I wanted you to have something to remember me by, even when we’re apart,” he said, his voice full of meaning.
Before you could reply, you leaned in, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. You felt him hold you back, his embrace warm and steady, the comfort you’d come to rely on. “I’ll never forget this,” you whispered, “I promise.”
--
The day of your departure arrived with a bittersweet air, the sky painted in soft pastels as dawn crept over the horizon. You stood on the edge of the dock, your packed bags at your feet, glancing back at the shore as you tried to memorize every detail of his face. Sunghoon stood before you, his expression torn between pride and sadness.
Sunghoon had just secured a permanent position at the Ministry—a rare opportunity. But you had your own opportunity, and the call for adventure had been tugging at you for as long as you could remember. You had already been offered a mission that would take you to distant lands and across oceans. It was everything you had always wanted.
Sunghoon’s hand lingered on your arm as he looked at you, his voice a quiet plea, “You really have to go?”
You nodded, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes. “I do,” you whispered, the words heavy with both excitement and sorrow. “But I’ll come back, Sunghoon. I promise.” Your voice wavered, but you steadied it with a smile, reaching to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Will you… wait for me?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course I will,” he replied, his voice strong and certain, as though the very idea of waiting for you was as natural as breathing. His fingers wrapped around yours, his touch warm and grounding. “I’d wait as long as it takes. Just come back to me.”
You nodded, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. Then, his lips found yours in a kiss that held a hundred unspoken promises.
As the final boarding call echoed through the harbor, you reluctantly pulled back, whispering one last, “Goodbye, Sunghoon.”
He offered you a small, brave smile, and with a last squeeze of your hand, he let you go. You climbed onto the boat, joining the other passengers. As the vessel began to pull away from the dock, you stood by the railing, watching him grow smaller with each passing second. Sunghoon lifted his hand in a final wave, and you threw one back, watching as he brought his hand to his mouth and sent you a flying kiss, his eyes never leaving you.
You clutched the railing, feeling the sting of tears but forcing a smile, a mixture of sorrow and exhilaration filling your chest. As the boat carried you into the unknown, you kept your eyes on him until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.
Your days got filled with adventure, traveling through vast, uncharted landscapes, rescuing rare creatures, and studying them closely. You documented each discovery, scribbling notes about their behaviors and habitats. Alongside your journal of field notes, you kept a separate stack of parchment, devoted solely to letters for Sunghoon. Every new place held a piece of him in it, something you wanted to share, some wonder or funny moment that you could only imagine him smiling at.
And he always replied, his letters rich with life back home—updates from the Ministry, stories about mutual friends, and playful teases about your escapades. You looked forward to every letter, savoring the small glimpses of him through the familiar strokes of his handwriting, each one a reminder of the life and love waiting for you.
But one month, his letters stopped coming.
You brushed it off at first, thinking maybe he was just busy or that there was a delay in the postal owls. But when another month passed without a single word, a sense of worry began to settle in your chest. You sent him a new letter, keeping it light-hearted but laced with an unmistakable undertone of concern, hoping he’d notice and send some sort of reassuring response.
But again, nothing came.
With each passing day, the silence grew heavier, until every rustle of feathers outside your tent made your heart race, only to end in disappointment. As more weeks passed, you found yourself sending letters more frequently, each one shorter but more urgent, your worry gradually bleeding into your words.
The unease gnawed at you, your once joyful routine now tainted with an ever-present sense of dread. Every empty day brought more questions—was he hurt? Was he in trouble? Had something happened?
One quiet morning, as you were packing up your campsite nestled in the foothills of the Pyrenees, a Ministry owl swooped down through the trees, its wings stretched wide and a letter clutched tightly in its talons. You straightened up, brushing off a bit of dust as you reached out, and the owl settled onto your forearm with surprising patience. It offered the letter, a pristine parchment sealed with the unmistakable stamp of the Ministry of Magic.
Curious, you took it, feeling the weight of the thick, neatly folded paper as you broke the wax seal.
As you unfolded the letter, a few crisp lines of text caught your attention immediately.
“You are hereby requested to present yourself at the Ministry of Magic for a formal review and trial regarding the research conducted and documented during your travels.”
You read it once, then again, trying to piece together the intentions behind the message. A formal trial? For your research? The Ministry had always been aware of your work with magical creatures, especially since you regularly submitted reports to protect and conserve species that had been neglected. You’d even been granted clearance to travel beyond regulated zones, so why the sudden summons?
You hummed softly, contemplating the letter with a mix of curiosity and unease. It wasn’t every day the Ministry reached out with such formality, and it certainly wasn’t the usual tone you received from them.
You weren’t sure whether to be nervous, intrigued, or just plain confused. You’d spent so much of your time studying and protecting magical creatures, especially those forgotten by the wizarding world, that the thought of a trial for it felt… off. You had no idea why they’d be interested in you, but you were more than willing to go and see what they wanted.
Just as you were about to read it again, you felt a gentle push at your side. With a giggle, you turned and looked at the creature that had nudged you—Erebus, the Hebridean Black dragon you’d rescued some months ago. His large, dark eyes gleamed up at you, and you reached out instinctively to scratch under his chin. His scales shimmered in the late afternoon sun, and his powerful wings rustled with a slight shift, his massive form bending slightly to press against you affectionately.
"Hey, hey, buddy," you said with a soft laugh. "No need to get pushy, I see you there."
You knew full well that Erebus had grown attached to you ever since you had saved him. He was a creature that had been bound, tortured, and left to die in a dungeon before you found him. Healing him had been a challenge, but when you saw the life come back into his eyes, the pride of the dragon slowly awakening as he learned to trust again, it was worth it. Erebus wasn’t just a rescued creature—he was your companion, your friend. And he had stayed with you ever since.
You glanced at the letter again. "I’ve got to go to the Ministry, it seems. They're asking for me."
Erebus snorted at the letter, a cloud of smoke billowing from his nostrils. You coughed and waved the smoke away. "Okay, okay, I get it. Not exactly ideal, right?" You smiled, running a hand over his scales. "But I’m not sure how much of a choice I have."
You looked at the open sky, mentally preparing yourself for the journey ahead.
“Looks like our plans to get you home will have to wait,” you murmured, holding up the Ministry’s letter.
You quickly took out your wand, and with a swish, your camp, all your notes, and the little research station you had set up around you swirled into a tidy, compact form, sucked into your magically expanded suitcase. The suitcase, a nifty little thing inspired by none other than Newt Scamander himself, whose work had been a guiding light for you since your early days as a student. You hoped that one day, you’d be able to follow in his footsteps as a trusted protector of magical creatures.
It had become indispensable during your travels, allowing you to carry your work with you wherever you went. Erebus watched as the suitcase opened and the whirlwind of your belongings was sucked inside, his wings twitching in mild curiosity.
"Alright, buddy," you said with a soft smile, glancing at him. "Time to go home… for a bit."
Erebus made a low rumble and flapped his wings. His deep growl seemed almost resigned, but you could tell he didn’t mind. He had grown used to these travels with you. He flew up effortlessly, circling above your head a few times, before swooping down and slipping neatly into the suitcase as though he’d done it a thousand times before.
"Good boy," you said with a smile, and with a soft click, you closed the suitcase, feeling its weight shift in your hand.
With a deep breath, you started walking, leaving the small, once-familiar encampment behind.
--
You stepped into the bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic, clutching your suitcase tightly as you navigated the maze of witches, wizards, and magical beings bustling around you. The air was filled with the echoes of conversations, the hum of enchanted typewriters clattering away on desks, and the occasional whoosh of a fireplace activating, delivering someone in a puff of emerald flames.
Keeping a firm grip on your suitcase, you weaved your way through the crowd, nodding politely to a few familiar faces and doing your best to avoid making eye contact with anyone who might delay you. When you reached the elevators, the gate clanged open, and you stepped inside.
A house-elf stood on tiptoes near the control panel, staring up at you with large, curious eyes. “Which floor, miss?”
“Level Ten, please,” you replied, your voice steady despite the knot of anticipation tightening in your stomach.
The elf pressed a large, brass button marked with the number "10." The elevator jolted, and you gripped the suitcase handle a little tighter as the floors began to blur past, each accompanied by a soft chime.
After what felt like an eternity, the elevator slowed and came to a halt. The house-elf opened the gate, giving you an encouraging nod. You stepped out into the quiet, dimly lit hallway, your footsteps echoing as you moved. You walked up to a high desk where a stern-looking goblin sat, peering over a thick ledger with tiny, round spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He glanced up as you approached, his sharp eyes narrowing with curiosity as he took in your travel-worn appearance.
“What business do you have here?” he asked, his voice clipped but not unkind.
“I received a letter from the Ministry,” you said, pulling the official notice from your coat pocket and holding it up. “There’s a trial regarding my research.”
The goblin took the letter, inspecting it with a keen eye before nodding curtly. He flipped through a hefty stack of parchment, his long, nimble fingers moving quickly as he scanned each page. Finally, he gave a satisfied grunt and pushed the letter back toward you.
“Please have a seat,” he instructed, nodding toward a row of chairs against the wall. “Someone will come to escort you shortly.”
You thanked him and moved over to the chairs, your suitcase resting against your legs.
You had been sitting quietly in the waiting area, your thoughts whirling, when you saw Jungwon approaching. You recognized him immediately — a Gryffindor from your years at Hogwarts, though you never had much of a chance to get to know him personally. His warm smile caught you off guard, and you blinked as he stopped in front of you, his eyes twinkling with recognition.
"Hey," he greeted, his tone light and friendly. "Please, follow me."
You nodded, standing up as you grabbed your suitcase and followed him down the hall.
“So, how have you been?” Jungwon asked casually, casting a glance over his shoulder as you walked beside him. "It's been a while since Hogwarts, huh?"
You hummed in agreement, trying to place him better. You'd seen him around, but your interactions had always been limited. He was close to Sunghoon, wasn’t he?
“I’ve been well,” you answered, pulling your thoughts together as you walked, eyes flicking to the side. “So, uh… what’s this trial about?”
Jungwon shrugged nonchalantly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Honestly, I’m not really sure. Ministry business, you know?”
Your curiosity couldn’t be quelled, though. “What about Sunghoon? How is he?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.
Jungwon froze mid-step, and you followed his lead, watching as he turned to face you. His expression shifted, no longer the light, easygoing one he had worn just moments before. There was a sadness in his eyes, a quiet heaviness that you hadn’t anticipated.
For a moment, he seemed reluctant to answer, then he sighed. “Sunghoon’s… well. I mean, he’s okay. But,” he paused, studying your face carefully, “he found someone else.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly. “What?” The word felt foreign coming from your mouth, like a punch that left you stunned. “He… moved on?”
Jungwon nodded slowly, a faint frown tugging at his lips. “Yeah. A few weeks ago, actually. Sunghoon became… really different. Quiet, withdrawn. Wouldn’t speak much, and then, out of nowhere, he started showing up with Ju-Won. She’s an Auror too, like him. They’re together now. They’re engaged.”
Your chest felt tight, the air suddenly thicker as a lump formed in your throat. Sunghoon had promised. He had promised to wait for you. But here he was, with someone else. A fiancee.
You looked down at the floor, blinking rapidly to clear the stinging sensation behind your eyes. The room felt smaller, like you were suffocating, and you couldn’t understand why the weight of this hurt so much. You hadn’t expected Sunghoon to wait forever, but you didn’t think he’d let go so easily.
Jungwon shifted uncomfortably, noticing the change in your expression, but he didn’t press the issue further.
You felt numb as you followed Jungwon down the long corridor, his words echoing painfully in your mind. Sunghoon… had found someone else? You struggled to maintain your composure as Jungwon walked beside you, keeping a respectful silence.
He eventually stopped in front of a tall, polished door. “This is where they’ll be holding your trial,” he said gently. “You’ll be called in shortly.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.
Jungwon hesitated for a moment, studying you with quiet sympathy. It felt like he wanted to say something, perhaps offer some kind of comfort, but he seemed to decide against it, only giving you a slight nod before stepping into the room to take his place. You were left alone in the dimly lit hallway, your heart pounding. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the present. Whatever happened with Sunghoon, you would face it later. For now, you had a duty to the creatures you’d studied.
The door opened again, and an official leaned out to call you in. You squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and stepped through the doorway.
The room was silent as you entered, only the shuffling of your footsteps echoing off the cold, stone walls. You took a seat in the lone chair positioned in the center of the room, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes on you. Around you sat a panel of stern-faced Aurors, their expressions unreadable, though a few cast glances at one another as you settled in.
A head Auror, an older witch with sharp eyes and a set jaw, leaned forward. “We’ve received reports about your research,” she began, her voice crisp. “Could you give us an update on the… progress?”
You took a steadying breath and sat up straighter, the words flowing more easily than you expected. "I’ve made significant strides. I’ve been able to identify new species and create methods for safely caring for previously misunderstood creatures. I've also created healing treatments for certain species that were previously unmedicated." You shifted uncomfortably, but you managed to keep your voice steady.
Then came the dreaded question. “And have you rescued any creatures considered… dangerous?” another Auror asked, his tone laced with skepticism.
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Not dangerous if treated with respect,” you replied slowly, though you could feel their eyes narrowing, their skepticism deepening. The more you spoke, the more their expressions tightened.
After you finished, the lead Auror exchanged a glance with her colleagues before turning back to you. “You must understand, there are serious concerns about the dangers of these creatures. The potential for harm — not only to yourself but to others — is considerable.”
Another Auror stood, arms crossed, his voice dismissive. "You expect us to believe that every dangerous creature can be domesticated, tamed even? You do realize some of them are classified as too hazardous for interaction with the public?"
You met his gaze, trying not to show how much it rattled you. "My research shows that with the right methods, creatures like the Hungarian Horntail or the Manticore can be approached safely. I've helped them—rescued them—from illegal situations, from being exploited and misused." You said firmly.
"They're not dangerous if treated properly. With the right care, understanding, and respect, any creature can be manageable." You said earnestly, hoping they could see your perspective. “The true danger lies in the lack of understanding—”
But your words were cut short as she raised a hand, her tone turning icy. “Regardless, we cannot ignore the potential risks. Until further investigation is completed, you will be placed in custody for the time being.”
Before you could fully register her words, two wizards stepped forward, their expressions unyielding. One reached for your suitcase, wrenching it from your grasp, while the other grabbed your arms, twisting them behind your back. "Let go!" you shouted, trying to twist away, but the grip on your arms only tightened.
"We have our orders," the Auror said coldly, his face stoic as the other wizard snatched your wand away.
"No, please," you pleaded, your voice rising in panic. "I’m not a threat. They’re not a threat! Please, don’t hurt them!"
The Auror didn’t respond, and you felt the heavy presence of the two men as they dragged you from the room, your footsteps stumbling as they led you down the cold stone corridors. They escorted you to a small cell, shoving you inside before locking the heavy iron door with a dull clang.
You sank to the floor, the cold seeping into your bones as the reality of the situation settled over you. The Ministry was truly going to investigate your work, your methods, your intentions — as if you were some criminal. As if the creatures you loved and fought for were merely threats, rather than lives in need of protection.
As you pressed your back against the wall, feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down, a tiny warmth stirred in the pocket of your shirt. You looked down and saw Kai, your small fire salamander, peeking out with his bright eyes, looking up at you with a gentle curiosity.
Gently, you cupped him in your hands, letting him sit on your palm as he looked around, with a small, trembling smile, you whispered, “Guess it’s just us for now, Kai.”
You gently placed Kai down on the stone floor, the warmth of his small body still lingering in your hands. You rummaged through your pockets, searching for something that could help, anything that would make sense of the mess you found yourself in. Herbs, a magnifying glass, food for creatures, parchment, ink—nothing useful.
As you sighed and leaned down, when a small fluttering noise caught your attention. Lena, your tiny pixie, had emerged from under your coat and was now fluttering around the cell, her tiny wings flapping excitedly. She squeaked, the sound high-pitched and curious as she zipped around the dim space. You smiled faintly at the sight of her, but your thoughts were too heavy to focus on her antics for long.
Your fingers brushed the cool edges of your pockets until something caught on the fabric. For a moment, you thought it was just some misplaced trinket, but as you pulled it out and saw its familiar shape, your breath hitched.
It was the clock that Sunghoon had gifted you at graduation, still in pristine condition despite everything. You had almost forgotten about it—thinking it misplaced, or perhaps stolen by one of the nifflers in your suitcase. But there it was. The clock.
You ran your fingers over the intricate silver design, the blue inner face still shimmering under the dim light. With a shaky breath, you slowly opened the glass. A soft golden light began to swirl from the clock’s center, and you froze, mesmerized by the familiar vision of you and Sunghoon dancing—just as it had been when you first opened it. The music filled the cell softly, the melody so beautiful and haunting, it almost felt like he was here with you.
Kai curled up beside you, his flame-like body flickering faintly in the dim light. Lena hovered just above your head, watching the clock with curious eyes. You took a deep breath, closing the glass gently, the music fading as you sealed it shut.
But then, unexpectedly, the music played again.
This time, it wasn’t your melody. The sweet, familiar tune was still there, but it felt different. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could process the strangeness of it, Kai’s small squeak interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, and what you saw made your breath catch in your throat.
There, standing on the other side of the bars, was Sunghoon, holding his own clock in his hand, the same golden light flickering from it.
"Sunghoon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, a wave of relief rushing over you, followed by a knot in your throat as you realized he was here.
He glanced at you, his eyes softening, though they weren’t as warm as you remembered. There was something different in them, something you couldn’t quite place. He closed the clock with a decisive motion and met your eyes.
"You’re… okay?" you asked quietly, your heart pounding in your chest as you walked closer to the bars, your hands reaching out instinctively.
"I’m fine," he said, his voice calm but distant. "But you—what happened? Why are you here?"
You tried to explain, your words stumbling out as you told him everything—how you had been summoned by the Ministry, how they had misunderstood your work, how they’d locked you away. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as you spoke, but he didn’t interrupt.
When you finished, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been gnawing at your mind ever since you’d seen him. "Sunghoon, what happened? Why didn’t you answer my letters? I… I sent so many. Why didn’t you—"
He turned away for a moment, running a hand through his hair. You could see the conflict in his movements, the hesitation, and for a brief second, your heart dropped. It was as if he was trying to find the right words. "I… I waited for you," he finally said, his voice soft, almost too soft. "I waited, but you never came back. I kept writing, but I didn’t hear from you."
You felt a tightness in your chest as you processed his words. "What do you mean? I sent you letters, Sunghoon! I didn’t stop writing! How could you not know?" you asked, your voice rising slightly.
He looked back at you, his face confused. "I don’t know. I thought you just… didn’t come back. Didn’t answer. Then, my parents…" He trailed off, clearly struggling. "They found Ju-Won for me. I—I didn’t know what to do. And then Jungwon came to me after the trial. He told me about you being here, and I couldn’t believe it."
Your breath caught in your throat. "Ju-Won?" you whispered, the name like an icy hand on your heart.
He shook his head slowly. "I never wanted this. But I thought… maybe you had moved on, that you weren’t coming back." His voice cracked just slightly.
You looked at him, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. "No, Sunghoon… I never… I never moved on. I sent you letters because I was coming back for you, I was always coming back."
Sunghoon’s expression shifted, a quiet realization flickering across his features. He took a step forward, his hand trembling slightly before he reached out to gently caress your cheek. The touch was so soft, so tender, that it almost felt like a dream.
“You’re still as beautiful as the day you left…” His voice was low, his words barely more than a whisper, but they cut through the heavy silence between you two, settling in your heart like a soft ache.
A stray tear slipped from your eye, and you didn’t even realize it had fallen until Sunghoon gently wiped it away with his thumb.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said, his voice firm now. "I promise, I’ll get you out of here."
You felt your chest tighten, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your heart felt torn, as if it was caught between the relief of seeing Sunghoon again and the panic of the mess you were in. "Please, Sunghoon… don’t let anyone harm my creatures."
He nodded, his gaze softening as he promised, "I won’t let them touch your creatures. I’ll take care of everything."
Then, to your surprise, he took your hand and kissed it softly, the warm pressure of his lips lingering for a brief moment. "I’ll be back soon. Stay safe, okay?"
You nodded, unable to form words as he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading, leaving you alone in the cold cell once again.
You sat back down against the cold stone wall, the silence of the prison pressing in on you.
Kai curled up on your lap, his warmth a small comfort amidst the uncertainty. Lena hovered nearby, her small face full of concern.
You didn’t know what to do now but wait and hope—hope that Sunghoon could undo the mess, that your creatures would remain safe.
After what felt like endless hours, you finally heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. Jungwon appeared at the cell door, a familiar reassuring smile on his face as he unlocked the door and motioned for you to follow. You stood up, heart pounding, and fell into step beside him.
“What happened?” you asked, searching his expression for answers, but he only gave you a gentle smile.
“Come with me,” he said simply, guiding you back through the winding halls of the Ministry to the trial room. The familiar sight of the council waited for you, but this time, the atmosphere was far less severe. You sat down in the chair at the center, your heart hammering in your chest, and looked up at the head Auror as he cleared his throat.
"We’d like to extend our apologies. We received a tip that you were harboring magical creatures with intent to use them against the Ministry," he explained. "After thorough investigation, however, we've concluded that the tip was unfounded. We see now that you only meant to help the creatures in your care."
A wave of relief washed over you, and a smile broke across your face as the head Auror nodded, officially releasing you as innocent. Jungwon stepped forward, his own smile widening, and handed you back your wand. You clasped it tightly, feeling a sense of calm return now that it was back in your hands.
“Thank you,” you said quietly. “What about my creatures? Where are they?”
"Follow me," Jungwon said, his tone lighter now. He led you down a quiet corridor, explaining as you went, "Sunghoon took them under his care. He didn’t trust anyone else to keep them safe."
You sighed in relief, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Finally, Jungwon stopped in front of a door, pushed it open, and gestured for you to enter.
Inside, Sunghoon stood by a desk, his expression tense, and his brows knit together in a rare display of anger. He looked up when he heard you enter, his expression softening, though a hint of frustration remained.
“Sunghoon… what happened?” you asked gently, stepping closer to him.
He clenched his jaw before answering, “It was my parents. They were behind everything.” His voice was low, controlled, but you could sense the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “They hid your letters from me. They sent the tip to the Ministry to have you arrested. And they set me up with Ju-won to… try to make me forget you.”
The revelation hit you like a cold wave. You shook your head, barely able to process the extent of what he was saying. "Your parents did all of that?"
Sunghoon nodded, his eyes searching yours. “They wanted me to move on, to find someone ‘suitable’—someone who fit their idea of a perfect match for me.” He took a shaky breath, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned to you. “I'm so sorry… I should have fought harder, questioned things more. I should have known something wasn’t right.”
You stepped forward, reaching for his hand, holding it tightly. “None of this is your fault, Sunghoon. You didn’t know, and neither did I.”
He nodded, his thumb brushing over your hand as he held it, and his expression softened. "I promise, I won’t let anyone keep us apart again." Sunghoon sighed, his eyes hardening as he pulled off the engagement ring, placing it on the desk without a second glance. He turned to you, a reassuring smile replacing the coldness from a moment ago, and handed over your suitcase.
You exhaled a breath of relief, hugging the suitcase close to your chest. “Thank you… for everything.”
“Come on,” Sunghoon said with a gentle smile, his hand resting protectively on your back as he guided you out. As you walked, you shared stories about the magical creatures you’d encountered on your travels, and he recounted a few of his more daring Auror missions.
But then, a sudden scream echoed down the corridor. You both turned to see a striking witch with dark hair and a sharp, furious expression storming toward you. Sunghoon’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you close.
“Sunghoon, how dare you!” she spat, her voice venomous. “You broke off our engagement for… for her?” She glared at you, eyes filled with barely contained rage. Her voice turned shrill as she pointed a finger in your face. “Do you know what you’ve cost me? The riches, the influence, the Park name—it was all right there!”
You slapped her hand away, your own anger flaring as you met her gaze unflinchingly. “Maybe you should’ve focused on him instead of what he could give you.”
Ju-won’s face twisted in rage, and you saw her hand rise, ready to strike you. But before she could even get close, Lena darted out of your pocket in a flash of blue light. The little pixie squeaked angrily, grabbing a fistful of Ju-won’s hair and tugging with surprising strength.
Ju-won shrieked, swatting at Lena in a desperate attempt to free herself, but Lena only pulled harder, her squeaks of defiance echoing in the hall. The few Ministry workers nearby stopped, eyes wide, as they took in the scene with shock.
“Get it off! Get it off!” Ju-won screeched, struggling against Lena’s relentless hold.
At last, with a little triumphant squeak, Lena released Ju-won’s hair and zoomed back to you, settling into your shoulder pocket. Ju-won stumbled back, face red with fury and humiliation, her hair in complete disarray.
Ju-won’s face twisted with fury when she suddenly pulled out two clocks from her pocket, dangling them from the strings with a victorious grin. “Oh, I will not be cast aside like this!” she spat, voice rising with a venomous edge. “You think you can have everything, don’t you?” she sneered. “Well, let’s see how it feels when something you want is taken from you.”
Both you and Sunghoon stiffened, the realization hitting like a punch to the gut. You immediately began patting yourself down, confirming what you feared—the clock was missing. She stole them. The heavy weight of anger settled over you as you watched her mockingly dangle them in the air.
“Ju-won. Give them back, now.” Sunghoon’s voice was low and commanding, each word sharp with fury.
You stepped forward, frustration bubbling inside you. “Those belong to us. You have no right to take them.”
“No!” Ju-won shouted, clutching the clocks tightly in her fists. With a spiteful glare, she spun around and hurled the clocks toward the nearest fireplace. The green flames of the Floo Network flared up, threatening to consume them.
Your wand was halfway out of your pocket, ready to cast Accio, but before you could speak, a familiar, small, furry figure leapt through the air. With nimble agility, a niffler intercepted the clocks mid-flight, snatching them away from the flames and landing safely on the floor.
The niffler scurried over to Sunghoon, who leaned down, carefully taking both clocks from its little paws. He gave the creature an affectionate pat. “Thank you, Spark.”
Spark beamed up at you, his eyes shining with the same mischievous glint they had from back at Hogwarts. He darted over to you, leaping up into your arms, and you caught him, laughing. “Hey, long time no see, buddy!”
Ju-won’s face twisted in disbelief as Sunghoon straightened, his eyes fierce. He addressed her with a calm authority that made her shrink back. “Ju-won, what you did today only shows that you don’t belong here,” he said, his voice low and unyielding. He leaned in, murmuring something sharp and private into her ear that made her face go pale.
With a final huff, Ju-won spun on her heel, face flushed with humiliation as she hurried away, avoiding the gazes of everyone around.
Afterwards Sunghoon led you toward a nearby fireplace with a small smile, gesturing for you to step in. Together, you went through the Floo Network, the swirling green flames transporting you both to a room that was both luxurious and filled with a sense of calm.
“Welcome to my room,” he said with a soft smile.
You looked around, taking in the warmth of the space. “I can’t believe Spark stayed with you all this time,” you said.
Sunghoon chuckled, “I could never let him go. He’s been a great companion. Right, Spark?”
Spark squeaked in response to that. “Would you like to meet some other nifflers, Spark?” You asked and watched as his eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly. You laughed, reaching for your suitcase and opening it on the floor. Climbing down into it, you looked back up and beckoned to Sunghoon. “Come on in!”
Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, but curiosity won over, and he followed you. Inside, you led him through various sections of your enchanted suitcase, each with unique landscapes and ecosystems for the creatures you cared for. Sunghoon looked around, marveling at the sheer life around him.
Eventually, you reached the area where you kept your nifflers. With a quick call, five of them scampered out, their fur shining under the magical light. Spark chirped in excitement and darted forward, joining his new friends. You straightened up, watching with amusement as Lena, flitted out of your pocket and disappeared somewhere in the terrain.
You turned to Sunghoon, catching the awe in his expression. Smiling, you took his hand, guiding him through the different environments until you stopped by a stone ledge. With a short whistle, you called out, and the ground trembled slightly. Emerging from a large cave opening, Erebus, lowered his head, scales glistening with an otherworldly sheen as he rumbled softly in greeting.
Sunghoon took a small step back, looking at Erebus with a mix of fear and awe. You laughed softly, reaching for his hand again. “It’s okay,” you said gently. “He trusts me, and he’ll trust you, too.”
Sunghoon looked at you, searching your eyes before nodding. Slowly, you guided his hand forward, placing it against the warm, textured scales under Erebus’s jaw. The dragon rumbled again, leaning slightly into Sunghoon’s hand, a deep, pleased purr vibrating through him.
“See?” you whispered, smiling as Sunghoon’s gaze softened in amazement.
Sunghoon kept his hand steady, glancing between you and the massive dragon before him. Erebus leaned further into his touch, his dark eyes half-closing in contentment. Sunghoon exhaled a quiet laugh, a mixture of relief and wonder.
"I never imagined I'd be doing this," he murmured, glancing at you with a warm smile. "You've always had a way with creatures."
You grinned, feeling a swell of pride. "Erebus is special. I rescued him from a terrible situation, and ever since, we’ve had this bond." You gave Erebus a gentle pat before he pulled back, lifting his great head and retreating into the shadows of his sanctuary.
As Erebus disappeared, you turned to face Sunghoon fully. The awe hadn't left his expression. "I can see why you love this work," he said softly. "I missed seeing this side of you."
A warmth blossomed in your chest. "I missed having someone who understood," you replied, voice just above a whisper. "I always wanted to share this with you."
Sunghoon’s gaze softened, and without another word, he leaned in slowly, giving you time to close the remaining distance. The world seemed to fade as his lips met yours, gentle at first, then deepening as you both leaned into each other.
When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, but his forehead rested against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“It’s you and me now, Sunghoon,” you whispered.
He nodded, his eyes sparkling as he took your hand. "Forever, if you’ll have me."
As you leaned up, pressing your lips against Sunghoon's, he responded with a passion that ignited a fire within you. His hand cupped your cheek, While his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of your warmth and presence.
As the kiss lingered, Sunghoon's hands moved down to your thighs, his fingers tracing the soft skin. He lifted you up gently, his strong arms supporting your weight, and placed you on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, his touch becoming more assertive, more confident. He traced the lines of your waist, his fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
When the kiss broke, you both were breathless, your hearts pounding in your chests. Sunghoon's hand gently caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your lips. "I want you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, his eyes filled with desire, caressing your legs, his touch gentle yet firm. His fingers traced the curves of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.
His kisses became more intense, his lips moving from your neck to your collarbone, leaving a trail of passionate marks. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and lust. "I can't get enough of you." He came up to kiss you again. His lips met yours in a gentle, tender kiss. "You make me feel alive, like no one else ever has," he whispered against your lips, his voice hoarse with passion. "I'll always protect and cherish you." He murmured.
And as the kiss deepened, the sweet, familiar melody of your clocks began to chime, the golden swirls dancing out of their glass coverings on the table where Spark sat proudly, watching the scene unfold. The soft notes filled the room, adding a layer of warmth to your embrace, and you both smiled slightly against each other’s lips.
Sunghoon’s hand brushed along your cheek, wiping away the happy tears that had formed there. He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed out softly. His eyes were filled with love, a love that glowed even brighter than the melody around you. Sunghoon looked down at you, his gaze filled with warmth. He took a steadying breath before murmuring, “Would you make me the happiest wizard in the world by becoming mine…forever?”
Your heart raced, and without hesitation, you beamed up at him, feeling a happiness you hadn’t known could exist. “Yes, Sunghoon,” you replied, voice filled with joy. “A million times, yes.”
His smile broke into a brilliant grin, and before you knew it, he was sweeping you off your feet. You laughed, the sound echoing through the room. “You make me so, so happy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never stopped loving you, not even for a moment.”
#enhypen fic#park sunghoon#park sunghoon x reader#sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon#sunghoon enhypen#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x you#park sunghoon imagines#sunghoon imagines#fanfiction#fanfic#park sunghoon enhypen#hogwarts au#kpop fanfic#sunghoon angst
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I saw a comment on your blog that says 'the way you eat does not cause diabetes'...are you able to expand on that or provide a source I could read? I've been told by doctors that my pre-diabetes was due to weight gain because I get more hungry on my anti psychotics and I'd like to fact check what they've told me! Thank you so much!
Pre-diabetes was rejected as a diagnosis by the World Health Organization (although it is used by the US and UK) - the correct term for the condition is impaired glucose tolerance. Approximately 2% of people with "pre-diabetes" go on to develop diabetes per year. You heard that right - TWO PERCENT. Most diabetics actually skip the pre-diabetic phase.
There are currently no treatments for pre-diabetes besides intentional weight loss. (Hmm, that's convenient, right?) There has yet to be evidence that losing weight prevents progression from pre-diabetes to T2DM beyond a year. Interestingly, drug companies are trying to persuade the medical world to start treating patients earlier and earlier. They are using the term “pre-diabetes” to sell their drugs (including Wegovy, a weight-loss drug). Surgeons are using it to sell weight loss surgery. Everyone’s a winner, right? Not patients. Especially fat patients.
Check out these articles:
Prediabetes: The epidemic that never was, and shouldn’t be
The war on ‘prediabetes' could be a boon for pharma—but is it good medicine?
Also - I love what Dr. Asher Larmie @fatdoctorUK has to say about T2DM and insulin resistance, so here's one of their threads I pulled from Twitter:
1️⃣ You can't prevent insulin resistance. It's coded in your DNA. It may be impacted by your environment. Studies have shown it has nothing to do with your BMI.
2️⃣ The term "pre-diabetes" is a PR stunt. The correct term is impaired glucose tolerance (or impaired fasting glucose) which is sometimes referred to as intermittent hyperglycemia. It does not predict T2DM. It is best ignored and tested for every 3-5yrs.
3️⃣ there is no evidence that losing weight prevents diabetes. That's because you can't reverse insulin resistance. You can possibly postpone it by 2yrs? Furthermore there is evidence that those who are fat at the time of diagnosis fair much better than those who are thin.
4️⃣ Weight loss does not reverse diabetes in the VAST majority of people. Those that do reverse it are usually thinner with recent onset T2DM and a low A1c. Only a tiny minority can sustain that over 2yrs. Weight loss does not improve A1c levels beyond 2 yrs either.
5️⃣ Weight loss in T2DM does not improve macrovascular or microvascular health outcomes beyond 2 years. In fact, weight loss in diabetics is associated with increased mortality and morbidity (although it is not clear why). Weight cycling is known to impacts A1c levels.
6️⃣ Weight GAIN does NOT increase the risk of cardiovascular OR all causes mortality in diabetics. In fact, one might even go so far as to say that it's better to be fat and diabetic than to be thin and diabetic.
Dr. Larmie cites 18 peer reviewed journal articles (most from the last decade) that are included in their webinar on the subject, linked below.
#diabetes#t2dm#type 2 diabetes#prediabetes#weight science#weight stigma#fat liberation#fat acceptance#inbox
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focus on me
✩ qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k
SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.
WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)
RATING | explicit
NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!
You stumble back with your palm soiled wet.
Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for what’s to come next.
Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.
It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you break–and he knows you’re far from your breaking point.
Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too.
Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. He’s gained followers over time since you've known him, but you’re his one and only acolyte.
Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk?
Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day and–
Your master calls out your name playfully, “I hope you’re focusing on me.”
“You know I am, Master.” You’re not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction.
He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body.
“You're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,”—he paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every step—“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”
“Well, I can’t help it that my master can be so distracting!” you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him.
Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts.
Master Qimir’s style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so you’ve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him.
However, your confidence blinds you.
Too close.
He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop.
Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down.
In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength.
“Breathe, think, and focus,” he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him.
You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.
Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.
And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core.
Your sparring composure absolutely shatters–a gasp and small moan release, and you’re back to struggling once more.
You assume it was a mistake, but you’re relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress.
“Focus, my acolyte,” Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. “Focus!”
Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation.
With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions.
Now, your staff is pressed against his throat.
“Is this better, Master?” you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. “Am I focused now?”
He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes.
It reads as a rare time he’s overly impressed, but there’s something else.
Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why he’s letting down his guard against you during training.
“Master Qimir,” you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, “is this another test of yours?”
He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from him–tenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face.
“Training’s over for today.”
The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards.
His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame.
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better.
“Master–” you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more.
“You like this a lot…” His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.
You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, “So it was intentional before.”
“Of course.” His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. “You need to learn to push aside your desires when training.”
“Should we stop then?” The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. “To teach me a lesson?”
He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth.
“It doesn’t mean I want to push aside my desires.”
You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.
Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs.
Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; you’re back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours.
In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest.
The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him.
You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.
The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimir’s throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you.
He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes you’re giving him.
Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerability–a sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch.
“You don’t know how long I’ve held myself back…”
The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple.
“...wanting to see you like this for me.”
You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit.
At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what he’s suggesting.
Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock.
When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir.
As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him.
You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length.
The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest.
He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.
When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.
“You take my cock so well.”
A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. It’s drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.
You freeze, and then you feel it.
The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.
But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh.
On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act.
“Do you enjoy this?” he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.
“Yes,” you mentally scream.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” you manage to croak.
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Nu-uh,” he says. “Say my name, my beautiful acolyte.”
You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you don’t reply, he might not let you get there.
“Yes, Qimir.”
His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.
“And how does my cock feel?” He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.
“Feels good, feels so fucking good…”
Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so close—
And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.
You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.
“Before I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.”
That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
“Can you do that for me?”
You nod breathlessly.
Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.
“QimirQimirQimir–”
And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like you’re praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe.
Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later.
Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.
You couldn’t just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated?
But of course, Master Qimir can hear what’s going on in your mind, and he doesn’t even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code:
“‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion…’”
He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.
“‘Through passion, I gain strength.’”
Holds your hand against his beating chest.
“‘Through strength, I gain power.’”
His grip tightens.
“‘Through power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.’”
Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.
And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, he’ll always care for you.
That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, he’s just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.
#qimir x reader#qimir x you#qimir smut#qimir fanfic#star wars x reader#star wars smut#star wars x you#star wars fanfiction
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I genuinely can't get past the idea that when Orion gets the Matrix it's got to be incredibly disorienting.
Imagine nearly doubling in height all at once, being given that much more strength, power in every fiber, and potentially not knowing how to use all of it appropriately. Good gods.
Anywhoo :] I want to know if your Orion would go though some kind of brief transition period where he has to like, figure that shit out. Stumbling and bumbling around like a new mech.
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Haha- yeah, the idea of Orion gaining the Matrix and nearly doubling in size all at once is something I absolutely agree would be incredibly disorienting.
like- imagine being told you’re tiny and small your whole life and then waking up to a completely different body:
one that’s way larger, snd stronger, and far more powerful than anything you’ve ever known! It’s definitely bound to come with a very steep learning curve.
For my take, yes, I think Orion would go through a transition period where he’d have to learn how to function in his new frame. I picture him stumbling and fumbling like a newly-forged mech trying to find his balance, since it’s now off kilter-
He’d probably underestimate his strength too, accidentally break things, and feel utterly awkward and embarrassed.
And although cybertronian doorways are quite large anyway, since Optimus becomes an above average Mech, his attempts to walk through an average doorway, tend to leave him hitting his helm on the frame.
The loud clang startling nearby mechs, as Optimus mutters an emotionless, “Apologies,” as he ducks awkwardly, trying very much to not seem in pain.
While picking up things, he applies too much pressure and crushes anything with a sharp crack. His optics widening as he stares at the remains in horror, and mechs, watching from nearby, burst into uncontrollable laughter, and although they don’t mean harm. It makes Optimus feel quite incompetent in his new form.
Training sessions are also a total mess now, Optimus is unable to find a proper sparring partner, the only one able to do so being Magnus- but Magnus has never really been one to spar with his commander.
The physical adjustments wouldn’t be the only challenge, there’s also the psychological toll. Suddenly, everyone is looking up at him, not just in height but in status.
His face plate, previously shadowed by his helms cap, is now exposed and on full display for all to see. Where mechs once looked down on him, they now study him with closely, awed, at now being able to see Optimus’s face with such HD 4K 1080 detail, now able to see the tiny details and little dents that scatter his face like freckles.
and I think this is where the battle mask comes in.
For Optimus, it becomes more than just armor—it’s a shield from the weight of peoples stares. Even if others see him as regal or commanding, he struggles to see himself that way.
The mask lets him hide the insecurities he feels about his worn helm and dented face plate, protecting him from the crushing expectations from those he leads.
So, yes, I absolutely think there’s a period of stumbling… both physically and emotionally—before he becomes the Prime we all love. but It’s definitely a journey, one full of mistakes, reflection, and eventually, acceptance of one’s self ❤️.
But, I also believe, his transition with his height is far easier for him, then it was for Megatron. Since the only original part of Megatron’s body that remains is quite literally his memory drive, the body he currently has not being made from any of his original form.
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Love & Lullabies | Part 4
✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)
✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie
✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: slow ass burn because the series will be extended indefinitelyyyy yall wanted this 😅, so much kissing, sexting, star wars reference, THIS YOONGI, cliffhanger hehe
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 6.7k
✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 14, 2024
✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist
You glance at the clock again and chew your bottom lip, heart ricocheting against your ribcage. When you sent Yoongi the text, you knew it was overdue. You were finally in a good place—and he was part of what was good.
You’ve known Yoongi for years, but it’s only in the past few months that you’ve really gotten to know him. At this point, you’ve spent hours with him in every context imaginable, from tantruming Haneul to Miss Rachel dance sessions, from boring afternoons to big milestones. But this feels… different.
He’s coming to your place. You haven’t seen him in weeks, not since you kissed in the rain, and he showed up in the hallway, not since everything fell apart and started to piece itself back together again.
You’d started in your pajamas—just a soft cotton set with peaches on them—but after one glance in the mirror, you decided against it. Too casual. Now you’re in a cream-colored cardigan with a camisole underneath and matching joggers. You dabbed on a little lip tint, brushed out your hair, spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. Now, you honestly look like you tried and while you don’t want to be too obvious, you remember he has been the one trying for months. It wouldn’t hurt if you showed him a little effort. And at least now you know you look cute.
The doorbell startles you, and you jolt forward causing a dull pain in your neck, which has been bothering you for days. You roll your shoulders back, in hopes to shake some of the tension away. You wipe your palms on your joggers and rush to the door, catching a quick glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look… fine. You hope.
When you pull the door open, there he is.
Yoongi.
Yoongi stands in your doorway, wearing a gray hoodie, jeans that sit just right on his hips, and New Balance slides—slides—despite the winter chill. His hair, slightly longer now, still looks as soft as when you ran your fingers throu—
“Hey,” he says, stalling your thoughts. His dark eyes meet yours, something in his expression making you a bit self-conscious. But boy did you miss him.
“Hi,” you manage, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat and gesture at his feet. “Slides? In this weather?”
Yoongi glances down, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I was in a rush.”
“Come in,” you say, motioning for him to enter. “When I texted you, I didn’t say it had to be tonight.”
“It had to be,” he says quietly. “For me.”
Your cheeks flush, and you quickly change the subject. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Iced americano?”
He smiles, seemingly glad that you recall his favorite. “Iced americano sounds good,” he says, settling onto the couch.
You head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice and coffee. When you return, you hand it to him, watching as he fumbles with the straw a bit. You forgot just how cute he is.
You sip your drink, glancing at him over the rim before deciding to fill the quiet. “So… first day at the daycare,” you start casually. “It went well.”
Yoongi leans back, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“It was… honestly, it was so great,” you say, the words tumbling out as you set your drink on the table. “The kids are adorable, and the space is beautiful. Everything’s so well set up.” You pause, the memory of the morning making your chest feel warm. “I forgot how much I missed doing that, you know? Like, preparing activities, seeing their little faces light up when they learn something new… it just—it feels good.”
Yoongi’s lips tug into the faintest smile, his gaze steady on you. “You look happy talking about it.”
You nod, almost to yourself. “I am. I feel… lucky, I guess. That I get to do this again.”
His eyes soften in that way that makes your stomach flutter. “I’m proud of you,” he says simply, his tone steady and sincere.
The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink at him. “Really?”
“Of course,” he says simply, leaning back against the couch. “It’s not easy starting over. But you did it.”
“Thanks, Yoongi. I really appreciate that.” You pause, then add, “I’m proud of me too.”
He smiles at that, the kind that’s so subtle you���d miss it if you weren’t looking.
You grin back, the memory of the morning still fresh. “Well, we also had a capybara mascot.”
Yoongi coughs. “Oh? A mascot? That’s… interesting.”
“Yeah,” you nod, narrowing your eyes at him. “It seemed really into me. Kept shaking its ass in front of the kids, though, which… you know, questionable.”
“Shaking its ass?” Yoongi repeats, lips twitching.
“Weird, right?” you protest, though you can’t help but grin. “The thing was strangely enthusiastic.”
Yoongi shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds like a fun mascot.”
But then, he’s not done, like he’s empathizing with the man in the suit. “And of course he would be enthusiastic, it’s your opening day. I mean they probably briefed him to be supportive of you and whatnot. And to be that energetic despite the tormenting heat of that costume, he’s seriously doing the lord’s work…”
Huh.
You blink at him, before you decide to test the theory out.
“Haneul kept calling it Appa,” you say with a straight face. “I told him there’s no way his appa is in a capybara suit.”
Yoongi chokes on his drink, coughing again.
“Are you okay?” you ask, patting his back.
“Fine,” he croaks, his voice raspier than usual. “Just… went down wrong.”
You eye him suspiciously but let it slide, suppressing a smile that’s threatening to slant your lips.
He’s definitely the man in the suit. You’ll get him to admit it one day.
But for now, you brace yourself for the talk you wanted to have.
You set your phone down carefully, the action feeling weighted, like it’s tethered to the words you’re about to say. Your fingers twist nervously in the hem of your cardigan, and you glance at Yoongi, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… umm, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
He looks up at you sharply, his brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”
“For shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, the vulnerability in your chest blooming uncomfortably. “I was in such a bad place mentally. I hated myself, I was dealing with so much unresolved shit that I hadn’t even begun to work through.”
Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. Quiet eyes, just watching you, letting you process your emotions. So you continue.
“Just as you depended on me to care for Han, I started depending on you too. I wasn’t happy with my life, but when I was in your place, I felt detached from my misery. Felt wanted and needed which made me feel good. But then… when Sung Kyung showed up, it was like everything I was already struggling with just got amplified. I thought I was protecting myself, but instead, I just… pushed you away.”
He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and the way he looks at you—tender and unguarded—makes your heart ache. His eyes are dark and steady, the kind that seem to see straight through you, but not in a way that feels invasive or harsh.
“I felt very insecure and abandoned from so many things in my past. I have been working on it though, and I feel like I’m in a better place now.”
The faintest trace of a smile ghosts across his lips as he finally speaks. “I get it,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m glad you’re better. I’ve been there too. Feeling like you have to be strong for others when inside you’re struggling.” He gnaws at his lip. “If I’m gonna be real, I thought you pushed me away because you wanted out. Honestly, if I were you, I’d dip too.”
“Oh Yoongi…” you start, but he shakes his head, so you let him carry on.
“It’s okay, I know my life is… complicated. Everything that happened in the last two months, hell, in the last year, threw me off, too. Like I just lost control of my life. Shit kept piling on and I didn’t know how to deal. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was to do right by Haneul, to make sure he was loved and safe. That was my focus.”
“You’re an amazing dad,” you say with sincerity. “And you’ve been an amazing friend to me, too. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t give up on me.”
His eyes soften further, and he shakes his head, brushing your gratitude away like it’s unnecessary. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice almost gentle.
“At first, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you admit quietly, glancing down at your hands. “I thought maybe you moved on. Or… that you’d rather I wasn’t in your life anymore.”
Yoongi leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he tilts his head to study you. “Peep the countless messages on Kakao that’s left hanging…”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I read every single one. And there were many times that I thought about replying, but I needed to sort myself out. I’m a mess and I didn’t want to drag you down, or add into whatever’s on your plate. You did say your life is complicated.”
“Yeah, but I was just worried about you, because…” his eyes drop to his drink, pauses, then he shakes his head with a chuckle. His gaze meets yours again, his expression firm. “Just promise me something.”
You blink, your hands stilling in your lap. “What?”
“Promise me you won’t do that again,” he says, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, no matter what’s going on.”
You nod before you can even think. “I promise.”
His lips curve into a faint smile, and the sight of it tugs at something deep inside you. It’s such a small thing—a slight upturn of his mouth, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes—but it feels monumental. Like the bridge you’ve both been too scared to cross is finally, tentatively, being rebuilt.
For a moment, neither of you moves. You think about the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, the way his voice wraps around your name like it’s something precious. And so you think, maybe, just maybe, this could still be something.
Yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hey–what happened to your shoulder?” he asks suddenly, breaking the moment.
You blink, caught off guard by the shift. “What?”
“Your shoulder,” he repeats, nodding toward it. “You’ve been rolling it a little since I got here. Is it bothering you?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” you say, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s nothing, really. Just a strain from running, I think. I’ve been pushing myself a bit harder lately, trying to, you know, get my life together and shit.”
Yoongi frowns, his brows knitting together. “Running’s good, but you can’t overdo it. A shoulder strain’s no joke. If you don’t take care of it, it’ll just get worse.”
You smile faintly, appreciating the concern in his voice. “Okay, Dr. Min,” you tease lightly. “Any recommendations?”
He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t let it go. “I mean it. You have to be careful. My shoulder was busted for years, you know. I have a few tricks,” He pauses, glancing at your cardigan. “Can I…? I can take a look if you want. Only if you’re okay with it.”
You gulp. Loud. The neighbors probably heard it. And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His expression is earnest, his hand already halfway lifted in a gesture of permission.
“Uh, sure,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. “That’d be… yeah, okay.” You shift in your seat, angling your shoulder for better access.
He waits for your nod before gently tugging at the edge of your cardigan. “May I?”
Your pulse quickens as you shrug it off your shoulder, leaving the strap of your camisole exposed. The cool air brushes your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Yoongi’s hands as they settle lightly on your shoulder.
His fingers press gently at first, testing the tension in your muscles before applying more pressure. You inhale sharply as he works through a particularly tight knot, your body instinctively leaning into his touch.
“Here,” he murmurs, his tone soft but focused. “This is where it’s worst, right?”
You nod, unable to form coherent words as his hands move with ease, kneading the aches away. Each press of his fingers sends a mixture of relief and something else coursing through you, straight down towards your core.
“You’re really… good at this,” you manage to say, your voice a little breathless. Brain starting to turn into mush.
He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Years of experience. Needed surgery to get my shoulder sorted out. That’s why I’m serious about this stuff. You need to be careful with it.”
His words linger in the air, and you find yourself focusing not just on the pleasure of his touch but on the deep timbre of his voice, and the way he’s always looking out for you even in the smallest ways.
“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. His hands still for a moment.
“Of course,” he says softly, licking his lips as you find his eyes going to yours.
Oh my god. You want to kiss him. Shit, you really do. You wonder if you should turn fully to face him.
But then his hands slip away, leaving your skin feeling colder.
You adjust your cardigan, clearing your throat as you sit back, your mind spinning. The intimacy of the moment—of his hands on you, the quiet concern in his voice—has left your heart like it’s going into cardiac arrest. If he fancies himself as Dr. Min he better fix this.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Better. Thanks, Yoongi.”
“Anytime,” he replies, with a small, almost shy smile.
He leans forward slightly, eyes searching yours, and you find yourself doing the same, your heart pounding in your chest.
For a second, you think he might kiss you—or maybe you’re the one who wants to close the distance.
But then he stands.
“It’s pretty late, I should go,” he says softly, though his voice carries a hint of reluctance.
“Yeah,” you say, standing with him. Your legs feel unsteady as you walk him to the door.
As he steps out, you hesitate for a moment. “Thanks for coming over, at short notice.”
“Nah, I wanted to,” he says, pink dusting his cheeks before he admits. “Is it weird if I say I’ve been waiting for it?”
Before you chicken out, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Yoongi.”
He blinks, startled, then he’s rubbing his wrinkled nose with his index finger. “Goodnight.”
“Drive safe…”
You close the door and lean your back against it, pressing your hands to your cheeks as if that’ll somehow contain the giddy energy bubbling up inside you. It’s stupid, really, how much a simple night with Yoongi—his laugh, his voice, that damn massage—has you grinning like an idiot.
But you can’t help it.
For the first time in a long time, you feel like your heart is beating again, a rhythm that feels almost foreign after the weeks of emptiness you’d carried around.
So, it’s been a week since Yoongi came over.
Each morning at the daycare, Haneul’s nanny walks through the door with her usual warm smile, holding Haneul’s tiny hand as he toddles in. It’s what you’ve grown used to, so you’re not expecting anything different. But sometimes, when the door swings open, you hope that maybe this time, it’ll be Yoongi instead.
It never is.
You shake off the feeling quickly each time. He’s busy, of course. He has his music, his idol schedules. It makes sense that he’d leave the daycare routine to someone else.
But still.
The thought lingers, one you don’t want to examine too closely. Instead, you focus on the small joys: Haneul’s excited “Sarang!” when he sees you, his delighted giggles during circle time, the way he clutches Bora 2.0 during nap time.
And at night, when you’re settling into bed, your phone buzzes. That’s when Yoongi comes to you—not in person, but through his name on your screen.
Yoongi: How’s your shoulder? Dr. Min is still monitoring your progress. You: Much better, thanks. Might even survive the crossfit sesh Joon’s dragging me into. Yoongi: I just texted Namjoon. You’re off the hook. You: What? Yoongi: Can’t do crossfit with a bad shoulder. Doctor’s orders. You: Fine You: You know you’re not a real doctor right? Yoongi: 😑
Then another night:
Yoongi: Haneul wouldn’t stop saying sarang this, sarang that today. Like a little broken record. You: 🥺 My heart can’t handle this. Yoongi: I know.
And then the casual starts to shift:
Yoongi: Did I tell you Haneul fell asleep on my lap during my zoom meeting today? I couldnt move for like an hour and my arm died. You: No, but that sounds adorable. He probably misses u. Yoongi: Yeah. Shld probably cherish this while he’s still not embarrassed by me You: Definitely cherish but why would he be embarrassed by you? You’re such a good dad. Yoongi: I’m trying. But honestly? Sometimes it’s hard. I think about how much I’m giving him and I wonder if it’s enough
You pause at that text, staring at the screen for a long time.
Yoongi doesn’t open up often. When he does, it feels like he’s peeling back a layer, letting you see something raw, something vulnerable.
You: I think every parent feels like that sometimes. But from what I see, Han is such a happy kid. You’re raising him well and he’s so lucky to have you. Yoongi: I needed that. Thank you.
And then, late one night, the tone shifts entirely.
Yoongi: What are you doing right now? You: Bed. About to sleep. U? Yoongi: Same. Thinking about that night. You: Which night? Yoongi: When I came over. And you almost kissed me. 🙂
Oh, shit. Is he drunk?! You sit up, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. Mind thinking nonsense, like if this is about to be a booty call, what panties are you changing into?
You: 💀Be for real. You were definitely leaning in more. Yoongi: Maybe. Yoongi: Would it have been so bad tho?
Your cheeks burn as you stare at the screen, unsure if your heart is racing because of his words or because of the way they make you feel. You start laughing in disbelief, and soon you're screaming into your pillow. What the hell?!
When you finally compose yourself, you decide you want to ask him if he’s being serious. But before you can even start to type, another message comes through.
Yoongi: Stop overthinking it, beautiful. Good night. 😉
It’s late afternoon, and the daycare is winding down. Kids are being picked up by the HYBE employee parents or the designated guardians. There’s only one kid left, and he just happens to be your favorite.
“Sarang!” Haneul’s little voice calls, his gummy smile wide as he wraps his tiny arms around your legs.
“Hi, baby!” you say warmly, scooping him up into your arms. His chubby cheeks press against yours as he nuzzles into your neck, and your heart melts a little. “Wonder where Nanny Mel is…”
Before you can fully bask in the moment, you hear another familiar voice.
“Ready to go, Haneul?”
Yoongi steps into the daycare, looking effortlessly casual (and annoyingly sexy) in his usual hoodie and slides. His hair is swept back today, and you have to mentally shake yourself out of staring, not just of how he looked, but because this is the first time he has ever picked up Haneul from your daycare.
The tiny tot, however, has other plans.
“No!” he says firmly, clutching onto you tighter.
Yoongi arches a brow, amused. “No? It’s time to go home, buddy.”
Haneul shakes his head, burying his face in your shoulder. “Play more!”
You stifle a laugh, patting Haneul’s back gently. “He’s been having a good day,” you explain, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at Yoongi’s soft expression as he watches the two of you.
“Well, I can see that,” Yoongi says, his lips twitching in a small smile. He steps closer, holding out his hands. “Come on, Han. Let’s not bother Teacher Y/N anymore, okay?”
But Haneul just whines and clings to you like a little koala, refusing to budge.
Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his soft hair. And you would probably have swooned if you didn’t have other pressing matters. “Aish, this kid…” Yoongi sighs.
You shift Haneul in your arms, trying to coax him down. “Sarang, your appa’s here to take you home. You’ll see me tomorrow, okay?”
But Haneul just shakes his head again, this time tightening his little fists around your sweater. “Noooo!”
Yoongi crosses his arms. “You know, I thought I’d gained a bit more brownie points in the past months, but clearly, you’re still his favorite person.”
“Aw, don’t say that,” you tease, bouncing Haneul gently in your arms. “He loves you.”
“Yeah, but he adores you,” Yoongi counters, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile that makes your heart do a little somersault.
Finally, after a few more minutes of coaxing and promises that you’ll play together tomorrow, Haneul reluctantly lets go, sliding into Yoongi’s waiting arms.
As Yoongi adjusts Haneul on his hip, he glances at you, his expression softer than usual. “Thanks for putting up with him.”
“It’s not putting up with him,” you reply easily, ruffling Haneul’s hair. “He’s a sweetheart. You’re doing a good job, Yoongi.”
Yoongi pauses, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment. “Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place. “That… means a lot.”
Before you can respond, Haneul suddenly tugs on Yoongi’s hoodie, his little face scrunching up as he says in broken, hopeful words, “Sarang… come… home?”
Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart feels like it might burst.
Yoongi blinks at his son, his expression softening, before a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. He looks up at you, lips curling into that smirk. “I know, buddy. I’d take her home too if I could.”
Stfu?
The comment leaves you completely shook. Is he joking? Is he serious?
As you try to process his words, Yoongi just winks at you, adjusting Haneul on his hip as he heads out the door.
You’re left standing there, stunned, as he calls back over his shoulder, voice smooth like butter, “See you tomorrow, sarang.” And with a bite of his lip, he’s gone. Taking the rest of your sanity with him.
The lights are dimmed, the daycare is quiet, and the faint smell of crayons and hand sanitizer lingers in the air as you finish locking up for the night. It’s been a long day, but instead of feeling tired, you’re restless. Yoongi’s words plague your mind. From the time he brought up the almost kiss over Kakao and that quip he dropped when he picked up Han the other day.
Now you’re sitting in a bus stop near HYBE, gripping your phone tightly, staring at Namjoon’s contact. You’ve already typed and deleted three texts. Why is this so hard? Finally, you force yourself to type something and hit send before you can overthink it again.
You: Are you with Yoongi right now?
A reply pings back almost immediately.
Namjoon: Nope, but why? 👀
You groan. Of course, Namjoon would latch onto that. You can practically hear his teasing tone in your head.
Before you can second-guess yourself again, you press the call button. He picks up after two rings, and before he can get a word in, you rush to say, “Don’t. Just—don’t say anything stupid, Joon.”
“Yo?? Me? Stupid? Never,” Namjoon says, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “But fine, what’s up?”
You hesitate, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I need your help.”
There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon responds, his voice laced with amusement. “Okay, what kind?”
“Not the kind where you get to tease me endlessly,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see you. “Just… can you get me to Yoongi’s studio?”
Namjoon is silent for a moment, and you almost think the call has dropped, but then he laughs. Hard. The kind of laugh that makes you want to hang up and never speak to him again.
“Joon!”
“I���m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wheezes, barely catching his breath. “My baby's all grown up. I’m so proud of you.”
“Stoppp,” you mutter, your face heating up. “I just… there's something I need to say to him.”
“Uh-huh,” he drawls, clearly unconvinced. “And this ‘something’ couldn’t wait until, I don’t know, Monday?”
“Namjoon!”
“Alright, alright,” he says, the teasing note in his voice softening. “I’ll text you the access code to his floor. Yoongi’s probably in there working himself into the ground anyway. He’ll be happy to see you.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay…Thanks..”
“Use protection,” he says, his grin practically audible. “His kid’s still a baby.”
“GOODBYE, Joon.” You hang up to the sound of his laughter. Such an ass.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of Genius Lab, Yoongi’s private sanctuary. The dimly lit hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of a vending machine down the hall. Your eyes fall on the cat flipping you off on the doormat, bold letters reading: GO AWAY.
Yeah, okay. Maybe you should.
So you stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. What are you doing? What’s the plan here?
You didn’t think this through. Not really. It feels reckless—like the day you went to his apartment and found Sung Kyung there with Haneul. You swallow hard, trying to push the memory away. You can’t think about that now.
Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
You start to think maybe you should leave. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Maybe you should turn around and—
The door swings open.
Yoongi stands there, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and exhausted. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves of one arm pushed up to his elbows. His eyes widen when he sees you.
“Teacher Sarang,” he says slowly, like he can’t quite believe you’re standing in front of him.
“Hi,” you manage, gnawing on your bottom lip.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
Yoongi glances past you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I know,” you say quickly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I– I just… I wanted to talk. If you’re not busy.”
He blinks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something. Then he steps aside, holding the door open wider. “No, yeah, come in.”
You take a tentative step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and faint traces of cologne washing over you. The studio is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors reflecting off sleek black walls. It’s minimalist but warm, the kind of space you’d expect from someone like him. There’s a quiet energy to it, one that feels a little intimidating.
Yoongi closes the door behind you, leaning against it. “So,” he says, his tone careful but not unkind. “What’s on your mind?”
“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, staring at your socks before you lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “You.”
“Oh…” His brows shoot up in surprise, but the smirk that tugs at his lips betrays him. He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh?” you parrot as realization dawns on you. The look on his face? Like he has planned this all along. Like all the things he’s been saying and doing is part of an elaborate Jedi mind trick he played on you. And now you’re here—right where he wants you.
A quiet laugh escapes his lips as he lets you stew in your own nerves. He doesn’t move—just stands there, waiting, like he knows exactly what you’ll do next.
You take a step forward, then another, closing the distance until you’re toe-to-toe with him. The smirk growing on his face is both sexy and infuriating as shit. But okay, you remind yourself, he’s been the one waiting on you, chasing you… It’s time to put your big girl pants on.
“I wasn’t planning this,” you admit, letting your bag drop to the floor. “Your doormat’s rude by the way. But… Been thinking about what you texted. If it would have been so bad… if we…”
“You’ve been thinking about that?” He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to follow your train of thought. He licks his lips, maybe subconsciously, but your eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.
“Not just that. Don’t act all innocent. You’ve been planting all these little seeds in my head lowkey for weeks, Min Yoongi.”
His gummy grin widens. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Suspicious as fuck…” You huff, your fingers reaching for the drawstrings of his hoodie. You tug on them playfully, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “And saying that shit in front of your own kid?”
“Damn,” He full-on chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he looks up to avoid your accusatory gaze.
After a while, he looks down. “And you came all the way here just to call me out?” He challenges, voice dropping dangerously lower. “Or are you finally gonna do something about it?”
Your pulse quickens as the distance between you shrinks, his presence so close it feels like it’s wrapping around you. You swallow hard. The thread holding your resolve together snaps.
And then it happens.
You close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s every bit as desperate as you’ve imagined it would be. There’s no hesitation with him, like he knows you are going to pounce and he is ready to be devoured. This mf–
Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrap around your waist, steadying you against him. The way your lips move is fierce, breathless, like neither of you has the patience to take it slow. His tongue swipes against yours, curling in just the perfect way to turn your legs into jelly. Then, his grip tightens to spin you around and–shit–your back hits the door.
Hot and heavy, he breathes your name against the crook of your neck sending electric currents down to your fingertips. You’re easily coming undone with every graze of his soft lips, his wet tongue as it licks a stripe of skin from your neck towards the shell of your ear and the haze of lust is pulling you under slowly but surely.
But you’re not content to stay there. You push him forward, your lips locked again with his as you guide him toward the couch.
He follows easily. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sits heavily, pulling you down with him so you’re straddling his lap.
You open your eyes and you find him locked on you, dark and all-consuming. But then something else catches your eye from your periphery, like there’s another pair of orbs vying for your attention.
“GAHH! The fuck is that?!” you push yourself to a standing position, pointing towards…
The head of the capybara mascot.
Yoongi immediately turns crimson, his ears burning as he runs a hand through his hair.
“Knew it,” you say, staring at him in amusement.
“Fuck.” He groans, slumping back against the couch as he covers his face with his hands. “This is literally the worst way you could have found out.”
“Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?!”
“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me there,” he mutters, peeking at you through his fingers. “I just… I wanted to support you. And obviously I wanted to see Han off on his first day so the costume was—” He pauses, clearly regretting his life choices. “Seemed like a good idea.”
Then it hits you—the exaggerated enthusiasm, the ass-shaking, the way Haneul kept calling the mascot Appa. You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
Yoongi groans again. “This is so embarrassing.”
You climb onto his lap, straddling him without thinking, and gently cup his puffy cheeks between your palms. “No, no, it’s cute.”
“You’re never going to let this shit go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
The laughter fizzles out, replaced by a quieter kind of warmth as you shift closer. His fingers tighten slightly on your hips, grounding you in a way that feels steady and sure.
“I wanted to be there for you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t know how to do it without… pushing too much.”
Your heart swells at his words, and you turn to face him, your gaze meeting his. “You didn’t have to do all that, Yoongi,” you say, your voice just as soft. “But it means a lot that you did.”
His lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.
“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When he lets out a quiet sigh, you get bolder, letting your lips trail down to the corner of his jaw and then just barely grazing his neck.
Yoongi’s breath hitches, hands twitching slightly where they rest on your back. “Y/N…”
You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “I like this look on you,” you tease, your thumb brushing over the faint pink blooming on his cheeks. “My shy little baby boy…”
He narrows his eyes on you, hands settling more firmly on your waist. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but there’s no heat to his words, only fondness.
Suddenly, a knock sounds on his door.
“Yoongi-hyung…” the voice calls out. “You still alive in there?”
“Fuck off, Hobi. I’m busy.”
“There’s an extra pair of shoes out here. And I thiiiink I’ve seen it at the daycare.”
You meet Yoongi’s eyes and he’s barely suppressing a grin. He shrugs, as if to say, it’s up to you if you wanna soft launch this thing.
Eh, why not?
“Hello, Jeonghyeon’s appa,” you call out, confirming his suspicion.
You hear giggles and then a rap on the door. “Wow y’all really not gonna let me in, huh?”
“GOODBYE Hobi.” You and Yoongi say in unison, and then you burst out laughing.
“Bye, lovebirds.”
“Did he need you for anything?”
“Yeah, actually,” Yoongi sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Been working on a track that’s due tonight. Actually it’s been due and this is my last extension.”
“Oh,” you pout.
“Don’t pout, pretty girl.”
“I guess you’re gonna have to kick me out now.”
“Not because I want to. You're welcome to stay, but you might have better things to do.”
“S fine. I’ll go…” you stand up, planning to collect your bag where you dropped it when Yoongi pulls you back down by your belt loops, your full weight settling on him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he cages your body against his strong arms, leaning you both back so his chin can rest on your shoulder, the one without the strain.
“I am so happy you came,” he mumbles against the fabric of your top.
“I haven’t. But you better make me. Soon.”
His chest shakes against your back, “You’re horrible.”
You stay wrapped in his arms for a while, neither of you saying much, the silence warm and comfortable. But eventually, the moment comes when you know it’s time to leave. With a reluctant sigh, you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn to go—only to find Yoongi already on you, his lips capturing yours once more.
“Yoongi—mmmph…” you giggle, pushing him away lightly. “You're never gonna get work done.”
“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He catches your wrist, pulling you back for one last kiss—this one softer, slower—before pushing the door open for you.
“Text me when you get home,” he says and you nod.
You leave the studio with your heart in overdrive, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. By the time you’re in the elevator, you’re grinning like crazy, excitement bubbling in your chest.
Saturday can’t come fast enough.
That night—
You: Are u still in the studio? Yoongi: Yeah :( You: Good luck with your track. I’m going to bed. Gnyt. Yoongi: But i miss you.……….. You: lol You: What do you want? Yoongi: What can you offer? 😇
You sit up on your bed, pulse kicking up again, the way it usually does when Yoongi is involved. Is he really asking for…?
Fuck okay you’ll bite.
You let the strap of your thin cami fall on your shoulders, angle your phone camera so it’s aimed at your cleavage.
You compose the money shot: one hand softly grasps one of your breasts making it almost spill out of your top. Your other nipple, taut and perky, its outline faintly visible against the fabric. Just the perfect visual to tease and still leave a bit of mystery.
You get a few shots and send what you think is the best one.
You: [image attached] Yoongi: fuck Yoongi: baby you’re so sexy You: I’m baby now? What happened to Teacher Sarang Yoongi: idk she definitely not the one sending nudes You: stfu Yoongi: Go away im busy now You: GOODBYE yoongi Yoongi: pick you up at 7? You: If you make it worth my while Yoongi: [image attached]
Oh you’re dead. It’s a shot of his very pink knuckles, his very veiny hands grasping his very hard cock against his dark grey sweats.
You: shit You: yes you may pick me up at 7
Your head is spinning when you cozy up under your blanket and bury your head in your pillows.
Not knowing that come morning your head will be spinning for an entirely different reason.
Dispatch Breaking News: SUGA of BTS and Actress Lee Sung Kyung In A Relationship Congratulations to the couple.
Part 4.5 >
A/N: Ahhhhhhh 🥲 I was initially gonna end it in the part where Yoongi opens the door to his studio and you say Hi.
But decided last minute to throw y’all a bone(r) and extend the scene a bit, in the spirit of Christmas. But that also meant getting to that awful last bit… another dun dun dun
Hope you all liked it still! See you at the comments. As per usual, tell me what you liked, hated, etc etc. Shout at me or whatever!
I always appreciate your feedback. And if you are able to, reblogs are also amazing. :)
Thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo
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