#so its making it difficult to know what im going to write

[michipan]

sfw link ^^

(cracks knuckles) ok so lemme tell you. from the moment i saw this event's masterlist, i was HOOKED by your fic. mean slytherin kai??? YES PLEASE??? gave myself a moment to sit down and really enjoy this fic so i could give you a proper review soooo… prepare yourself, because im completely normal! ^^

starting off with the smut being in his pov… ouuuu yes i love. i can’t remember the last time i read smut in the male lead’s pov, this was so interesting and refreshing (also i couldn’t help but get stuck on the fact that you used “cloying”. such a cool word just wanted to tell you!) but christ… what an opening scene!! this was such a good choice on your part, so many things were told about his character right off the bat— his refusal for intimacy when literally having sex, the degrading way he regards this girl, his dominance… oh lord i was squealing and kicking my feet!!! the fact that he physically pushed down this girl’s hand when she tried to kiss him??? ohhohohohoho ur so good… calling it a line he never crosses… AND WHEN HE WENT “should I?” AHHHHH i can’t. he’s so cold and arrogant and i LOVE IT

“She can’t let him be the one to leave first, not tonight.” im not gonna get into it too much right now because it’s gonna come LATER, but it’s crazy how such small details like these manage to encapsulate your characters so much. it’s like you know all your characters like the back of your hand, im enamoured…

“He strides through the grand halls with the effortless poise of someone who believes the castle itself was built for him.” this sentence. DO YOU KNOW IM CRAZY??? so good so yummy i can imagine him so perfectly… you’re so good at setting the tone, you make it seem effortless; the same goes for status, i absolutely adore that you go into small details like his pristine clothes, the way people react when he passes, the way kai doesn’t regard them— it really sells the whole idea that kai is above everyone, i love it!! EVEN MORE SO when he tries to intimidate a gryffindor, just to get a reaction out of him?? it’s like he needs to prove himself every chance he gets, and the fact that he gets so disappointed when he doesn’t get the reaction he wants is soooo…. fawk… i was a little intimidated… i was a little scared…

your writing is just so??? good??? you keep pulling out imagery left and right and it stuns me because it’s all so unique and not repetitive at all, which is so difficult to do! i love the little motifs that recur throughout (blades, cracks, blood, rot, etc) and how you manage to keep it fresh every time! I read “he could see the ache written in the curve of her back” and immediately ran to my notes to be like “woah!!! me like!!” and TRUST i will be pointing out the other ones i liked!!!

oh also him pretending like he didnt gaf and didn’t want to see mc was so funny to me. he’s just going “i have no choice, i don’t want to see this, idgaf!!” over and over just to get so entranced by her is so akdhadggk okay man. keep telling yourself you don’t care. (btw that whole sequence was SOOOO good!!!)

getting introduced to jay and chaweon was so interesting… i love getting thrown in a situation and be given the context later its my favorite kind of storytelling… it makes everything feel much more intense and trust, my hatred for chaewon is indeed INTENSE!!! when she called??? mc??? DIRTY???? oh i SCREAMED CAUSE HUH!!! but god, this interaction being the way the readers get the mc’s backstory… so delicious. again, you have the ability to set up tone/mood so nicely, and your imagery just amps that up to a 100. “You were the one who showed up on the doorstep with nothing but a trunk and a name no one knew how to say.” you are just so fucking cruel, you know twisting the knife inside of someone after stabbing them is just overkill!!! the fact that her life is just so rough that she even wishes she never got the letter is just so telling…

“Not the muggle-born mistake among children who made spells sing on their tongues, while yours stuttered, cracked, and bled.” this is just perfection. such an intense contrast that shows how the mc perceives herself,,, im giving you a kiss. right now.

MEETING JAY WAS SO. im just gonna repeat myself, but i just love the deliverance in your wording when it comes to certain characters, whether it be introducing them/giving them dialogue. his dismissiveness toward the mc, him laughing at her unease, his dialogue?? oh it’s so telling and i was immediately wary of him… “I wanna be with you. Do that thing with you.”/ “If you really liked me, you’d do it too. You know?” I can just hear that stupid arrogant tone as if what he’s saying is the most obvious thing… good job! I hate him. 💗

HIS PERSISTENCE. THE REVEAL THAT IT WAS ALL A BET. OUHHHHH IM RAGING I HATE THIS GUY!!! him trying to chase after her and asking to talk is such a slap in the face (haha) like??? oh WHO IS YOU!! (also let me tell you the sentence “his form clinging to your shadow” is so fucking cool. just imagining him trying to grab her but not being close enough… your imagery breathes life into this fic)

the switch to kai…. oh 💞💞💞 i can’t i just love his character so effing much. the way he perceives the mc, the way he watches her… the way he grins 🤤 i need him soooooo bad its not even funny. the way he sees her crying and gets HORRNNNNEEEY like wtf do you mean you wanna be the one to make her cry instead($^(#^)& UNDER HIS??? HANDS???MOUTH??NAME??? EXCUSE ME!!? (yes PLEASE!)

this little opposites attract moment you have with kai and mc is just so interesting because of how intense it is, and holy fucking shit i cannot believe i just came to this realization while i typed this up im so fawking dumb: kai’s upbringing was so meticulous, crafted into the perfect leader, someone who can charm his way through anything but can still control the room with a single glance… he was given a formula, given the world, given more attention than he knows what to do with; he’s calm, collected, perfect. and then the mc… is quite literally his counterpart. no family (she’s an orphan right? or rather, adopted? did i pick that up correctly?) mistreated and ignored, forced to care after herself and figure out life, which inevitably flipped itself on its head when she was accepted into hogwarts, a complete 180 from her muggle life.. a storm of trauma and emotions she doesn’t know how to regulate, with powers that are way out of her league [or so she deems] unapologetically herself, unapologetically imperfect. it’s no wonder kai would be drawn to her, she’s everything he’s never been allowed to be!

when kai decides to chase after her, “like a shadow stretching to meet its mark.” (let me just say, the same metaphor for jay and kai, only one is clinging and the other is stretching out? come on. you’re joking.) ouuuu you. you you you you you when i get my hands on you!!! so interesting how the mc knows she’s being followed, and kai doesn’t really care about being subtle?? their dynamic is just so interesting, and kai is so forward it makes me squeal… “The wind caught your hair, brushing it across your cheek. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch it, feel if it was as soft as it looked, feel if you would flinch.” TO FEEL IF YOU WOULD FLINCH YEOOOWWWW HOW INTENSE!!! this whole interaction was just perfection. crazy first (official) meeting, but hell yeah! 

people whispering how dare she? for beating the shit outta jay… grrrr we lowkey gotta kill them. mc not explaining herself bc she knew no one would care anyway… oh we gotta bomb the school! (too much? sorry.) also, i would love to learn more about mc and her powers; i know it was already pretty well established in this fic in regards of what they are and her struggles with them, but i just find it so interesting… something that has the potential to bring her to the top yet is frowned upon, alienates her, and she tries to suppress… i just find it so interesting, along with chaewon’s (ex)friendship with the mc! so much worldbuilding… me love. oh, and her snap at chaewon?? “I have power. You just have a last name.” YESSSSS QUEEN!!! oh everyone cheered. clapped. whistled. screamed, even.

AND KAIS ENTRANCE UGGGGHHHHHHH 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 YOU ARE SO CRUEL FOR MAKING HIM SO FUCKING HOT the fact the you wrote that he was STAKING HIS CLAIM MEOWWWWW im a melted puddle of kai brainrot you cannot be doing this to me its just. not fair!! also why the hell is this man saying he “didn’t do it for me”??? is there a secret third person getting bullied by chaewon in this room that we just didn’t know about?? 

but ough… mc finally breaking down after having to pretend to be strong… this poor girl.. can i just say, despite you mentioning previously that kai was taught to listen and look into someone’s eyes while thinking a million different things, this didn’t feel like that at all… it was just such a raw and intimate moment, the fact that hueningkai didn’t try to use some flowery language to comfort her, didn’t do anything unnecessary,, but just stood there… just to be there. and the kiss… and the fact that it had yet to develop any passion, bc hueningkai is just so confused on why he’s so drawn to her,, “He tasted like someone who hadn’t felt anything in years and hated that you made him want to” god its like you want me to kill myself i hate you. him also being shaken by the kiss… just to tell her to stop crying bc it ruins her face 😭😭😭 god i love him. I LOVE HIM!!!

my goodness, you really did your big one with this fucking character. i love when kai is written in a more cold manner, it’s such a weakness for me; i love that you made him soooo forward, it’s so ridiculously hot. he knows what he wants and doesn’t care that they have different statuses, which is sooo incredibly HOT?? i wondered if it would be a dilemma between the two (as if he’d be repulsed by her or reluctant to chase after her) but the fact that it’s not is SO REFRESHING you have no idea!! him just following her around like a guard dog…. dude my knees are weak. i need to shake you by the shoulders and scream at you so you can realize what this man is doing to me. 

the scene where the mc was having a panic attack was so !!! important to me !!! kai doing something as simple as feeling her pulse and telling her to continue walking with him…. then holding her hand… oh em gee… need that… also yunjin coming up to her after and asking if she was kai’s gf.. and not being super mean and jealous ?! again,,, this is like a breath of fresh air.. it’s not like i hate cliches (love them) but i also find it interesting when you’re just met with the unexpected… like. yunjin’s chill as fuck! okay queen! saying he’s obsessed with the mc… 😖 and calling him unwell LMFAO she’s so chill i wasn’t familiar with her game…

“I’m ambitious,” she said. “And if being ambitious makes me a bad person… then I guess I’m a Slytherin.” this line is so crazy good i ate that shit UPPPP i always think abt that trope where it’s like. idk how to explain it… people that know they’re bitches are more real/better than a person who hides behind a fake persona and tries to convince themselves they’re not rotted… idk. yunjin reminds me of that. 

now lets get to this final scene shall we… everything about this was genuinely perfect. i loved hearing kai talk about his upbringing, talk about how cruel it was but not seeing it that way bc yk… it’s what he grew up with. “He sounded like someone explaining the weather. Like grief was just another season he’d already lived through.” you and that fucking figurative language i cannot believe you just write this shit down like nothing i cant STAND YOU (marry me? ^^)

“I look for you when you’re not around.” DO YOU KNOW IM CRAZY??? IM HUNTING YOU DOWN!!!!

the smut…. im speechless…. kai constantly asking for consent FAWWKKKKK GRRRRRRR I CANT DEAL WITH THIS. YOU CAN TELL ME TO STOP ANYTIME>????A{OEGT&)&)U JJST FUCKING. SHOOT ME!!! “Here?” / “You want me here?” HES SOOOOO>??!>!$@$ im malfunctioning. NEED NEED NEED NEED NEED NEED GIMME GIVE ME HIM NOW

the teasing. the dirty talk. him being a fawking EATTERRRRR MEOWWWWW

HIM CONSTANTLY. FUCKING. KISSING HER. EVERYWHERE. HE JUST. CANT STOP. KISSING HER. DO YOU KNOW. IM FUCKING CRAZY. YOU HAVE THREE DAYS. 

everything about that was just so sweet… so good and charged with emotions and pining, the way they lingered around each other, meticulously cleaning up not because it needed to be perfect, but because it meant having an excuse to stay longer…

the callback to the mc fixing the bed, focused on symmetry. him not caring about it and instead being fixated solely on her. oh FUCK YOU!!!

“Why would you change for me?”

“Because you made me want to,”

oh sigh…. i need to be institutionalized after this. this was just so… soooo perfect… (but also can i say it’s interesting that kai’s first instinct is to mold himself completely around her? it really is all he knows, in a way… it’s okay to be you kai…) BUT ALSO i can recognize the sweetness and adoration that comes with wanting to be like your partner, wanting to understand them more in order to reach a better closeness. i just love overanalyzing ! 

ALRIGHT now let me move onto these following quotes that i just found so interesting and that i wanted to talk about on their own!

“you didn’t notice the silence blooming around you like mold.”  / “boys with bloodlines like poisoned roots” /  “Screw this whole bloody castle and the way it always stank of legacy and rot.” / “A boy born with a silver knife in his mouth,” /  “You felt too much. You burned too brightly. You cracked in places he didn’t understand. You cried like it meant something. You fought like the world still owed you something soft.”

i just wanted to dive a little further into the whole “you have motifs that keep appearing in your figurative language for each character” thing, because this is truly so interesting and (in my personal opinion) a huge standout in your writing! (or at least, this fic? i’ll have to read more of your works to prove this theory… hehe) like how the mc is constantly associated with rot/ruin/cracks, and how kai is always associated with silver/blades ? (THE FACT THAT YOU USED SILVER BLADE INSTEAD OF SILVER SPOON YOURE A GENIUSSS)  and how the themes of power and legacy are also associated with rot/decay… and how there’s a lot of recurring metaphors of blood… i can’t it really is just so amazing to read and pick up on. it just sets up this subconscious premise in the reader’s mind on how they should feel about certain things, gives them physical imagery/ imagery that appeals to the senses and just really elevates the feelings one gets… idk, the fact that you used blooming like mold is so crazy to me. how do you come up with this?? were you blessed by the gods? i hope you know that at some point, i just started cussing you out in my notes. 

okay! let me just say, despite my really, really aggressive review and reactions, i loved this story!! so much!!! i truly think you’re such an incredibly talented writer, you have such a good grasp on imagery and your characters that you manage to intertwine both and elevate your story so much more. the plot was absolutely perfect, im such a sucker for jaded characters like kai, your fic had me hooked from the day it was announced, and i was so excited to see that it was finally out! i’ll add a final comment on the playlist; i was so surprised to see that it went for a much softer, loving sound, but i truly think it fits. it’s so gentle and just added to that yearning that we got in the fic… 10/10, amazing. (die for you, paramore, and w2e in one playlist?? Oh, your mind…) i enjoyed this fic sooooo soso much, i wish i were hit in the head and given memory loss so i could experience this for the first time again. amazing work, im in love with you!

‎₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐓

pairing: slytherin!kai x gryffindor!reader

He was supposed to look away. He was never supposed to crave the one who didn't belong.

warnings: hogwarts au, set in college age, romance redemption, strangers to lovers, pureblood/halfblood societal norms, mdni. bullying!, family!trauma.

smutwarnings: virginity-loss, missionary, oral!fem receiving.

wc: 10k — playlist

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: so happy to be part of this event! thank you to my girls, rain, ash yun and nina for being awesome ily all ^.^ see the event masterlist here.

He grips the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair as he thrusts into her with a steady, punishing rhythm. Skin into skin. Her soft moans turn ragged, a needy, breathless chorus in the dimly lit room. The air is thick with the cloying scent of her perfume, almost too sweet, making his head swim.

“m-more, Kai, please,” she whimpers, her nails scraping at his shoulders, her legs tightening around his hips.

He smirks. They always beg the same way.

He watches her, how her lips part with every gasp, her brows knit in desperate pleasure but as she reaches up, her fingers brushing against his jaw, he knows what she’s after.

A kiss.

He shoves her hand down, ignoring the flash of irritation in her eyes. He doesn’t want to see that. He doesn’t want to see anything but her writhing beneath him as he chases his own high.

He keeps pounding into her, the bed creaking under them, her breaths turning into sharp cries. When he feels himself tip over the edge, he holds her hips still, burying himself to the hilt as he cums hard into the condom. He stays there for a moment, head bowed, catching his breath. He pulls out and steps back, his chest heaving. She lies flushed and trembling, a sheen of sweat on her skin, her hair a tangled mess. He’s already made her release twice tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to press his lips to hers.

A line he never crosses.

She sits up, tugging down the hem of her uniform skirt, smoothing it over her thighs. She ties her hair back in a tight ponytail, her green scarf slightly wrinkled. She watches him with narrowed eyes, her lips still parted and pink. “Why don’t you ever kiss me?” Yunjin says finally, her tone somewhere between curiosity and frustration. “I used to think it was just me… but I talked to some of the other girls you’ve hooked up with. You never kiss them either.”

He shrugs, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he tugs on his jeans. “Should I?”

“Asshole.” Yunjin’s voice is clipped, her eyes sharp with hurt as she stands up. She can’t let him be the one to leave first, not tonight. She smooths down her skirt and grabs her bag, shoulders squared as she heads for the door.

Heuning Kai just watches her, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. He’s known her since their first year, long enough to read every flicker of her mood, how she tries to cover her hurt with anger, how she thinks he can’t see it.

He doesn’t bother trying to stop her. He doesn’t have to.

She leaves with her head high and her footsteps light, and he doesn’t move until the door clicks shut behind her. He shakes his head, a small huff under his breath as he stands and tugs his jeans back up, his shirt still undone.

Kissing. It’s always been too intimate, too close; something that feels like more than he can give. He’s never been interested in playing at something deeper than what they already have. He’s never found the will to do it.

He glances at the rumpled sheets. He will need to have them smoothed out, made right again. Things should be neat, aligned.

He has always hated disorder, the way it jars the symmetry he craves.

He strides through the grand halls with the effortless poise of someone who believes the castle itself was built for him. Every step is confident, his polished shoes clicking softly on the stone floor. When someone calls his name, he turns enough to flash them a half-look. His name is on everyone’s lips. His robes are cut to perfection, dark green and silver threads woven just so, a mark of being a pureblood heir and wealth. He sees the girls watching from the corners, cheeks flushed. Some whisper to each other, others just stare in open admiration. The boys in his own house, look at him with a mix of camaraderie and begrudging deference. They share the same colors and the same crest, but not the same steep.

He doesn’t slow down for them. The air around him seems to shimmer with an arrogance that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Everyone knows who he is and what he represents.

He’s about to turn the corner when someone barrels into his shoulder. He glances up, finding himself face-to-face with a student dressed in vivid red.

A Gryffindor.

“Honestly, must you always be this clumsy?” Kai sneers, his voice dripping with scorn as he glares at the boy. There’s no kindness in his eyes, just the sharp gleam of someone who delights in cutting others down. He’s never had patience for Gryffindors, the way they strut around, so certain of their own virtue, as if bravery alone could make them special.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” he adds with a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Or did you leave that famous Gryffindor courage somewhere behind you?”

He hates their pride, their blind sense of righteousness. It’s always been a sore spot for him — the ones in this house always seem so sure of their own moral, so quick to wear it like a crown. They don’t understand real power. They don’t understand how quickly their loud ideals can be torn apart.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am.”

The Gryffindor boy shoves his hands down into his pockets and walks off without a word. Kai’s smirk falters, turning into a disappointed scowl when he realizes he won’t get the reaction he was hoping for.

He turns back to his locker, swinging the door open and rifling through his books. His fingers move. A sudden burst of laughter echoes from the other side of the hallway, loud and grating. He can’t see them, but the harsh, triumphant cackle is enough. Another group of Gryffindors, undoubtedly.

He hates how their lockers are practically pressed up against his own. How he has to see them every day, laughing like the world is theirs for the taking. It makes his skin prickle with annoyance.

He heard them leave.

With a grunt, he shut his own locker and started toward his first class, but not without catching a faint, choked sound from the direction of the lockers he hated so much.

It’s not that he’s curious. It’s not that he wants to see it.

It’s just that it’s on his way, like a grain of sand stuck in his shoe, like a pedestrian standing in the road he needs to cross. A path he has to take, whether he likes it or not.

At the end of the row, a girl is crumpled in defense, her face hidden in her hands. Her shoulders are trembling, the soft, broken sounds slipping past her lips even as she tries to swallow them down. Even from here, he could see the ache written in the curve of her back, in the way her breath hitched and faltered. The world feels too bright around, the hallway too bright and uncaring.

He breathes.

How hurt must she be to let someone else see her so wrecked, so undone?

"I am not the Darkling" he said softly, his eyes searching mine. "I am not the monster you think I am."

You echo the words under your breath, the pages of your battered book trembling slightly in your hands. You feel your eyes burn, but you don't dare blink. The darkling tried dragged her into the dark, but it was her light, Alina, that ended up swallowing him whole.

Fairy tales for the lonely. Lies stitched into paper and ink. Because in the real world, no one survives being consumed by someone else.

And no one asks to be.

“Hey.” You hear your name. When you glance up, Chae Won is standing over you, eyes sharp with contempt.

She’s supposed to be your friend. A fellow Gryffindor.

Without warning, she snatches the book from your hands and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from where you’d been sitting quietly on the floor. “Can we just stop this, please? I—”

“Stop what?” she snaps, already stepping closer. “Crying to Jay? Playing the victim again?” His name stops you cold.

She doesn’t let up. Her hand fists your hair, enough to hurt. “Do you forget you’re a Muggle-born?” she hisses. “And him? He’s everything people want. We were fine before you. You just had to show up, cry to him like some helpless little thing, and now he thinks you're this princess he has to save.”

Chae Won shoves you hard against the lockers. The metal slams cold into your back, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. She leans in, eyes burning, and says the one thing that never stops hurting, no matter how many times you've heard it. “You’re dirty.”

And just like that, you’re six again.

Not here. Not now. But back in that cold, too-quiet house where no one looked like you. Where you sat at the dinner table and watched mouths move around you like you weren’t even there. Where you learned, early and without being told, how to be invisible.

Where no one taught you how to belong.

You don’t say anything. The words are there, caught in your throat, but they taste like shame. They always have.

The afterthought. The charity case. Strange eyes. Odd temper.

You were the one who showed up on the doorstep with nothing but a trunk and a name no one knew how to say. You tried your best to earn your place, to blend in, to make yourself useful, but they still looked at you like you were something foreign. Something misplaced.

In the darkest corners of the night, you wished you’d never gotten the letter. That magic had skipped over you. That your name had never burned through that parchment. Never touched a wand. Maybe then, you could’ve had a normal life. One where you didn’t have to watch your adopted siblings shine in a world that only ever dimmed you.

Because then maybe, just maybe, you’d get to be normal.

Not this. Not the ghost haunting a place that was never yours. Not the muggle-born mistake among children who made spells sing on their tongues, while yours stuttered, cracked, and bled.

You didn’t even feel that you were crying.

Chaewon stares down at you with a cruel smirk, almost entertained by your tears. You’re frozen, your chest tightening, looking like a ghost of yourself. Pathetic. That’s probably what she’s thinking. Then she shoves you again hard. Your body hits the cold locker room tiles with a sickening thud, pain through your spine. You flinch, but you don’t even try to get up.

“Tell anyone,” she sneers, leaning down. “and you’ll regret it.”

They left you right after that.

No one would believe it anyway. You’ve spent your whole life fighting, pretending you're fine, building yourself up just to keep surviving. You wear strength like armor. But now?

Now you’re nothing but shattered pieces on the floor. No one saw you break. No one knows how hard you cried.

No one fucking knows.

"What?" Your voice comes out sharper than you meant, caught off guard.

It was the morning after — after everything and Jay had found you outside like he always does. The golden boy of Gryffindor, the one everyone seemed to adore without question. For months, he'd been chasing you. Sweet smiles, thoughtful words, persistent in his way. He asked you out more times than you could count and a month ago, you said yes.

That was why Chaewon hated you more now than ever.

Jay leans in across the picnic table, casual and unbothered like nothing had shifted in your world. Like you hadn’t spent the night before crumpled on a locker room floor, swallowing sobs and blood.

"I said you should sneak into my dorm later," he repeats. You blink at him. You had planned this picnic, thought maybe today would give you a moment of peace. A needed softness, but now his words float in the air like smoke, invasive and unexpected. He doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble slightly. Or if he does, he says nothing.

You swallow hard.

"Why would I do that? I could get caught," you say, your voice uneasy, the words tumbling out. Jay laughs, it was as if your nerves are a joke to him.

"Come on," he says, grinning. "It’s been a month now. I wanna be with you. Do that thing with you."

Your stomach turns. You might be naive but you’re not stupid. You open your mouth to say something, to maybe ask what he really means, to question the way he’s looking at you like he’s owed something, but he cuts you off. "If you really liked me, you’d do it too. You know?"

You look at him, stunned, like a deer caught in headlights. The boy you thought wanted you for you is now dangling your feelings like bait on a hook. "That... that won’t prove if I like you or not,"

"What do you mean?" he asks, brows furrowing. "So you don’t wanna do it?"

"Of course I would," you say quickly, your throat tightening. "But not right—"

"Not right now?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s always your excuse."

"Excuse?"

He leans back, annoyed. "You know, if you don’t want me, just say it."

You freeze. His next words come out in a bitter, quiet mumble, like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying them aloud. "If this wasn’t for a stupid bet, I wouldn’t—"

"What?" Your voice is almost breathless. Cold rushes through your chest like someone ripped the air straight from your lungs. He doesn’t answer. His eyes widen, just for a second — just long enough to tell you everything you needed to know.

Your mind races. You remember the guilt that bloomed in your chest every time you turned him down, thinking you were the one being difficult. You remember how sad he looked when you said no, how it made you feel like you were failing him. How you apologized for it, over and over, thinking you were the one ruining things.

You remember trying, really trying to open up. The effort it took to prioritize someone else's wants over your own. The nights you rehearsed words in your head, how to say things gently, carefully, so he wouldn't feel rejected. You remember the ache of being left out, how his friends would talk around you like you were invisible. The silence when you spoke. The forced smiles when they laughed at jokes you didn’t understand because they were never meant for you.

You remember Chaewon's cruelty and you remember convincing yourself it was all worth it because he chose you.

"I was a fucking bet?" Your voice comes out hoarse. You stare at him, this boy who once looked like something good. Something kind. All that softness you thought you saw in him feels like a lie now.

You can feel the fire start to rise in your blood. You wore the same house colors.

"I—It was from the start, but then—"

“We’re done.” A blade slipped between the ribs.

You stand, your eyes focused on anything but him. You don’t look at the people beginning to notice, don’t care about the whispers. Your chest is hollow and screaming, but your face doesn’t show it. You walk the grounds like your heart isn’t shattering with every step.

You feel him behind you, his frantic footsteps, his form clinging to your shadow. You feel the stares, the weight of every eye on you.

"Can we please talk?" he pleads, his hand wraps around your wrist.

You turn your head and slap his face so hard it echoes. He doesn’t even get to process it before your foot collides with his, a sharp kick that throws him off balance. Pain, humiliation — all of it written across his face now for everyone to see.

“I said we’re done.” Your voice cracks but not out of weakness. It cracks from the sheer force of holding back everything you could’ve screamed. "You're evil."

He’s looking at you now like he’s the one broken. You turn, this time for good. Your body is trembling, anxiety crawling beneath your skin like a thousand needles, but your steps are steady. You're done.

Kai lounged on the stairway, tuning out the crude, drunken laughter of his housemates as they bragged about the girls they’d had the night before. Their voices blurred into nothing. His eyes scanned the grounds lazily, flashes of yellow, green, blue, red, the usual mess of students he barely cared to notice.

He saw you.

He saw you and remember how you cried that night.

He leaned forward without thinking, resting his chin on his hand, the world narrowing to just you. Everything else fell away against the blinding, face of yours. You moved with a kind of arrogance he recognized instantly: head high, steps sharp, like the world didn’t deserve you. The fire in your eyes. Typical of your house — spoiled, untouchable. He should’ve been bored.

He couldn’t look away. He couldn't stop hearing remembering your soft whimpers the night before.

A boy in red caught up to you, fumbling for your attention, desperate to be seen. Kai watched, as you turned to him with a look of pure disdain. The boy stammered something, like he was apologizing. You slapped him. Hard.

Kai’s mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin.

You didn’t stop there. You kicked the boy’s foot out from under him, angrily spat a few words he couldn’t catch, and walked off, not even glancing back. Kai’s eyes stayed locked on you, tracking every furious step you took across the grounds. You tried to hide it; the tremble in your hands, the way you blinked too fast but he caught it.

You're crying.

His chest tightened, something crawled under his skin. How much sweeter would it be if he were the one to do it? He could already picture it: your pride, your voice breaking, your pretty face crumpling; under his hands, under his mouth, under his name. Not for some sniveling boy, but for him.

Only him.

You didn’t even know his name. He stayed where he was, eyes following your broken form.

Kai had grown up as the only son of a pureblood family, where reputation bled deeper than blood, and control was not a suggestion but a rule etched into the spine of every morning. He was taught to be composed, restrained, untouchable — never too loud, never too soft. Smile, but not too often. Speak, but only when it matters. Feel, but never let it show.

He’d been raised that way.

His life was built on legacy. Emotions were weakness. Kindness was liability. He was not held, not comforted, not loved — only shaped.

They carved obedience into him like marble.

He watched his father hold entire rooms in silence with nothing but a stare. Watched him speak to people as if their existence was a favor, an inconvenience he barely tolerated and everyone listened. Everyone bowed. He learned early that power wasn’t just about magic.

He wore it well. Better than most.

He learned how to mimic empathy without feeling it. He learned how to laugh on cue, how to listen without caring, how to look someone in the eye while thinking of a thousand other things.

He drifted through life half-asleep, wearing the world like an ill-fitting coat. Friends, lovers, enemies; it was all noise. Meaningless. Predictable.

You were raw, undone, human. Everything he wasn’t. Everything he had been taught to crush.

What would it take to ruin you completely?

With every difiance in his body he stood up. He found himself taking step forward. Kai moved before he realized he was moving.

The sound of his housemates' laughter faded behind him, smothered under the pounding in his ears. He descended the steps with the same cold precision he was raised with, but something feral stirred beneath his ribs. His strides were steady, calculated, like a shadow stretching to meet its mark.

You were walking fast, too fast, your back stiff and your steps clipped. Anger clung to you like perfume, sharp and choking. He trailed you from a safe distance, ignoring the students who brushed past, oblivious. All he saw was the set of your shoulders, the shake in your hands. He could practically taste the heat radiating off you.

You turned a corner. So did he.

You passed the greenhouses, cut through the arch, your pace stuttering as if your own breath was betraying you. You didn’t notice him. Or maybe you did. Maybe you felt it — that feeling like you're being watched, hunted. The air changed around you.

Kai waited until you slowed near the old stone path that led toward the empty wing of the castle. Then he spoke.

His voice didn’t waver. “Why did you hit him?”

You stopped walking.He watched your back rise with a breath, then you turned.

Your eyes met. For the first time.

Up close, you looked even more dangerous. Even more breakable. Fire and ruin, cloaked in pride. Your lips were trembling, but your jaw was clenched. He took a slow step closer, tilting his head slightly, studying your face like it was a spell he hadn’t learned yet. Something unreadable flickered in your eyes — recognition? fear? anger?

He spoke again. “Is he the one who made you cry?”

Your fingers curled at your sides. You narrowed your eyes, not answering, as if silence could keep you safe.

Kai smiled, cruel. “You're not very good at hiding it.”

“I heard you last night,” he said, voice so calm it almost sounded kind. “In the hallway. You were crying.”

Your expression twisted. “Were you spying on me?”

“Observing,” he corrected, as if it mattered. “You’re... difficult to ignore.”

You scowled and turned to walk away, but this time he moved,faster than you expected, cutting into your path. “Your name,” he said. “Tell me.”

You stared at him like he was insane. Like something in him wasn't right and you were right. Something wasn't right. “What, so you can tell your little pureblood friends? Have a laugh?”

“So I'll know what to call you.”

Your breath hitched. He didn’t smile this time. His eyes dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. He could see it, the flicker of panic behind your bravado, the instinct to run, the ache in your throat from holding everything in. And yet, you didn’t move. You stayed rooted.

Still burning. Still human.

Still too much for someone like him.

“You're insane,” you said.

“I've been told.” Kai murmured. The wind caught your hair, brushing it across your cheek. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch it, feel if it was as soft as it looked, feel if you would flinch. “Tell me your name,” he said again.

You stared at him for a long time. Seconds stretched like hours. A war in your eyes, as you spoke your name. Maybe if you gave him your name, he would leave you alone.

“Wasn’t hard,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Was it?”

He stared at you for a second longer, and when you didnt answer him he turned and walked away; no grand gestures, no parting words. A slow retreat, like he’d taken exactly what he came for. You stayed frozen in place, blinking hard, as if shaking off some invisible fog. The anger you felt with Jay minutes ago completely erased in your mind.

You told yourself he was just another entitled, pureblood brat playing mind games. But somehow… you knew he wasn’t done with you.

It was a surprise that you didn't cry a tear when you returned to your dorms that night.

The sun filtered through the high windows in thin, silver lines, catching on the dust that hovered in the still morning air. Breakfast chatter filled the Great Hall.

You walked in alone. As usual.

Your boots echoed softly against the stone as you passed through the threshold, robes hanging heavy off one shoulder, the collar of your uniform just slightly wrinkled. Your hair was pulled back, but loose strands clung to your cheeks from where you’d barely bothered to dry it. There were shadows under your eyes. A bruise of exhaustion, of restraint.

People noticed. They always did.

You could feel it, the way heads tilted toward each other when they thought you weren’t looking, how eyes followed you just long enough to make your skin crawl. It wasn’t new.

That’s her, they’d whisper. Muggleborn. Dangerous. Did you hear what she did to that Golden boy? How dare she?

You could’ve explained. You could’ve said he tricked you. Said he turned you into a bet, but you’d learned a long time ago, they never really wanted your side of the story.

You crossed the room, spine straight, steps controlled, passing the long tables like you didn’t notice the silence blooming around you like mold. You sat at the edge of your table. Your plate filled with food, untouched by your hand. A flick of your fingers beneath the table, no wand. No words.

A few first-years flinched.

Your fingers hovered over the rim of your goblet, then curled back. You weren’t hungry. You hadn’t slept much. A voice still rang in your head like a spell that hadn’t worn off.

“So I'll know what to call you.”

Kai sat three tables over, surrounded by his housemates; all perfectly-groomed pureblood sons and daughters of old families, boys with bloodlines like poisoned roots. He wasn’t speaking. He rarely did, but his gaze was fixed on you like a blade laid flat across your skin. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t smirk. He just watched. As if you were something worth waiting for.

You held his gaze. Steadily.

He didn’t look away. The last time you locked eyes with someone like that, they ended up on the floor, clutching their ribs, coughing blood, but Kai didn’t flinch.

He simply raised a single brow, like he was inviting you to do it. Daring you. Testing the temperature of your fury. You clenched your jaw and shoved your chair back, the scrape echoing louder than it should’ve.

Screw the eggs. Screw the toast. Screw this whole bloody castle and the way it always stank of legacy and rot.

And just as you stood, “Filthy little freak. Thinks she’s special.”

Your fingers twitched. You didn’t need a wand. The goblet in front of the boy crushed. Water soaked his robes. Gasps echoed. You didn’t look back. You kept walking.

You weren’t afraid of what you could do. You were afraid of how easy it was now.

The doors slammed behind you as you left the Great Hall, but you didn’t get far. You’d barely made it into the courtyard, “Well, if it isn’t our little wandless wonder.” The steps behind you were deliberate. Stiletto-sharp. The sound of privilege. You turned around.

Chae-won stood there, arms folded, robes pristine, her platinum hair twisted in a perfect knot that screamed power. Her prefect badge gleamed on her chest like it mattered. And behind her, always behind her. trailed two other girls.

“Chae-won,” you said flatly.

Her smile was razor-thin. “Did you think we wouldn’t hear? Poor Jay.”

“What?”

“You slapped him. Humiliated him. In front of everyone,” she hissed. “He was apologizing, you freak.”

“You know nothing.”

Chae-won’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, please. He did something, or what? That gives you the right to act like some dark creature in the middle of the grounds?”

You didn’t flinch. “I said you know nothing.”

Chae-won blinked, her voice lowered to something crueler. “So? Do we care about a mudblood like you?”

You looked at her. Really looked. And wondered how many people had handed her the world and called it earned. You remember the first year you were friends, the first year she knew all of you, and the once smile on your face whenever you see her. It all became a blur when people looked at you as a misfit.

Your hands twitched again.

“You planning to explode something else?” Chae-won taunted. “Go on. Show us what you can do. Everyone’s already terrified. Might as well give them a real show.”

You stepped forward. “You want to know the difference between you and me?” Chae-won raised a brow.

“I have power. You just have a last name.”

Her jaw tightened, but before she could respond, before she could reach for her wand or hurl another insult, a voice broke through from behind: “Chae-won.” She froze.

Kai stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes locked not on her but on you.

“I’d stop if I were you,” he said, calm, lazy, terrifying.

Chae-won blinked like she hadn’t heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not repeating myself,” His shoulder brushed yours, intentional as he passed and stood between you and her. Not defending you, but as if staking a claim.

Chae-won’s face burned. “This has nothing to do with you, Kai.”

“It does.”

She stood there for a second, jaw clenched, then scoffed. “Figures. Your house never know where to keep your standards.” Then with one last look at you, all venom and fury, she turned and stormed off, her little shadows flurrying after her.

You looked at Kai. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at you. “I didn’t do it for you.” And yet, he was still standing there. Still between you and the world.

You hated how you lived your years.

You hated the way your life had built itself around survival; around silence, around swallowing things that no one else ever seemed to choke on. You hated that you were born like this, like a wrong answer in a question nobody asked.

You hated that once, long ago, you’d called Chae-won your friend. That you’d laughed with her, studied with her, braided her hair in the dormitory mirror. You hated that she knew all the parts of you worth breaking and now she used them like blades.

You hated that even now being Muggleborn wasn’t enough. Wasn’t already a mark on your back. No, you had to be different, too. You had to wield wandless, wordless magic, the kind they couldn’t control, couldn’t track, couldn’t replicate and that made them stare, like you were unnatural.

You hated that, out of all the people in this castle, the one who wouldn’t look away was him.

Kai. A stranger. A Slytherin. A boy born with a silver knife in his mouth, and the gall to look at you like he saw past your fury, like he saw you about to break.

You walked away; fast, sharp steps that echoed off the stone corridor — hoping he wouldn’t follow.

He did.

You didn’t stop him. You hated that, too.

You didn’t speak, didn’t glance back, you kept walking until the hallway emptied behind you. Until there were no portraits, no prefects, no Chae-won, no whispering mouths. A stone and silence and the feeling of someone watching you like a match watches a flame.

When you reached the end of the corridor, where the light didn’t quite reach and the air felt still and forgotten, you stopped. Your shoulders rose once, then fell. The first sob cracked out of your chest so violently it startled even you.

You tried to cover it, your hand flying up to your mouth, like that would make it less pathetic, but it didn’t matter. You were already shaking, already crying, already too human to stop it now.

Behind you, he didn’t say anything.

You sank down against the wall slowly, like your legs had given out — not from fear, not from pain but from carrying it all too long. The silence between you pulsed, thick and unkind, and still he stayed. No comfort. No lies.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” you whispered, not even knowing if you meant your life, or this day, or this moment. Maybe all of it. You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel the way he was listening.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, voice raw.

You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying like this in front of him of all people. Your lips trembled, and your vision blurred, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

And Kai just sat there.

Watching. Unmoving. Unbothered.

Or so you thought.

Kai exhaled slowly, like a man tired of waiting, because watching you; ruined, furious, crying and still managing to burn like a goddamn wildfire — it made something unravel inside him. Something unholy. Something that clawed its way up from beneath all the manners and legacy and careful obedience.

You, with your defiance. You, with your trembling hands and splintering voice. You, who didn’t even look his way.

You felt too much. You burned too brightly. You cracked in places he didn’t understand. You cried like it meant something. You fought like the world still owed you something soft.

A single, smooth motion and before you could ask what he was doing, before you could read the shift in his expression, he was standing over you. Looking down at you like you were a problem he couldn’t solve, like you were noise in his carefully constructed world of silence.

His jaw twitched. “I don’t like messy things,”

You opened your mouth, to apologize, to yell, to tell him to leave but your voice didn’t come.

Instead, he crouched down. Slowly. His hand reached out, not toward your face, but beside it, bracing against the wall near your shoulder, boxing you in. His other hand hovered near your chin, pausing midair. A breath. A hesitation. Something nearly human.

He kissed you.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of your robes. Your chest ached from the sobs you hadn’t finished, from the weight of the day, from the way his mouth pressed against yours like it was the only language he knew.

It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry.

He tasted like someone who hadn’t felt anything in years and hated that you made him want to. His hand moved to your jaw, holding it, not harsh but unrelenting.

His breath was unsteady when he pulled back. So was yours.

Your tear-slick lashes fluttered as you stared at him, chest rising and falling with everything you hadn’t said, everything you didn’t understand.

Kai didn’t blink. You didn't too.

You weren’t sure who looked more shaken.

“Stop crying,” he said. “It ruins your face.”

It was past curfew when the door creaked open.

A soft, deliberate sound, barely loud enough to disturb the quiet hum of sleeping breaths in the girls' dorm. The enchanted lanterns were low, casting dull golden shadows across the hardwood floor.

You were curled on your side, blanket kicked off, facing the wall like it might protect you from the dreams that had been growing more vivid lately — filled with brown eyes, the weight of a stare, the press of a mouth that never should have touched yours.

It has been a week since he kissed you, and all he did now was consume you.

You heard a slow footstep across the floorboards that didn’t belong. You sat up in an instant. Your hand instinctively curled, breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Kai stood there leaning just inside the doorway like he owned the place. His eyes flicked over the room, over the slumbering forms of your roommates, and then back to you.

You were too stunned to speak. He shut the door behind him with a careful click.

“You can’t be here,” you whispered.

“Then tell me to leave.” He said it like he already knew you wouldn’t.

He didn’t move toward you. “I won’t skulk around and pretend I don’t know what I want.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how your heart was hammering. Of the ache in your hands from clenching them too tight under the blanket. Of the way you hadn’t breathed properly in hours.

His voice lowered. “I wanted to see you.”

You looked at him then. Really looked. His hair was messy from wind or sleep, his collar half-open. His expression, unreadable as ever, but void of any smug.

His look scared you more than any smirk ever had.

You were walking to your next class, trying to keep your head down, your thoughts together, your breathing even.

Kai walked beside you. Beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, step for step, like he belonged there and he wasn’t hiding it, either. He was adamant in the way he moved.

You rounded the corner and saw them.

Jay was seated on the ledge just outside the main stairwell, one arm slung lazily around Chae-won’s waist as she perched in his lap. They looked like a painting, like every pureblood fantasy the school worshiped. Perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect detachment. Chae-won was smiling; a perfect, cold little curve of her mouth that never quite reached her eyes while Jay just stared.

He saw you before you saw him. His gaze locked with yours, cold and pointed, like you’d wronged him. As if he were the victim. Chae-won didn’t even glance your way, but she leaned in just enough to whisper something in his ear, and though he didn’t smile, something in his jaw flexed. His hand tightened on her hip and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

Your vision went blurry. Your throat tightened. The corridor felt too bright, too narrow, the sounds too loud, too far away. Your breath stuttered; shallow, clipped, your heart racing like you’d been running.

Kai's gaze move from your face to your hands, where they clenched and twitched at your sides. You tried to blink it all away, tried to keep walking like nothing was happening, but your body had betrayed you.

“Has this happened before?” His voice came low.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your limbs felt heavy and useless, and the corridor seemed to stretch further with every step. You were floating and falling all at once. You barely noticed when his hand reached for you, until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist — not tightly, not to restrain, but to feel.

He pressed his thumb lightly over the spot just above your pulse. He didn’t need words to know. The panic was there, thundering under your skin, alive and frantic and loud enough to silence everything else. His brow furrowed. “You’re panicking.”

The words landed heavy, simple and precise. You flinched like he’d struck a nerve, tried to pull your arm back, but he didn’t let go.

“You don’t get to worry about me,” you snapped, voice sharp and broken at the edges, as if saying it out loud could make it true.

Kai tilted his head, expression unreadable. He didn’t react to your words. He didn’t need to. He just looked at you like you were the one thing in this corridor that mattered. And then he said, calm and quiet, “Continue walking with me.”

It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even a request and you hated that your legs obeyed before your mind could fight it. Hated that some fragile part of you wanted to keep walking, if only he stayed beside you.

You closed your eyes for half a second, just enough for the tears to sting. You wouldn’t let them fall, not here, not with them still behind you but your chest ached, and the shame pressed hot against your throat.

His hand found yours again.

His fingers slipped through yours like it was instinct, and then he held on careful, steady, like he was holding something breakable. You kept walking. One step after the other.

He walked with you ike the entire castle wasn’t watching, but even if they were, he didn’t let go.

“So, you’re Kai’s girlfriend?”

You looked up from the ancient, half-crumbling book in your hand and blinked at the girl now standing beside you in the dim library aisle. She was dressed in green and silver and wore the kind of smile that had probably gotten her everything she ever wanted.

“Pretty,” she added, tilting her head slightly, eyes raking over you not with curiosity.

“I’m not,” you replied evenly, turning back to the shelf, hoping she’d take the hint but her presence didn’t waver. You could feel her shadow shift with yours. She followed as you stepped further down the aisle, her footsteps light but intentional.

“I’m Yunjin, by the way,” she said. Her voice had that lilting quality warm, but not soft. “I always see him around you. I mean, everyone’s noticed. It’s kind of hard to miss, the whole... obsession he has with you.”

Your fingers paused mid-reach. Obsession?

“And I guess,” she continued casually, “that must be the reason he stopped seeing me.”

“…What?” The word left your mouth before you could hold it in, too stunned to coat it in disinterest.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She gave a light, musical laugh. “It wasn’t serious. Kai doesn’t do serious. He’s unwell. Emotionally, I mean. Brilliant, but broken. The type of boy you keep behind glass until he cuts you with it.” She said it like she knew. Like she’d bled.

You stared at her. Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. “But I do see something different now,” she added, “He looks at you… differently.”

You expected cruelty to follow. A sharp comment tucked behind a smile. A passive-aggressive jab meant to draw blood beneath the surface because that’s how it usually came, wasn’t it? From the people who knew how to dress poison up in perfume.

You thought of Chae-won. A girl from your own house. People from your own house who doesn't even dare to smile at you. It was strange, wasn’t it? That someone from your own house had been so much crueler than the students from the house everyone warned you about.

So much crueller than Kai. Than Yunjin.

“Why are you being kind to me?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Yunjin tilted her head like she was trying to decide whether to laugh again. Then, with a small shrug, she said, “What?”

You held her gaze, unflinching.

She exhaled through her nose, almost amused. “Oh. Yeah.” There was a flicker of something beneath her expression then something real. “I’m ambitious,” she said. “And if being ambitious makes me a bad person… then I guess I’m a Slytherin.”

You were sitting in your bed, knees tucked loosely to your chest, the blankets crumpled around you like a forgotten thought. The castle was quieter than usual. Music pulsed faintly from somewhere down the hall. There was a party for your batch tonight; a celebration, one you were meant to attend, smile through, pretend for.

Instead, you were here. Alone.

You were counting the minutes.

The door opened without urgency, a soft sound not trying to sneak, not trying to impress. You didn’t turn your head. You didn’t need to. You already knew who it was.

Kai stood in the doorway like the rest of the room didn’t matter. His eyes swept across the space, landed on you, on your still form in the sheets, on the way your gaze had already been waiting for him.

“You knew I would come,” he said.

“Yes,”

He strode toward you with his usual measured grace, never rushed, never nervous and you moved slightly on the bed. “You never told me anything about you,” you said, and your voice didn’t accuse, “You’re always around. You help me. You... show up but you never talk.”

Kai looked at you, and there was something different in his eyes tonight. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

You didn’t blink. “You.”

There was a long pause.

Long enough that you thought he wouldn’t answer. Long enough to feel the ache of expectation rise in your chest, but then Kai huffed, soft through his nose, and there was a shape to it that almost — almost — sounded like a laugh. Not the full thing, but the ghost of it.

You wondered, not for the first time, what he sounded like when he really laughed.

Your eyes flicked to the empty space beside you, and you shifted further inward on the bed, a small movement, but clear.

He caught it.

He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his thighs, the weight of him sinking into the mattress beside you. His posture was still too careful, still too contained, but he was there.

“I don’t talk about myself,” he said suddenly.

You didn’t answer. You knew better than to fill silence that didn’t ask to be filled. Kai exhaled softly, the sound shallow. Measured. Then he looked up, his eyes distant but focused on you, like he was reading from a page only he could see. “I was raised to be an heir. Not a person.”

You didn’t flinch. He noticed that. It made him keep going.

“My father were strict. He didn’t believe in wasting time on things like comfort, or affection. If I cried, he said it was noise. If I asked questions, he told me to read faster. If I smiled too easily, he asked if I was bored, or foolish.” He paused. Not for effect. To breathe.

“He had this saying. You were not born to be loved. You were born to lead. And I repeated it to myself every morning. For years. Until it didn’t sound like cruelty anymore.” he shakes his head, “When I was five, I learned how to duel with a real wand. When I was seven, he started leaving me alone in the manor for days. Said it would teach me independence. I didn’t speak to anyone for weeks.”

His voice didn’t shake. Not once. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t even sound sad. He sounded like someone explaining the weather. Like grief was just another season he’d already lived through.

“I don’t know how to talk about feelings,” he admitted. “I know how to talk around them. How to look someone in the eye and not let them touch a single part of me.”

He looked at you again. “But then I saw you.” The words weren’t loud. They weren’t dramatic. “I didn’t mean to care. I don’t know how to. But I do. I hear your voice in my head even when I try to ignore it. I look for you when you’re not around.”

“And when you’re upset, I want to fix it.” His hands unclasped slowly, then gripped the edge of the bed. “I want to fix it because it’s you.”

You moved closer. He didn’t stop you. He just looked at you like you were the first warmth in a life made of glass and granite and rules. “I hate how much I feel now,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to go back.”

His words made you reach out the back of his neck and pull him to you. You hugged him and you let out a shaky breath. "I'm here. I'm here Kai."

Two strong arms snaked around your waist as soon as you said those words, and Kai's lips were against your nape. He left trails of kisses on your neck up to the back of your ears, his body pressed on yours. "Good."

He presses a few more soft kisses to the back of your head, then his voice drops to a whisper against your ear. “Can I touch you?” Your breath hitches, but you nod. His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers brushing lightly across your stomach. “Can I touch you here?” he asks, voice gentle.

You nod again, barely able to get the word out. “Yeah.”

His hand travels higher, fingertips gliding up until they meet the bare curve of your chest. He pauses, just long enough to make your heart race. His lips are at your neck now, breath hot. “Here too?”

When he feels you nod, his hand moves with more purpose, fingertips gliding over the curve of your breast. He cups you fully, palm warm, thumb brushing the softness, squeezing just enough to make you arch subtly into his touch. He teases, exploring everywhere except where you need him most, drawing out the ache with every careful touch. When his fingers finally graze your nipple, a quiet moan slips from your lips before you can stop it. He pauses, his breath brushing against your neck. “You can tell me to stop anytime.”

Then he pulls his hand away from under your shirt, and the sudden absence makes you whine, your body instinctively chasing after his warmth. Before you can speak, he cups your face gently, tilting your head until your eyes meet. It’s dark but he's close, so close — you can make out the shape of his face, the softness in his gaze.

He leans in, brushing a featherlight kiss over your lips. Then another. You smile softly, breath mingling, and when your lips part, he takes it as invitation. This time the kiss is deep — hungry. His mouth moves against yours with desperation, like he’s been craving your taste for far too long. His hand finds your waist, tugging you closer, bodies aligning in all the right ways as the heat between you builds.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice barely there, lost in the way his lips trail along your neck, warm and wet. “Please.”

He pauses just enough to meet your gaze, then his hand slips between your thighs, cupping you through the fabric. The pressure makes your hips jerk, breath hitching.

“Here?” he murmurs, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You want me here?”

It’s too much, and not enough. Heat pools low in your belly, a need that feels raw and overwhelming. You nod, biting your lip, your voice trembling. “Yes. There. Please.”

He groans, low and deep, and that’s when clothes start disappearing—slowly, messily. Every layer peeled off is interrupted by his mouth; on your lips, your jaw, your collarbones. His hands, greedy and gentle all at once, explore you like he’s memorizing every inch. The room is filled with nothing but breath, the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional hitch of a moan.

When he finally sinks lower, eyes locked on yours as his lips trace a burning path down your body, you don’t stop him.

“Kai…” You moaned as you clenched your fist on his dark locks. His tongue was doing to your buds as his fingers part your wet folds. You don't know what it is, but it makes your legs quivered as his tongue lapped at your entrance.

Kai grunts as he hears your soft moans, sucking on your clit to hear more. Your taste in his mouth got him drunk as he shook his head from side to side, making your moans go higher as you moved your hips to grind your wetness on his tongue. "Hmm?"

He pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb, rubbing her wet clit as he kissed and sucked your inner thighs. Your eyes rolled back as your chest rose up and down, glistening with sweat.

You're fucking beautiful. Kai thought as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. The sight of your blushing cheeks, eyes asking for more with your lips between your teeth made Kai slightly rut his hips on the bed.

"Do you know how long have I imagined this?" He pumped a finger inside your pussy, curling it to hit your spot as he put his mouth back to work again, flattening his tongue over your swollen pearl before flicking it with the tip. You cried out in pleasure, throwing your head back.

“I couldn't help myself but think of you.” He begged as he doubled the finger inside your soaking cunt, making you cry out in pleasure as your hands grabbed the pillow under your head.

“I can't resist having all of you.” He kissed your clit, making you whimper at the brief contact. He took off his shirt and pants before pulling you by your arm, sitting you on his lap as he took off your blouse and bra. He kissed around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

He moved your position to grind on his bulge, letting out quiet moans as he desperately kissed you. He stopped your hips as he moved to your other nipple, lightly biting it while staring at your glossy eyes, making your breath hitch. He hummed as he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, nibbling on it. He laid your back down, admiring your body as you panted. Your eyes are glistening, and so is your cunt. He groaned at the sight, pushing his hair back and taking his erected cock out of its confinement. He pumped it a few times before you sat up and took it into your hand.

“Let me make you feel good.” Kai stopped your hand, giving a kiss on your forehead. “Fuck.” He murmured as he moved to your lips, sucking on them, making you whimper as you laid back down again.

“Kai, please…” You cried when Kai started to rub his shaft on your slit. Every time his head hits your bud, you let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide as you look up at him.

Kai took his time, grunting before pushing the tip inside. You gasped, grabbing the sheets under, feeling the pain as his length invade you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him let out low growls. You felt tears in your eyes as you watched half of his length disappear inside you. Kai took your hand, intertwining your fingers. He kissed your tears.

“Am I hurting you?” Kai shushed when you hissed, feeling a hint of pain as he filled you. His other hand began rubbing circles on your clit to ease the burn from the stretch.

"No,"

Kai kissed your hand when he was entirely in, giving you time to adjust. You look gorgeous underneath him. Legs wide open,mouth slightly parted, and body glistening under the dim lights of his room.

Kai started moving slowly when you nod your head, until your whimpers turned into moans. His name echoed in whispers, as you clawed on the skin of his back, leaving red marks. He was cradling your head, and his lips pressed on your ear. He was whispering the sweetest things to you.

“The things you do to me,” Kai whispers, kissing your ear lobes. "I can't even look at anyone else now."

“Yes, yes, Kai, please…” You begged as his hips started to thrust harder into you.

“Fuck.” He groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. He could tell that you were both close. Your walls spasmed around him, and his thrust started to stutter.

“Look at me.” He stared into your eyes, feeling your orgasm take over your body. His mouth reaches for your sweet lips, your toes curling as your legs wrap around his waist. Kai thrustied into you a few more times before pulling out to spill his thick load on your thighs.

It was slow, and it was soft, the way he helped you clean up. No magic. Just his hands and yours, sleeves rolled up, fingers brushing as you folded the same blanket twice just to have an excuse to linger near each other. The silence between you wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t awkward. It was full.

Your scent clung to the air; a little floral, a little tangy, something warm and alive, like late spring clinging to skin. It was in the sheets, in the corners of the room, in him. He’d never been the type to notice things like that, but here he was, trying to memorize how the air felt with you in it.

You were fussing with the pillows now, distracted, focused on symmetry but he was just watching you.

“I’m going to work every day,” His voice was low, almost rough with restraint. “I’ll work every fucking day, just to follow you.”

You feel your eyes burn.

“I’ll learn how to move the way you do. I’ll learn how to speak the way you understand. I’ll change the way I live if that’s what it takes. Every single day, I’ll do it, just to fit you.”

“Why?” you asked, voice almost a whisper. “Why would you change for me?”

Kai’s eyes found yours. “Because you made me want to,”

It's the truest thing he’d ever said in his life.

taglist: @heesmiles , @lovingbeomgyudayone , @virtaideen , @hyukascampfire , @fancypeacepersona , @bamgeutori , @lilbrorufr , @beomieeeeeeeeeeees , @xylatox , @yunverie , @imlonelydontsendhelp , @moagyuu , @immelissaaa , @readinmidnight , @pagelets , @wonderstrucktae , @boba-beom , @seodami , @izzyy-stuff , @gyudollies , @i-am-not-dal , @page-isa , @tyunarisu , @s0urcherry , @lostgirlysstuff , @tinycatharsis , @randomheyl @txtsoobean , @bweargyuu ,

@reep04 , @lovesickchoi , @xylatox , @soobinieswife , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @saejinniestar , @bunniwords , @starrynightgyu , @cardiaccannibalism , @stormy1408 , @fancypeacepersona ,, @angelz-howl , @gyudollies , @i-am-not-dal , @yeonjunnnielover , @yystarz , @boba-beom , @bbyzzn , @darkethes , @taehyunluvrs , @prettypeachprincesz , @beomgyusluver , @thetxtdevil , @demidelulu , @bamgeutori , @soobundle1009 , @luumiinaa , @akitfffr , @babigriin , @seokqt , @soohashits , @i4tzy , @pengningie , @prettypeachprincesz , @cjrnctzenforlife , @taehyunluvrs @lostgirlysstuff , @beomgyusluver @i-am-not-dal , @bakugosbottombitch , @sanscupid , @idknunsadly , @mixxie2203

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 298

Adjective: Abnormal

Noun: Muscle

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Abnormal: deviating from what is normal or usual, typically in a way that is undesirable or worrying

Muscle: a band or bundle of fibrous tissue in a human or animal body that has the ability to contract, producing movement in or maintaining the position of parts of the body; a band or bundle of tissue when well developed or prominently visible under the skin; physical power, or strength developed; (informal) a person or people exhibiting physical power or strength; power or influence, especially in a commercial or political context

[xylatox]

how to hex a heart || kth

Taehyun fic, taehyun fic, taehyun fic!! Hehe super duper excited to read this because taehyun <3 and its rain’s writing :) 

I still no nothing about hogwarts (sue me) but I will enjoy and love it anyways.

Already love that Sunoo and mc are friends :) He is the cutest and sassiest boy ever

“Obviously it was an accident,” Taehyun cut in, voice cold and clipped, The potion dripped from his vest in sluggish streaks, soaking into the ravenclaw blue. “Next time, try looking where you're going instead of skipping around like some deranged fairy” 

I have no reason to be giggle but I cant like I love it when Tyun is so blunt and straight to the point (and maybe a little mean :3) ahh

Also her personality really is the sweetest, God bless her soul I want to protect her. I also love though that she has a bite to her

“Besides, a little Knotgrass never hurt anyone. Except maybe his ego.”

Makes me super happy to see that despite her cheeriness she’s able to bite back ugh

I fear I was Taehyun on the inside in uni😭😭BUT I SWEAR I HAD VALID REASON </3

Their dynamic is so cute despite all the tension, ugh I love them so much

“That potion was for me, actually,” he snapped. “A concentration tonic. For my study schedule. Unlike you, I don’t need to flirt my way through classes.” 

I take it back I cant be that mean😭😭😭 I just say slightly mean words when things were common sense </3

I think Taehyun’s jealously is honestly, kind of cute </3 Maybe I am just down bad (I really am) but I understand his sentiments and hers too. I much prefer having a colder demeanour opposed to the cherriness of mc but her personality isnt a problem because it isnt forced like a lot of people and shes genuinely just the sweetest thing ever

But here, under the stars, he looked… tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix.

Ah I love this :( Like, theres something so difficult about being tired that no matter how much sleep you get youre always exhausted. Its like your brain has no where else to release the energy so you just, try to fix it with sleep but it never works and just makes you more tired instead </3

Also its sososo cute she give him her Chocolate Frog which is basically her pick me up

“I hate the way you lie.” A pause. A breath.

This line took me back to Love The Way You Lie by Eminem and Rihanna and omg I feel nostalgic

“I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your mouth suddenly like cotton. 

SCREAMING AND THE KISS???? Rain ugh, Im so obsessed with  your words.

It was fire meeting fire, snow melting on burning skin. His mouth met yours with all the tension of months pressed into a single, trembling heartbeat. He kissed you like he was trying to erase every insult, every rivalry, every bitter word. You kissed him like you’d been waiting for him to stop running.

Rain I swear I will love your words till the day I die

Also not Taehyun acting like nothing happened :( Thats too mean. I know hes pushing her away (for some good reason?) but ugh it hurts no :( 

The extent of his meanness breaks me so much oh my god. I feel embarrassed hello?? Like she genuinely tries so hard despite everything and hes still so cold and ugh her reaction breaks him too when he realized he went too far

“You’re always happy. You shine so damn much it hurts. And I... I’ve spent my whole life trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone expects.

I loved this line. Theres something about trying to live up to someone else’s expectation that literally just makes things so much harder and being cold just somehow makes that easier, but mc has it so naturally so I get where Taehyun comes from. I also understand mc, and my heart just goes to her because of how sweet she is

The letter in the epilogue is so sweet oh my god😭😭 Tyun is such a tsundere and Im obsessed with it.

And somewhere between the heavens and the earth, a boy who built walls and a girl who tore them down find something far sweeter than victory. Not perfection. But something better. Home.

I cant believe Im tearing up. This was so beautiful Rain :( I genuinely love them so much. They mean so much to me, I love that mc was Taehyun’s person who tore down his walls and ugh :( wishing everyone to find this.

HOW TO HEX A HEART k.th

೨౿ ⠀  ׅ ⠀   ̇  7.5K ⸝⸝ . ‌ ׅ ⸺ word count.

pairing s𝜗𝜚 ravenclaw ! taehyun ៹ hufflepuff ! reader ᧁ; angst ˒ fantasy ˒ hogwarts au

warnings ���₊ ⋆ angst hogwarts au grumpy x sunshine academic rivals to lovers yearning characters are aged up set in a college like hogwarts setting ft sunoo (enhypen)

in which୨୧ ㅤִ Love was sacred, love was rare, love was fleeting...but Taehyun wanted none of it. Instead searching for a fullfilling life in the pages of texts books and viles filled with potions, your cheery personality and natural smarts did little for his ego and too much damage to his high standings in all of Hogwarts academics. He must put a stop to it...if he wished to stay on top.

★ !rain's mic is on ⋆ ͘ . chat I'm so excited!! This is apart of a collab I'm doing with my fellow writers and friends: the nine and three quarters collab. I hope ya'll enjoy. guys I actually hate how rushed this is. I'm sorry!! i wrote it ages ago for our event and it’s been siting in the drafts for a while now, i can honestly say….its not even nearly close to my best work. i wish it was better because taehyun deserve better! i’ll be writing my coraline fic soon as a redemption arc for tae, i swear by it!

The dungeon was alive with a symphony of simmering cauldrons and chattering students, the air thick with the sharp tang of fluxweed and the earthy musk of powdered root of asphodel. Candles floated above the stone tables, flickering with a lazy indifference, casting golden halos across glass vials and worn parchment. You sat hunched over your cauldron, stirring clockwise; then counterclockwise, exactly as the textbook instructed, though you liked to think you added a little flair to your technique. Beside you, Sunoo leaned over to check your progress, his face drawn in a mix of admiration and mild panic. 

“I swear mine’s more brown than bronze,” he whispered, frowning at his own mixture. 

“It’s because you’re overthinking it again,” you giggled, nudging him gently. “You have to let the potion speak to you. Feel the ingredients. Make a little magic of your own, y’know?” He rolled his eyes but smiled, accustomed to your blend of mysticism and mischief. You were sunshine in a bottle, golden, glowing, maybe a little overwhelming on days like this, but endlessly kind, brimming with a passion for the craft that made even the most monotonous ingredients feel like keys to a hidden kingdom. You adored Potions. It was alchemy and artistry, mystery and discipline, all bubbling into something beautiful. 

“Alright, ingredients table, now!” barked Professor Oakenhart from the front of the class, his robes flaring dramatically as he paced. “Step carefully. If you spill the unicorn hair again, Nott, I will make you polish the cauldrons with your tears.” You perked up immediately, hand shooting into the air before anyone else could even blink. “I’ll go!” you chimed, hopping up from your stool and bouncing toward the table with a spring in your step.

But in your unbridled enthusiasm, you didn’t see him. Kang Taehyun. Towering. Silent. Cold as the dungeons themselves and twice as sharp. He was the kind of student who didn’t just read the textbook — he memorized the footnotes, corrected the professor’s misquotes, and brewed potions with the precision of a seasoned apothecary. And he hated you. Not in the way someone hates a rainstorm or a bad meal; no, he hated you with purpose. Your effortless charm, your laughter echoing across the corridors, the way professors smiled just a little too brightly when you answered questions correctly. Worst of all, you matched him. In test scores, potion grades, practicals. You were sunshine to his storm cloud. And it infuriated him. 

So when you turned and smacked straight into his chest, your half-filled vial of brewed Knotgrass solution flying from your hand and splattering all across the front of his pristine uniform, it was more than an accident. It was an act of war. “Oh—oh my god—I didn’t see you—! I’m so sorry!” you gasped, hands fluttering uselessly in the air, unsure whether to mop it up or vanish into the floor. “It was an accident, really, I didn’t—” 

“Obviously it was an accident,” Taehyun cut in, voice cold and clipped, The potion dripped from his vest in sluggish streaks, soaking into the ravenclaw blue. “Next time, try looking where you're going instead of skipping around like some deranged fairy” You blinked, momentarily stunned by the venom in his tone.

“I—” But he was already striding off toward Professor Oakenhart, presumably to report the offense and extract his revenge in the form of docked house points or an extra essay. The silence he left in his wake felt oddly loud, like someone had extinguished the warmth in the room. You returned to your seat with what you hoped was dignity, though your cheeks burned and your heart thudded a little too loudly in your chest. Sunoo was watching you, eyes wide.

“That was brutal,” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You forced a bright smile, even though the potion fumes still clung to your nose and your pride felt a bit bruised. “Just peachy!” you chirped, plopping back onto your stool and picking up your ladle. “Besides, a little Knotgrass never hurt anyone. Except maybe his ego.”

Sunoo snorted into his sleeve. Somewhere behind you, you swore you could feel Taehyun’s glare like a knife to your spine. 

Professor Oakenhart clapped his hands for silence, the crystalline ting-ting-ting of his silver rings against his wand echoing through the vaulted stone. Bubbling cauldrons fell obediently to a hush, the once-lively chatter collapsing into a hush so complete you could hear the delicate pop of fluxweed bladders bursting in the brew. Oakenhart let the hush linger, he enjoyed suspense the way a sphinx savors riddles; before letting his voice pour down like cold mountain water. 

“Next year’s class prefect,” he announced, letting the words hang, “will be chosen in three weeks’ time. The badge will go”, his dark eyes skimmed the room, “to the student who best embodies the virtues that keep this ancient castle alive: scholarly excellence, unwavering helpfulness, and the kind of leadership that does not require howling at those beneath you.” His gaze flicked, ever so briefly, toward the Ravenclaw benches, then to you in your Hufflepuff yellow, where you sat up straighter on reflex. A hush of anticipation prickled through the air, sparking like powdered moonstone hitting hot embers. 

It took no more than a heartbeat for both your hands and Taehyun’s to shoot skyward, mirror images of ambition in two very different skins. Your arm rose with sunshine optimism, sleeve fluttering like a pennant above a castle tower; Taehyun’s lifted with predatory precision, elbow locked, fingers slicing the air as if claiming rightful territory. Two comets on intersecting orbits. “Questions?” Oakenhart invited, his thin smile hinting that questions were only respectable if they tasted of genuine curiosity and not vanity.

Taehyun noticed you first, noticed the way your fingertips wiggled for attention as though determined to catch falling starlight, and a quiet scuff of disapproval hissed past his teeth. “Little miss perfect,” he muttered under his breath, the phrase delivered like a curse brewed from nettle and spite. But the professor’s nod landed on you, not him. You stood, straightening your robes with a soft brush of palms, and the dungeon’s torchlight caught the hopeful glimmer in your eyes. “Professor,” you began, voice warm as summer rain, “will academic collaboration — tutoring students outside one’s own house, for example; count toward the leadership criterion, or is it measured strictly by individual achievement?” The question sailed across the room, thoughtful and earnest, carrying the faint scent of cinnamon from the potion still clinging to your cuffs. 

Taehyun’s scoff was immediate, a low, velvety sound of contempt. “It’s hardly rocket science,” he drawled, loud enough for the nearest cauldrons to tremble. “Prefects inspire excellence, they don’t spoon-feed it. Obviously individual performance weighs heaviest.” His sarcasm slithered through the air like a smoky serpent, confident that everyone would see the answer as plain as daylight. 

Instead of bristling, you turned to him with the brightness of a heliotrope bending toward dawn. You dipped your head, just a fraction and let a beatific smile unfurl, soft and sincere. “Thank you, Taehyun,” you replied, voice edged with honeyed cordiality. “But I find that shining your light helps others see where they’re going, and what’s leadership if not lighting the path?” Your gentle retort glimmered with the audacity of grace, and the dungeon seemed to flicker brighter for a heartbeat. The sight of your tilted head and unconquerable optimism struck Taehyun like a spell gone awry. A low, involuntary snarl rasped from his throat, a feral sound quickly smothered behind a pursed line of lips, but not before you caught it, not before half the class saw the flash of winter in his eyes. The tension between you twanged like a harp string wound too tight: one pluck away from music, one tug away from breaking.  

Professor Oakenhart cleared his throat, once, sharply, expelling the storm before it could fully gather. “An astute question, Miss, Yes, mentorship and cross-house assistance will be tallied.” He inclined his head toward you with a hint of approval, then pivoted to Taehyun. “Mr. Kang, if you have a different inquiry, do raise your hand properly rather than providing commentary mid-air.” A ripple of muted laughter swept the benches, but your gaze held steady on Taehyun’s. Where his irises turned to flint, yours softened to amber, and in that quiet, smoldering stalemate something unspoken sparked, an ember that might turn to wildfire or to warmth, given time and care. For now, though, it merely glowed, pulsing in the shadowed dungeon like a promise you both refused to name. 

Sunoo nudged your elbow the moment you sat, wide-eyed and whispering, “I think you just poked a Hungarian Horntail.” You responded with an easy grin, quill poised to continue your notes. “Better a Horntail awake,” you murmured, “than a dragon who never learns how bright fire can be.” Across the aisle, Taehyun pressed a palm flat to the cool desk, steadying himself against the tremor of unfamiliar emotion. His quill scratched furious strokes into his parchment; ink as dark as midnight vows, but beneath that practiced scowl, a new question brewed in secret: How does one extinguish sunshine…without first stepping into its light? 

After the classroom became a quiet hush, everyone working silently alongside their partners, Professor Oakenheart instructs Taehyun and yourself to rise and follow him to his desk. “You will both report to the potion storeroom tonight. Seven o’clock. No excuses. And no magic.” He says with a sigh. “I cannot have students arguing in class, it’s unsavory.” 

“Yes, Mr. Oakenheart.” You say with the downward tilt of your head. Taehyun didn’t say a word. His robes still glistened from your accidental splash, the potion drying in uneven patches across his sleeve. He glanced at you once, briefly, with all the warmth of a midwinter frost, then turned away. 

You walk back to your seat next to Sunoo solemnly, sitting down next to him silently. Sunoo whispered, “You’re cursed,” under his breath as you sat back down. You grinned and whispered back, “Just peachy.” 

–

Seven o’clock arrived like a tolling bell, and the potion storeroom, usually locked, usually silent, opened with a low groan as Professor Oakenhart wordlessly ushered you both inside. The room was narrow and cluttered, lit by a handful of enchanted lanterns that hovered in lazy loops, casting golden light onto rows of old wooden shelves. Vials of powdered roots and dried wings lined the walls, their labels yellowed and curling at the edges. The air was rich with the scent of earth and time; rosehips, wolfsbane, peppermint, and mildew. “You’ll sort and organize all of this,” the professor said, gesturing to a chaotic pile of unbottled ingredients and stained glassware stacked across the center table. “Without the use of wands. You leave when it’s done.” 

Then he left, the heavy door clicking shut behind him with an ominous finality. You turned to Taehyun with a sheepish smile. “Well… could be worse.”

Taehyun didn’t even glance at you. “Could be over faster if you stopped talking.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, grabbing a jar of shriveled billywig stingers. “You act like I spilled that potion on purpose.”

“You didn’t not spill it,” he muttered, picking through a box of dried dittany leaves with the care of a jeweler inspecting glass. “You’re always fluttering around like a butterfly with no sense of direction. No wonder you can’t stay upright.” You rolled your eyes and tossed your hair back defiantly. “You’re so dramatic. One splash of Dreamless Sleep on your sleeve and you act like I’ve ruined your career.”

“That potion was for me, actually,” he snapped. “A concentration tonic. For my study schedule. Unlike you, I don’t need to flirt my way through classes.” The words hit like a slap; sharp, misplaced, and far too personal. 

You blinked. “I wasn’t flirting, Taehyun.” He didn’t reply. Just turned, his fingers tight around the neck of a decanter filled with bluebell essence. The silence stretched long and brittle. You turned back to the shelves, trying to focus on alphabetizing vials instead of the heat rising to your cheeks. You hated that he could twist your sunshine into something shallow. You hated that it hurt a little, even if you knew better. It was when you were climbing a rickety step stool to reach a jar of flobberworm mucus that it happened, your foot caught on a crooked rung, and the world tilted sharply. You yelped, arms flailing for balance, but gravity was faster. 

And Taehyun; curse him, was there. He caught you by the waist in a startled breath, your chest nearly colliding with his, both of you frozen in a strange, suspended heartbeat. For one unbearable second, the air was different. He smelled like cloves and parchment and the faint memory of apples. His hands were warm through the fabric of your robes. Your face was tilted up to his, and his jaw tightened like he was holding back a thought that tasted too much like truth. Then he let go. 

You stumbled back with a startled gasp, catching yourself against a shelf just in time to stop an entire row of beetle eyes from toppling to the floor. “You—!” you started.

“I’m not your babysitter,” he snapped, brushing his hands down his robes like your presence had scorched him. “You’re so dramatic,” you said again, this time with venom. “One second you’re catching me, the next you act like I’ve hexed you.”

“And you’re unbearable,” he bit out, his voice low and dangerous. “Always smiling, always talking, always pretending the world is sugar and stars. It’s exhausting.” You stared at him, chest heaving, the light from the lanterns catching the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the irritated furrow in his brow. But underneath all that anger; buried like a secret, was something else.

You exhaled slowly. “Maybe it’s not pretend.” Taehyun said nothing. Just turned back to his work, jaw clenched, knuckles white where they gripped a jar of valerian root. 

You returned to the pile of unsorted ingredients with a huff, brushing the dust from your skirt and refusing to meet his eyes. The silence between you wasn’t peaceful, it was brittle, strained, the kind of silence that creaked like a staircase in an old manor, aching to be broken. Taehyun was the one who cracked first. “Maybe if you focused half as much on your work as you do on being liked, you wouldn’t be in detention.”

You turned sharply, a vial of crushed lovage seeds in one hand. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I did. I’m just stunned you think being liked is a flaw.”

He scoffed, not looking up from the set of empty phials he was aligning by size. “Popularity isn’t the same as talent.”

“And coldness isn’t the same as intelligence,” you snapped. “Just because you glare through every lecture doesn’t make you smarter than everyone else.” He finally turned to face you, eyes flashing like lightning behind stormcloud lashes. “I’m not cold. I’m focused. There’s a difference.”

You stepped closer, your arms crossed now, potion dust glittering faintly on your sleeves like constellation flecks. “You’re so scared someone else might outshine you that you treat everyone like competition.” 

“No one has outshined me,” he replied, voice like steel. “Until you.” 

The silence that followed was a strange one. Thicker. Quieter. Like the world had taken a step back to let those words hang between you — taunting, trembling, true. You blinked. “What?”

He looked away too fast. “Forget it.”

“No, you said—” You took a step closer, your heart thudding, not from the argument, but from the accidental confession strung beneath it. “You said until me. You think I’ve outshined you?” 

“I think you’re exhausting,” he muttered, back to organizing now with unnecessary force, placing bottles like they’d offended him personally. “You breeze through everything like it’s easy. People like you. Professors praise you. And somehow, despite all your little smiles and your sunshine-and-daisies attitude, you’re still top of the class.” You stared at him, stunned. “You think I haven’t worked for this?”

“I think you’ve never needed to work as hard,” he hissed, not cruel but bitter, like it was a wound he’d carried for too long. “You show up and everyone adores you. I have to fight for everything.”

Your voice softened. “That’s not my fault, Taehyun.” He paused, a jar of dried mint frozen in his hand.

“No,” he said, after a breath. “It’s not. But it still feels like I’m running a race you get to skip the hurdles for.” You didn’t know what to say to that. The space between you wasn’t so wide now. Just one potion-stained table and a pile of unsaid things.

“I don’t try to make you feel that way,” you said, quieter now. “I just… I like being here. I like learning. I like this world. It’s not about beating you.” Taehyun exhaled, slowly. “It’s always been about beating me.” You looked at him then; really looked. The precision of his posture. The tension in his shoulders. The fury not just with you, but with himself. With his need to win. And buried beneath that, the fear of what it might mean to lose to someone like you.

“Maybe,” you said gently, “it doesn’t have to be a race.” He looked up, and for the first time, he didn’t seem angry. Just tired. And quietly, painfully aware of you in a way that went far deeper than rivalry ever could. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, but his voice had lost its edge.

You tilted your head and smiled; not mockingly, but softly. “Maybe I would.” He didn’t smile back.

–

The sky was ink-blue, bruised with stars. The Astronomy Tower stood quiet, wind whispering through the slits in the stone as if the castle itself was holding its breath. The hour was late enough that most students had turned in, their dormitories dim with drowsy candlelight and dreams. But you couldn’t sleep. Something in the air tonight felt unsettled. Heavy. Like the prelude to a storm, but not one outside. 

A strange instinct tugged at you; soft and insistent. So you wandered, slippers padding across stone, drawn not by sound but by silence. You found him there. Taehyun. Perched on the low ledge of the Astronomy Tower with his knees pulled up and his arms resting on them, his robes dark against the greystone, face upturned toward a sky he didn’t seem to be seeing. There was something wrong in the stillness of him.

He was always sharp in class, always stiff with pride, always holding himself like a blade; ready to cut, ready to be cut. But here, under the stars, he looked… tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix. The kind that came from being measured too often. From being whittled down into something small and perfect and hollow. You approached gently, your footsteps careful. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you at all. Just kept his gaze fixed forward, eyes unreadable, expression carved from stone.

But you saw the parchment clutched in one hand, wrinkled and shaking slightly in the wind. You didn’t ask what it said. You didn’t need to. The way his shoulders curled inward, the way his mouth pressed into a thin, unfeeling line; it told you enough. So you sat beside him. You didn’t speak. Didn’t press. Just opened your satchel and wordlessly held out a Chocolate Frog, your last one. You kept it for exam days and rainy Sundays, but tonight, it felt like he needed it more than you. For a second, he didn’t move. Then, without looking at you, he took it. His fingers brushed yours. Cold. Tense. But real.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease. You just sat beside him in silence, letting the stars be the only witnesses. Letting the wind pass between you like breath. Letting kindness be quiet and simple and soft. And when you left, he still hadn’t spoken. Still hadn’t looked at you. But the Chocolate Frog wrapper sat folded neatly on the ledge when you returned the next day.

The next morning in Potions, everything feels almost normal. Almost. You and Sunoo arrive late, breathless from a stairwell that decided halfway through to rotate in the wrong direction. Professor Oakenhart levels you both with a tired glare, but waves you in without comment. You settle into your seat and reach for your ingredients; belladonna, porcupine quills, armadillo bile, your fingers moving on instinct while your mind drifts elsewhere.

To the Astronomy Tower. To the letter he never spoke of. To the way he never thanked you. To the way you hadn’t needed him to. It happens so fast you barely register it. A soft pop. A hiss. The sharp crack of glass. And then, boom. Your cauldron erupts in a bloom of green smoke and sparks, a chemical chaos that splashes up in a hot rush of steam and acrid potion. You flinch, arms flying up to protect your face, heart hammering in your throat. But nothing touches you.

Because in the heartbeat before the blast, a shield spell snaps into place; silver and curved like a falling star, held firm by a voice you know too well. “Protego.” When the smoke clears, you’re blinking through tears, more from shock than anything and coughing through the haze. Your cauldron is scorched, bubbling like a wounded beast, and Sunoo is somewhere under the table muttering prayers. 

But all you can see is Taehyun. Standing across the aisle. His wand still raised. His hair mussed slightly from the force of the blast. His robes dusted with soot and powdered nettle. He says nothing. Just looks at you for one long, unreadable moment. Then lowers his wand, turns on his heel, and walks back to his seat like nothing happened. You stare after him, stunned. Because it wasn’t like him to help. It wasn’t like him to notice. But he had. And something in your chest warms like sunlight over frost. 

The Professor grumbles something about careless brewing, assigns a week’s worth of clean-up duties, and moves on. But you don’t care. You’re still staring at the back of Taehyun’s head, and the words you didn’t say last night echo louder now than ever: Maybe it doesn’t have to be a race.

– 

Snow had draped itself over the castle like a dream.

Hogwarts shimmered under winter’s enchantment, its towers crowned with frost, its courtyards glowing gold with fairy lights. Students bustled about in robes lined with velvet, their laughter rising with each breath like smoke into the star-splattered sky. Tonight wasn’t the Yule Ball, not exactly, it was something smaller, softer. A midwinter celebration organized by the Prefects and Professors: music in the Great Hall, warm drinks passed from student to student, and the magic of December clinging to every flickering candle. You arrived with Sunoo, cheeks flushed, hair kissed with snow. Laughter danced on your lips before you even crossed the threshold, Sunoo telling a joke that made your sides ache, your friends gathering around like stars drawn to your gravity. You were radiant in your winter robes, something golden in your grin. You loved nights like this. Nights full of warmth and wonder. Nights where the world felt like it belonged to you.

He was already there. Taehyun stood on the far edge of the room, near the refreshment table but untouched by it. Alone. Always alone. His Ravenclaw blue scarf hung loose around his neck, frost still clinging to the hems of his sleeves, and his expression unreadable, carved from cool stone.You didn’t notice him at first. Not really. Not until someone asked you to dance.

It was a boy from Gryffindor, tall, smiling, a little shy. He offered you his hand and you, ever the sun, said yes without hesitation. Your friends cheered. Sunoo nudged you playfully. And soon, the two of you were spinning between floating candles, the music lifting your steps, your laughter like honey and light. Taehyun noticed. He noticed the way your head tipped back when you laughed. The way your hands fit so easily into someone else’s. The way you looked, joyful, unguarded, lovely, and not at all like the girl who once gave him her last Chocolate Frog in silence.

He didn’t stay. He turned before he could think better of it, his footsteps soundless on the marble. The corridor outside the Great Hall was quiet, save for the distant hum of music and the soft hush of falling snow through an open window. He didn’t know why he left. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t have the words for it. He just knew he hated watching someone else hold your smile. So he left. And you followed. 

You found him near the foot of the grand staircase, his back to you, the golden candlelight brushing against his shoulders, setting soft fire to the edges of his silhouette. “Taehyun.”

He didn’t turn. You stepped closer. “You left early.” 

“I wasn’t enjoying myself.”

“Why not?”

A beat. Then: “You looked like you were.”

There was something sharp in the way he said it. Something jealous. Something that trembled beneath the surface, unwilling to admit what it truly was. You folded your arms. “So you were watching me.” He turned to you then, slowly. His expression unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes were thunderclouds.

“You always want people to look at you,” he said, low and quiet. “So don’t act surprised when they do.”

Your breath caught, more from the venom than the words themselves. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you always have to be seen, don’t you? Always the center of the room. Always dancing, laughing, shining — like you need everyone’s attention to survive.” You flinched. But you stood your ground. “And you push everyone away because you’re afraid they’ll see something you’re hiding.”

“Better than parading around like you have nothing to hide.”

“At least I’m not cruel about it.” You quip back, hurt. 

“Oh?” he snapped. “You think I’m cruel because I don’t fawn over your every word? Because I don’t melt under your smiles like everyone else does?”

“No,” you said, stepping closer now, your voice trembling not with fear but with fury. “I think you’re cruel because you can’t stand that someone else might be your equal.” His jaw clenched.

“And because you’re angry,” you whispered, “that I make you feel something you can’t control.” Silence. Thick, aching silence. 

“You’re insufferable,” he breathed.

“And you’re impossible.”

“I hate the way you laugh.”

“I hate the way you lie.” A pause. A breath.

“I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your mouth suddenly like cotton. 

Then, like a flicker of a flame Taehyun was kissing you. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire meeting fire, snow melting on burning skin. His mouth met yours with all the tension of months pressed into a single, trembling heartbeat. He kissed you like he was trying to erase every insult, every rivalry, every bitter word. You kissed him like you’d been waiting for him to stop running. When you pulled apart, breathless, your hands still clutched his robes. He stared at you, stunned. Like he hadn’t meant to do it. Like he wanted to do it again.

You smirked, the corner of your mouth curling just so. “Still hate me?”

His lips twitched. “More than ever.” But his voice was hoarse. And his fingers didn’t let go.

Morning broke cold and silver, the kind of pale light that softened the snow but sharpened the air. In the Great Hall, everything looked the same. Students chattered over toast and pumpkin juice, scarves half-tangled around their necks, steam curling from mugs like the remnants of dreams. The enchanted ceiling swirled with drifting snowflakes and a pale winter sky. But something was off-kilter in the space around you. Something missing You scanned the tables without thinking, eyes flickering past familiar faces. Sunoo noticed, you could feel his gaze as you forced a too-bright smile, buttered your toast with robotic precision.

“Did something happen last night?” he asked, voice soft, careful.

You shrugged, looking down at your plate. “Nothing.” But your hands trembled. And Taehyun wasn’t at his usual place near the end of the Ravenclaw table. Not that you were watching. Not that you were waiting. But still. You saw him again outside the library, later that morning. His robes were immaculate as always, scarf draped neatly over one shoulder, a book in his hand he wasn’t reading. You approached him cautiously, your heart fluttering like a sparrow trapped in your ribs. 

“Taehyun,” you said, gently, like the name itself might break if you spoke it too loud. His eyes flicked up. Cold. Unbothered. Your smile faltered. 

“Can we talk?” you asked, hands twisting in the hem of your sweater.

“No.” Just like that. Clipped. Sharp.

You blinked. “What?” 

“I said no.” Something inside you shrank, just a little. “Taehyun… what happened last night—”

“Was a mistake.” The words hit like a slap. You felt the breath leave your lungs, staggered by the sudden, cruel distance of him. “You kissed me,” you said, voice small, cracking. “You said—” 

“I got caught up in the moment.” His tone was flat, practiced. Like he’d already rehearsed these lines. Like he’d spent the whole night scrubbing every softness out of himself. “It didn’t mean anything.” The world tilted. Your lips parted, your voice caught in your throat. You could feel the sting building in your chest, behind your eyes. He didn’t look at you, wouldn’t. His gaze stayed fixed on the spines of books he wasn’t reading, as if pretending you weren’t there would erase what happened.

“I thought you—” You bit your lip, hard. Swallowed. “I thought you cared.”

“I don’t.” It was brutal, how easy he made it sound. And that was what broke you.

You turned before he could see the tears spill, before your voice could crumble entirely. You ran, not caring who saw, not caring where you were going, just needing to escape the weight of that hallway, of his voice still echoing inside you like the last note of a song gone wrong. Snow flurried around you as you burst outside, not feeling the cold through the heat in your cheeks. The castle loomed behind you, windows glowing warm with light you couldn’t bear to be near.

You collapsed beneath the shadow of a tree near the lake, the frost crunching beneath your knees, and let yourself cry. Quietly, messily. Like the sky had fallen only for you. You hated how much you’d hoped. Hated that one kiss had unraveled you. Hated that even now, even with his cruelty still ringing in your ears… You still wanted to believe he didn’t mean it.

The next morning came like a betrayal. Sunlight poured through the dormitory windows, golden and gentle, but it felt wrong against your skin. The castle still breathed with its usual rhythm, owls cooing in the distance, portraits murmuring, fireplaces crackling softly, but none of it reached you. It was as though something inside you had gone still. Quiet in a way that even your cheer couldn’t touch. You sat beside Sunoo in the Great Hall, picking at your breakfast with no real interest. Your usual glow was gone, dulled into something shadowed and quiet.

Sunoo nudged you gently with his shoulder. “You didn’t say much last night.” You didn’t meet his eyes. “There wasn’t much to say.”

He watched you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “This is about Taehyun, isn’t it?” Your fingers curled tighter around your spoon.

“We kissed, ” you whispered, barely audible. “And then he said it was a mistake.”

Sunoo’s brows lifted, and then quickly drew together in concern. “What?” 

“I thought it meant something,” you said, voice cracking. “But he shut me out. Said it didn’t mean anything. Like I was just… a moment to him. A mistake to be scrubbed out.”

Sunoo’s expression darkened. “What a bloody idiot.” You gave a weak laugh, one that didn’t reach your eyes. He reached across the table and covered your hand with his. “Look, I know you like to see the good in everyone, even in jerks who don’t deserve it, but maybe it’s time you started putting that heart of yours somewhere safer. Someone who’ll actually protect it.”

You nodded, lips pressed tight. “You’re right.” But the ache didn’t lift. Later that day, you filed into Potions class with the rest of the students, your bag slung over one shoulder. The scent of crushed herbs and simmering roots clung thick to the dungeon air. You walked with your head high, shoulders back, smile forced into place like armor. He was already seated when you walked in. Taehyun.

Sitting at his usual spot near the front, posture rigid, jaw tight. His fingers tapped soundlessly against his textbook. He didn’t look up when you entered. Didn’t so much as flinch. But you felt the chill in the room anyway, the weight of all that was unspoken crackling between you like a live wire. Still, you were you. Still sunshine, even with cracks in your light. You walked over, careful steps echoing softly, and perched on the edge of the desk beside his. “Hi, Taehyun,” you said, your voice light, as if your heart wasn’t twisting. “I was wondering if you finished the reading for today. The part about powdered asphodel, wasn’t that fascinating? I thought—”

“Can you just shut up for once?” His voice cut through the room like a blade. The entire class went still. You froze. “I’m trying to concentrate,” he said, still not looking at you. “And I don’t need your insipid, cheery commentary. Merlin knows it’s exhausting enough seeing you parade around like everyone’s personal ray of sunshine.” 

A few people snorted with laughter. Someone whispered behind their hand. You felt every eye in the room swing toward you, your face, your smile, your frozen stance. And Taehyun finally looked up, and his expression was cold, clipped, composed. But your world cracked. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. You looked around, saw the amusement on their faces, the mockery, the disbelief that anyone as soft as you could’ve tried to reach someone as sharp-edged as him. And then your gaze landed back on Taehyun.

“All I’ve done,” you said, voice trembling, “is try to be nice to you. To care for you. Even when you were cruel. Even when you didn’t deserve it.” He said nothing. Your voice dropped to a whisper. “But I’m done.”

You didn’t wait for his reaction. Didn’t want to see if there was even a flicker of regret in those storm-grey eyes. You turned on your heel, your shoes tapping hard against the stone, and fled the classroom. Again. But this time… you didn’t cry. This time, your chest burned with something else. This time, you were done being soft for someone who only knew how to bruise.

Taehyun sat frozen in the aftermath. The laughter had faded. The stares had drifted away. But the silence that followed your exit rang louder than anything else in the room. He stared at the empty space where you’d stood, chest hollow and knotted, something sour rising in his throat. The words he’d thrown at you echoed back in his ears; sharp, venom-laced things forged in fear, insecurity, and pride. And regret, thick and immediate, curled in his gut like poison. “Taehyun?” the professor called. But he didn’t answer. He stood up abruptly, chair scraping back, and bolted.

His shoes struck stone as he ran through the corridor, breath tight, wand forgotten. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to find you. That he had to. His heart beat painfully against his ribs. The hallways blurred past him, students turned their heads as he passed, but he didn’t stop. He found you in the greenhouses, your favorite place, tucked behind the castle where the air smelled of earth and mint, where your emotions could breathe. You stood alone beneath the arching glass dome, surrounded by sleeping winter blooms. The late afternoon light spilled through the frosted windows in ribbons of gold. You had your arms crossed, head bowed, lips pressed tightly together. When you heard the door open, you stiffened.

“What do you want?” you said, voice hoarse, but strong.

Taehyun’s breath hitched. “I’m sorry.”

You laughed, bitter and soft. “You’re always sorry.”

“I know.” He took a step closer. “I know I keep ruining things. I know I keep hurting you. But I don’t—” His voice broke. “I don’t mean to.”

“Then why do you?” you snapped, eyes glassy, anger trembling under your skin. “Why do you keep pushing me away? Every time I try to be kind, every time I try to care about you — you throw it back in my face.” Taehyun looked down at his hands, curling them into fists. “Because you make it hard to pretend I don’t feel anything.” You stared at him. 

He looked up, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were wide, vulnerable, raw. “You’re always happy. You shine so damn much it hurts. And I... I’ve spent my whole life trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone expects. And then you walk in, and you’re better than me, and kinder, and I didn’t know what to do with that. So I lashed out. Because it was easier than admitting I—” He swallowed. “I like you.” Silence bloomed between you. Quiet. Fragile.

“You’re such a bloody idiot,” you muttered.

Taehyun blinked, startled. “What?” And then you stepped forward. Fast. Sure. Your hands came up to grab the collar of his robes, tugging him down before he could react. Your mouth crashed into his with a force that knocked the air out of both of you. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was furious, raw, earned. Taehyun made a soft, strangled noise in the back of his throat, his hands fluttering for a moment before settling; one on your waist, the other braced against the table behind you. But you didn’t wait for him. You deepened the kiss, teeth and warmth and heat and something frantic behind it all. You poured your anger and your longing into him, tasting the apology on his tongue, daring him to mean it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your eyes burned into his. “I’ve liked you for ages, you emotionally constipated genius,�� you whispered, chest heaving. “But I’m not going to keep running after you if you’re going to keep running from yourself.” His mouth parted. He didn’t speak. He only nodded, once, reverent. 

“I won’t break for you again, Taehyun,” you said, softer now. “So if you’re going to kiss me back next time… mean it.”

“I will,” he breathed, eyes wide, lips swollen, still stunned by the hurricane of you. “I swear.” And this time, when you kissed him again, it was slower. Sweeter. The first page of a new chapter written in ink instead of fire. And for once, he let himself feel it.

–

The announcement came quietly, a simple flick of parchment and a name spoken with no ceremony. At breakfast, the Great Hall was humming; spoons clinking against porridge bowls, owls flapping in with the morning post, low chatter weaving between house tables like mist. Professor McGonagall stood at the podium, spectacles glinting as she unrolled the scroll of student appointments. Her voice carried with its usual sharpness, precise and unyielding. “The Prefect position for next term,” she said, “has been awarded to Miss Eliza Rowe of Gryffindor.” 

A polite smattering of applause followed. Nothing loud, nothing triumphant, just the rustle of hands clapping out of obligation more than celebration. Eliza, three seats down from the golden trio’s old haunt, blinked, then straightened her back and nodded once, the picture of composed satisfaction. She’d dotted her i’s with logic, crossed her t’s with ruthlessness, built her empire from timetables and perfectly executed essays. And she deserved it. You blinked, mid-sip of pumpkin juice. Across the table, Taehyun paused, one hand wrapped around a buttered scone. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. And then, like a shared secret, you both burst into soft, startled laughter.

No bitterness curled on your tongues. No resentment twisted in your chests. There was no sting to the loss, only the warm realization that you hadn’t even noticed the stakes anymore. Taehyun leaned forward, elbows brushing the edge of his plate, eyes gleaming in the slanted morning light. “You know, I think this might be the first time I’ve lost anything and not wanted to hex someone about it.” You smirked. “Wow. Character development.” 

He grinned, actually grinned, the corners of his mouth curling like sunlight creeping through storm clouds. “Don’t push it.” You looked down at your plate, then back up at him. “I mean, we both lost, technically. And yet…”

“And yet,” he echoed, voice low and warm, gaze lingering. His fingers brushed yours under the table, just a whisper of contact, but it said everything. You glanced around at the bustle of the Hall. No one was paying attention to you anymore. The spotlight had shifted elsewhere. You and Taehyun were no longer the top contenders, the academic titans vying for dominance. And you didn’t care.

The rivalry had sharpened you both, carved out the edges where you met, but now, here, in this quiet moment between spoonfuls of marmalade and melted butter, it felt like something new was blooming. Not softer, exactly. But truer. Less about pride. More about presence. “I think,” you said slowly, “I’d rather have this.”

He tilted his head. “This?”

You shrugged, fighting a smile. “Us. Whatever we are now.” For a moment, Taehyun didn’t answer. Just looked at you, like you were the only person in the castle worth watching. Like maybe, in some unspoken way, he’d already chosen this over everything else. Then he said, “Me too.”

Epilogue 

The letter arrives on a Tuesday. It isn’t sent with an owl, or folded with formal corners. It’s slipped into your Potions textbook, tucked between a page on amortentia and the properties of powdered moonstone. You find it when your fingers brush against the soft, familiar parchment, sealed with nothing more than a pressed flower. A heliotrope. His favorite. And yours. Your name is scrawled across the front in his ever-meticulous handwriting, slanted and confident and just a touch dramatic. But inside; it’s him, wholly and undeniably.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower. Tonight. Midnight. Don’t bring Sunoo, or I swear. 

Stop asking questions you already know the answer to, Little Miss Perfect. It makes me want to kiss you. Which is inconvenient. Because I hate you.

—T.K.

You laugh, soft, delighted, head shaking in disbelief. The paper crinkles in your hand as your fingers clutch it tighter, your stomach blooming with something golden and giddy. You press the letter against your lips, a half-suppressed giggle escaping. He still says he hates you. You roll your eyes, slip the letter into your sleeve, and go anyway.

The Astronomy Tower is quiet when you arrive, the air tinged with cold and the faint, fragrant echo of spring pushing through winter’s shadow. Snow clings in delicate lace to the ramparts, the sky a deep indigo velvet scattered with stars. Hogwarts sleeps below, its windows glowing faintly, warm and distant. You find him leaning against the parapet, robes fluttering slightly in the breeze, curls tousled and dark against the moonlight. He doesn’t turn as you approach, but you know he hears you. He always does. “You’re late,” Taehyun murmurs, without looking.

“You’re impossible,” you reply, stepping beside him, shoulder brushing his.

He finally glances at you. “And yet, here you are.”

You smile. It’s soft, easy. “What’s the occasion?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks up, at the moon, at the stars, at anything but you. When he finally speaks, it’s quieter. “I used to come here to get away from people. To think. Sometimes just to breathe.” You say nothing. You let him unravel in his own time.

He exhales, long and slow. “Now all I think about is how badly I want you here. All the time. Even when you’re babbling. Even when you’re winning at things I swore I needed to beat you at.” You glance at him, heart beating like a drum beneath your ribs. He turns to face you fully now, the night making a poem of his profile, sharp lines, soft edges, eyes full of unspoken things.

“You ruined my solitude,” he whispers. 

You tilt your head, teasing. “You’re welcome.” 

His lips twitch. “I should hate you for it.”

“And yet?”

“And yet,” he says, stepping closer, “you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be wrong with.” You reach for him first this time, fingers brushing his, pulling him into your gravity. He meets you halfway. The kiss is quiet. Slow. Like a confession. Like a wish. Above, the stars burn steady. Below, the castle dreams. And somewhere between the heavens and the earth, a boy who built walls and a girl who tore them down find something far sweeter than victory. Not perfection. But something better. Home

(♬) - @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @xylatox

[snootlestheangel]

This might sound attention seeking so I'm sorry if it does, it is not my intention, I am just looking for a distraction.

Since my anxiety is actively trying to kill me, I'd really appreciate some asks or something

The more bizarre the question, the better, but I'll take things for my wips or ocs

Just anything to distract me from the fact I feel rather miserable lately

*i get sappy in the tags*

[gingerbreadmonsters]

its so important to me that you know how much ive already cried over this wip and its literally only been two days

[moshieee]

Ew, essays :[

I miss the old days of kindergarten when we attempted to color butterflies and ate erasers and glue

-🎁

I hated kindergarten

Essays may suck but at least now I'm not the weird kid in the corner wishing I had friends

However yes I absolutely despise essays with all my being... in fact!

Achievement unlocked: you somehow found a topic moshie hates enough and on a bad day to start them ranting in the tags...

Warning there are curse words, poor spelling, and caps locks

Sorry in advance

[thetangibleghost]

It's kinda like before anti-psycotics I experienced my innerworld, my subconscious, the observable world, and other people innerworlds all on top of each other. They mixed together and when information was missing it was hard to tell as it was all so messy.

All those realities still exist, and they still exist all at the same time. Now, they are all the same world, instead of layered realities. Delusions no longer exist in bubbles that I get stuck in but as a part of the world that contradicts or doesn't contradict other parts.

The world is like nothing else. I'm still depressed, suicidal, and delusional. But now I can like sorta feed my self and keep my body clean. I had all the tools before to do so, but my entire life I couldn't keep up and I never knew why. I thought maybe trauma and autism, those still play a part but like literally my life is just. Exactly the same but I shower and pick up things I don't want to step on off the floor.

My self awareness too. It's always been a struggle for me to understand how I'm perceived. I'm constantly, as I think most people do, reflecting, making changes, and grieving. But now progress is more satisfying. I can make plans that have more moving parts and understand situations without that sliding reality feeling. Even if my actual follow through is the same.

I dissociate a lot still

I tend to react well to medications and antipsychotics are nothing to mess around with. But I but a lot of thought (I was lucky to be able to) into starting them and the results just. They weren't what I was expecting. Like, I expected them to work, but like. like look at this I wrote this long silly post that stays on topic and moves between subtopics. I didn't even plan that. My thoughts are just. Literally organized. And I was able to write in an organic way before my delusions got worse last year, but it still wasn't like this and I wasn't always able to.

[munch-mumbles]

farts

[drchucktingle]

BIG thing i get teased about over the years (in playful ways, it is fine buckaroos, but a light tease none the less) is the DIRECTNESS of my titles. many who stumble upon my books will immediately comment 'the title is so long it just says what happens'. here are some of my thoughts on that...

as with a lot of things in the tingleverse, my unusual artistic choices end up being a sort of TROJAN HORSE, called unserious and mocked by many, but hopefully over the years revealing something to buckaroos who are not tied to the separation of ‘low brow’ or ‘high brow’ art

i feel understood by most, but for some who JUST NOW encounter the tingleverse there is an automatic apprehension, from outright to subliminal. things like scoffing ’im not going to try and find meaning in a chuck tingle book’ (real quote) or 'skeptical of the horror, ive seen his OTHER books'

i have written a LOT about how much of this, whether buds know it or not, is not just about the dinosaurs and the living objects. it is about a culture that is built to see queerness and neurodivergence and (drumroll) SEXUALITY as fundamentally unworthy of ‘real’ artistic merit. this trot runs deep

theres SOMETHING ELSE i dont talk on much however, which is directness of my writing style, both in titles and on page. why i do it is this: AS AN ARTIST it is never my intention to impress you. my books are not the 'ME show' theyre the 'US show’ so i simply want my sentences to express what happens

i wont dance circles around you, leading you through the story saying LOOK AT ME LOOK HOW GOOD I AM IM SO COOL. i want to walk BESIDE you. of course, writing to impress is also great and valid art too, just not MY preference. this is ARTISTIC choice, but i want to talk for a moment on politics of it

i tend to see buckaroos holding a sort of STRICT interpretation of what makes ‘good’ art. it is a training that has been pounded into their heads declaring ‘real art cannot just come out and say what it means.' a good example would be if someone was being critical by just saying 'its heavy handed'

the thing is, there is a huge difference between saying ‘it was blunt.’ and ‘it was TOO BLUNT for what it was trying to accomplish.’ TIME AND TIME AGAIN however, you will see folks simply deciding ‘this art just said what it meant on the surface’ and leaving it there, as if that is INHERENTLY WRONG.

and the question i am forced to ask myself is ‘WHY is this wrong?’ in the vast, infinite pantheon of WHAT ART CAN BE why are we so obsessed with hiding ourselves? obscuring our thoughts? removing our politics? there is certainly a time for subtly, but it seems there is NEVER a time for being blunt

some say this is because arts more DIFFICULT to craft when it is subliminal, but folks do not REACT that way. art that is both direct AND subliminal and layered will STILL get torn down for leaving things on the surface, even when technically speaking it is probably most impressive to juggle both

there is plenty for you to research on this regarding the CIA secretly funding abstract expressionist art during the cold war. it is still HOTLY DEBATED, but i will mention it here for anyone reading my thread who is interested in a deep dive. HERE, however, i will talk about it on a personal level

i think that culturally we are CONSTANTLY told to not take up space, especially in marginalized groups. there is decades and decades of programming telling us ‘you can express yourself, but in a CIVILIZED WAY, not too loud, not too direct. CERTAINLY not too political.' i flatly reject this

of all the places to do what you want and say what you want to say, ART IS THE PERFECT ARENA. your writing, your songs, your music can absolutely be as subtle as you want, but especially during times like this, dont let anyone tell you that youre too dang loud. lets trot buckaroos.

and since i spent all morning writing this is am going to leave a link for my new book LUCK DAY, which is LOUD AS HECK. now is a time to make art, and it is also a time to support the artists you love. give a preorder if you can. LOVE IS REAL

[bombiikki]

𝖙he 𝖙aste 𝖔f 𝖞our 𝖑ips ⸝⸝ 𓂃₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡ — non idol!megan x fem!reader

♯ 𝖘ynopsis : while running through the university campus, megan runs into you and falls head over heels (literally). she can’t keep her eyes off of your lips and tries as hard as she can to befriend you. 

𝖈ontains : slowburn but i still dont know how to slow the burn, SLIGHT grumpy x sunshine, reader knows how to bake, megan’s cinnamon allergy is mentioned like thrice, absolute like complete fluff with no angst whatsoever, reader is a bit nonchalant… NOT PROOFREAD

𝖜ord 𝖈ount : 20.9k

𝖆uthor's 𝖓ote : sorry its been a while since ive pstoed chat anwyays first katseye fic!! guess who my bias is very difficult challanege!!!!! ermmemrm i feel like its a bit inconsitent and maybe rushed but its already like 20k words so maybe not rushed rushed 😭(its not proofread… im sorry) anwyays does anyone find it funny im writing a fic abt ginger megan when it has lietrally been confirmed that she is no longer ginger 

megan sprinted through the sprawling halls of the university, her heart pounding as she clutched her timetable like a lifeline. she had promised herself that university would be a fresh start—a time to be punctual, responsible, a well-put-together student. that plan was currently crashing and burning.

“where is this damned room,” she muttered under her breath, her frantic pace earning a few curious glances from passing students.

she flicked her eyes between her timetable and the endless sea of doors, her brain struggling to make sense of the numbers. completely absorbed in her search, she didn’t see it coming. one second, she was sprinting. the next, she was on the floor.

her books scattered, her breath knocked right out of her chest. she groaned, rubbing her shoulder. what the hell had she just run into? a pole? a statue? no, a person. she blinked up, eyes widening as she took in the girl standing before her. 

you had your hands over your headphones, casually pulling them off as you turned, your gaze slowly dropping to the mess of a girl on the ground. your expression was unreadable, but the slight furrow of your brow made you look almost annoyed. to anyone else, maybe even to yourself, you might have seemed like you were scowling. but to megan? that wasn’t a scowl—that was a look of effortless coolness.

her stomach did something weird. her brain short-circuited. you were gorgeous. her eyes fixated on yours, dark and piercing, like you could see straight through her. then, as if her gaze had a mind of its own, it dropped to your lips. soft, glossy, and unfairly distracting.

she swallowed thickly, suddenly hyper-aware of the way she probably looked—sprawled on the ground like some tragic rom-com protagonist. she scratched the back of her neck, laughing nervously. you just watched her.

“watch where you’re going next time,” you said flatly, your voice even, almost indifferent. then, without hesitation, you extended a hand toward her.

megan stared at it for a second too long before finally grasping it. your hand was smaller than hers but steady, effortlessly strong as you pulled her to her feet. and now, she was the one looking down at you.

a goofy, apologetic smile stretched across her face, her nerves practically buzzing. “i’m so sorry about that,” she said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck again.

you stared up at her, unimpressed. “uh-huh.”

megan, still reeling from the fact that you had actually touched her hand, fumbled with her timetable. she held it out awkwardly, pointing to the location of her first class. “do you—um—do you know where this is?”

you glanced at it, then gave a small nod. “you’re heading in the same direction i am. c’mon, i’ve already wasted enough time standing around.” and just like that, you turned and started walking.

megan scrambled after you, still slightly dazed from the whole ordeal. she trailed behind, sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

“so—uh—do you usually go around body-checking people in the halls?” she asked, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.

you didn’t even slow down. “do you usually go around running into people?”

megan opened her mouth to respond, then promptly shut it. 

the rest of the walk to class was quiet—at least on your end. megan, on the other hand, kept sneaking glances at you, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. her mind replayed the moment over and over again. she had basically crashed into you at full speed, yet you hadn’t even stumbled. you were practically an immovable force. how was that fair? she was still recovering from her fall while you walked like nothing had happened.

before she knew it, you were stepping into the lecture hall. megan followed closely, scanning the room. plenty of seats were still open, students filing in one by one, but she barely thought twice before sliding into the seat right next to you.

you placed your books down, settling into your space, when you noticed her presence. you blinked. of all the empty seats, she had chosen the one beside you. you didn’t comment on it, but she clearly noticed the way your eyes flickered to her before you turned back to your notes.

she shifted slightly, then, as if remembering something, brightened. turning toward you, she extended a hand. “i think we skipped proper introductions. my name is megan!”

the grin on her face was wide and genuine, her whiskered dimples deepening as she beamed at you. you barely spared her a glance. slow. unimpressed. a judgmental blink that made her enthusiasm falter just a little.

“y/n.” you leaned back into your seat, gaze already returning to the front of the lecture hall.

megan nodded, withdrawing her hand awkwardly. “cool. nice to meet you, y/n.”

you hummed in acknowledgment. it wasn’t much, but to megan, it was a start.

the classroom hummed with the low, dull drone of the professor’s voice as he paced at the front of the hall, animatedly introducing the semester’s syllabus. pens scratched, papers shifted, and tired eyes blinked toward the clock. you sat near the middle, posture straight, notes organized, every word you deemed important underlined neatly in your book.

you didn’t mean to notice her again, but she hadn’t moved in minutes.

megan sat to your right, eyes locked on the professor like she was watching a suspense film. her lips were slightly parted, eyebrows drawn together, her whole face tense with effort.

you glanced down at her notebook. still blank. not a single mark on the page. she didn’t even have a pen out.

your eyes narrowed slightly. what was she even doing?

maybe she was just trying to listen. or maybe she had no idea what was going on and was hoping if she stared hard enough, the knowledge would seep into her brain on its own. you wouldn’t be surprised.

you looked away. not your problem.

you shifted slightly in your seat, pushing your pencil forward. line after line, you wrote with practiced ease, your handwriting neat, precise. around you, the world faded into background noise—until she moved again. a small shift. the sound of her elbow brushing the edge of the desk. a quiet sigh, like the lecture had gone over her head ten minutes ago but she didn’t want to give up just yet.

you didn’t say anything. but something about her... stuck in your peripheral.

you told yourself it was just because she was clumsy. loud in her own quiet way. not worth the effort to get involved.

and yet, you kept glancing.

as the lecture wore on, the room slowly fell into the rhythm of the professor’s pacing voice and distant slides clicking from his laptop. you felt the air grow stale, heavy with first-day fatigue. still, megan didn’t move much. maybe she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. maybe she was trying to focus. maybe she didn’t want to seem like she was struggling—but you could tell.

not just from her empty page, but from the way she squinted at the board, her fingers twitching like they wanted to write something, but didn’t know where to begin.

you glanced at your notes. then at hers again. then back at the board.

you tapped your pen softly against your paper.

not your problem.

when the lecture finally crawled toward its ending, the room stirred. chairs creaked, zippers buzzed, and students leaned forward like racers waiting for a starting pistol. the professor gave his final remarks, and the stampede began.

you moved efficiently—books stacked, pen capped, bag slung over one shoulder. beside you, megan was a mess of limbs and paper, trying too hard to pack too fast. you didn’t need to look to know something was about to fall.

a soft thud confirmed it. a book had slipped from her pile and landed neatly beside your foot.

you sighed through your nose and bent down. your fingers wrapped around the worn edge of the book’s cover. it was a basic literature text, corners bent and spine soft from overuse. probably secondhand. probably loved, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet.

you handed it back without a word.

megan blinked at you, clearly not expecting the gesture. her hand brushed yours as she took the book. warm fingers. a little shaky. she held it to her chest like it had sentimental value.

“sorry,” she said, letting out a nervous laugh. “i keep doing that.”

you didn’t respond right away. your gaze lingered on her face—just a moment longer than necessary. her cheeks were slightly pink. her hair was a little messy from rushing. her eyes, though... they were focused. not in a sharp way, but in a determined one. like she was trying, even if she didn’t know what she was doing.

you gave a small nod. “try holding it tighter next time.”

your tone wasn’t cold, exactly. just honest. matter-of-fact.

she smiled—soft and unsure, but real. “noted,” she murmured.

you turned without waiting, slipping into the stream of students leaving the hall.

behind you, megan stood still for a moment, clutching the book tight. her gaze lingered on the back of your head, her thoughts loud in her silence. she didn’t understand you. you barely spoke. barely looked her way. and yet, she felt like she’d been noticed in a way no one else had managed.

not her heart. not yet.

just her curiosity.

and maybe that was how it started. not with a flutter, but with a question.

the campus café murmured with soft life—quiet voices blending into the hum of machines, the clatter of mugs meeting saucers, the distant rustle of wind against the windows. it was the kind of afternoon that asked for warmth. clouds hung low, heavy and silver, and rain pattered faintly on the glass.

you had claimed a seat by the window, as always. a book lay open in front of you, spine cracked and pages curling gently from age. your fingers curved around a warm cup, steam rising in slow, lazy spirals. the outside world blurred against the fogging glass, and for a moment, it was just you, your coffee, and the silence.

but peace never lasted long in a world that included megan skiendiel.

“oh! hey, y/n!”

you didn’t look up right away. your fingers stilled for a breath. then, slowly, you lifted your gaze.

there she was—hair slightly tousled, cheeks pink from the chill outside, and eyes bright like she’d just stumbled upon a hidden treasure. without waiting for so much as a nod from you, she dropped into the seat across the table, her smile as loud as her entrance.

“fancy seeing you here! do you come here a lot? actually, i do too—well, not that much, but enough that the guy at the register knows my order, which is kinda cool but also a little embarrassing, like, what does that say about me—”

“megan.” your voice cut through her rambling like the edge of a dull knife—blunt but firm.

she brightened, like a puppy hearing its name. “that’s me! i’m megan!”

you stared at her flatly. “did i ever give you the impression that i was open to befriending you?”

the question landed hard. her grin faltered, slipping sideways into something smaller. her hands tugged nervously at the ends of her sleeves. “um—no?” she said weakly. “sorry. i can—just—i’ll leave.”

she reached for her drink, trying to recover her dignity. but grace had never been on her side.

her hand knocked the cup instead of grabbing it. the lid popped, and coffee leapt forward in a dramatic arc, landing squarely on your sleeve. the heat seeped through the fabric, spreading warmth across your hoodie in a slow, sticky stain.

you blinked once, slowly, at the mess.

“oh my god—oh no—wait, don’t move!” she gasped, panic already setting in. napkins flew from the holder as she scrambled to fix what she’d broken. she lunged across the table with desperate energy, dabbing at your arm with trembling hands, napkins half-crumpled in her grip.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t scowl. just reached calmly for another napkin and cleaned the sleeve yourself.

“you’re making it worse.”

“i know! i know, i’m so sorry! i’ll—i’ll buy you another coffee! or—or a new hoodie! do you want my jacket?” she was already halfway out of it, arms wrangling with the sleeves, eyes wide with alarm.

“i don’t want your jacket,” you said simply.

she froze, halfway out of her coat, lips pressed into a tight, sheepish pout. “are you sure?”

“positive.”

megan sank back into her chair, jacket bunched awkwardly around her elbows. she watched as you wiped your sleeve in silence, your expression unchanged. no annoyance. no sighs of frustration. just calm acceptance. and somehow, that made her feel even worse.

“still,” she mumbled, picking at the edge of a napkin, “let me get you a coffee. it’s the least i can do.”

you glanced at her, then back to your cup. “i don’t need two coffees.”

“right.” she nodded quickly. “yeah, okay. just… offering.”

a pause settled. not tense. just awkward, in the way only she could make it.

you slid an extra napkin across the table without looking up. her eyes followed it, then flicked to you. you didn’t speak, but your silence carried something that settled her nerves better than any apology could.

it’s fine.

she stared for a second longer than she should have. your lashes were long. your lips slightly parted as you took another sip of coffee, the steam ghosting against your skin. she didn’t know why her eyes kept flicking down to your mouth, but they did. more than once.

and every time, her heart did a tiny skip she pretended not to notice.

“you’re, um…” she started, then trailed off. you raised an eyebrow. “nevermind.”

you didn’t press her. just went back to your book.

megan watched you for a bit longer, hands tucked between her thighs to keep from fidgeting. you were unreadable, and maybe that was what kept drawing her in. you didn’t look at her the way others did. you didn’t smile or make jokes or soften your voice. you were just... steady. unbothered. and even covered in coffee, you made it look cool.

she looked down at your lips again. her brows furrowed. weird.

she looked away.

definitely weird.

megan walked across campus with her friends, the cool morning air filled with their usual banter. nestled between lara and daniela, the two were in the middle of a ridiculous debate about the best way to peel an orange. manon trailed just behind, her voice grumbling low as she complained about school. sophia was listening with her full attention—though megan had a feeling she was just waiting for the right moment to make some over-the-top dramatic interjection, like she always did.

“okay, okay, but listen,” megan said, raising her hands for attention. the chatter around her paused as five pairs of eyes turned to her. “so, remember how i told you i bumped into y/n in the hall the other day?”

“uh-huh.” lara smirked, clearly entertained. “the scary quiet girl you’re determined to befriend?”

megan rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “right, so,” she continued, brushing off lara’s teasing, “i saw her again. at the café. and i, uh… i may have spilled coffee all over her hoodie.”

a beat of silence passed before laughter erupted.

“oh, megan,” sophia sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest like she’d just heard the most tragic news. “oh, my sweet child.”

daniela let out a low whistle. “yikes. you really wanna befriend this girl, huh? ‘cause from where i’m standing, it sounds like you’re just haunting her.”

“noooo…” megan dragged out the word, a nervous laugh escaping her. “she doesn’t hate me.”

lara raised a brow, her voice dripping with playful skepticism. “mmm. are you sure?”

“yeah, i mean…” megan hesitated, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “she didn’t snap at me or anything. just kind of… sighed.”

“damn.” daniela snorted. “you made her sigh? that’s almost worse.”

before megan could defend herself, manon piped up from behind, stretching her arms over her head as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “y’know, i’ve actually heard about this girl. she’s kinda infamous. apparently, she’s got this whole mysterious, nonchalant dreadhead thing going on.”

lara turned to her, eyes lighting up like a match about to catch fire. “damn, girl sounds like the ultimate alpha wolf or something.”

the group froze in collective horror. then, without warning, they all cringed.

“lara, what the hell—”

“never say that again—”

“that was so bad—”

lara groaned, slapping megan’s shoulder lightly. “shut up, you guys! it sounded cool in my head!”

“it did not sound cool out loud,” sophia wheezed, doubling over in laughter. the whole group joined in, their giggles carrying through the air, momentarily forgetting about anything else.

as the laughter began to fade, daniela elbowed megan, her eyes glittering with mischief. “so, what’s the next move, huh? you gonna spill soup on her next? maybe trip and land dramatically in her arms?”

megan rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “i wish yoonchae was here. she would totally have my back.”

sophia scoffed, shaking her head. “as if! she’d be laughing at you too.”

the group chuckled again, their voices light and carefree, but before long, their schedules pulled them in different directions. megan waved them off, adjusting her bag as she made her way to her next lecture.

this time, she found the hall without any trouble.

as she approached the door, she spotted a familiar figure already reaching for it. she slowed her steps slightly, watching as you pulled the door open. she expected you to step inside without even noticing her, but instead—without a word—you held the door open just enough for her to slip through. she stopped in her tracks for a moment, her feet stuttering slightly.

it wasn’t much. just a small, effortless gesture. but coming from you? it felt different. almost intentional. megan felt her face flush unexpectedly.

“uh—thanks,” she muttered, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious as she ducked her head, avoiding your gaze.

you didn’t say anything, just let go of the door once she passed and walked ahead to your usual seat. megan, still feeling oddly flustered, followed behind and slid into the seat next to you once again, her heart beating faster than it probably should’ve been.

it wasn’t anything big. just a small thing. but for some reason, it was enough to make her think about you for the rest of the day.

the classroom buzzed with the usual chatter as students filtered in, gathering their belongings and settling into their seats. megan walked in a little later than usual, her fingers nervously tugging at the strap of her bag. she caught sight of you across the room, sitting in your usual spot near the middle, surrounded by your textbooks, already engrossed in something. as usual, you didn’t seem to notice anyone or anything around you—completely lost in your own world.

megan hesitated for a moment, biting her bottom lip. she had been trying to be more subtle, trying not to be too forward with her attempts to get to know you better. but after that weird interaction at the café, where she’d spilled coffee all over your hoodie, she felt this weird, unshakable pull to try again. maybe this time she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. or maybe she would.

with a deep breath, she made her way toward your desk, pretending not to notice the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"hey, y/n," she said, her voice tentative but hopeful, as she stood beside your desk. "i, uh, noticed you had your book out, and i was thinking—maybe you could help me with the reading? i, um, didn’t quite get all of it last night."

you didn’t even look up from your book. your pen moved slowly across the page, writing something down with deliberate precision. megan waited for a response, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag, a little awkward now.

when it became clear that you weren’t going to acknowledge her, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly out of place. "it’s just, like, some of the themes are a bit confusing," she continued, trying to force her voice to sound casual, like she wasn’t panicking on the inside. "i thought maybe—"

still nothing. you didn’t even flinch at her words.

megan let out a quiet breath, realizing you weren’t going to bite. she glanced at the seat next to you, where an empty chair sat, untouched. she knew there was no point in pushing further. if you weren’t going to respond, that was that. so, with a small sigh, she moved to sit in the chair next to yours.

she could feel your presence next to her, the quiet hum of your focus that always seemed to fill the air around you. it was as though you had built this invisible wall between yourself and the rest of the world. and maybe that was why she felt so drawn to you—because there was this layer of mystery she couldn’t quite crack.

she tried to focus on her notes, but her attention kept drifting back to you, her eyes flicking to the page of your book, to the way your fingers held the pen. it was like a magnetic pull, something she couldn’t control.

"y’know," she said again, a little louder this time, "it’s kind of funny. we’re both doing literature, but we’ve barely talked."

you glanced up at her for the briefest moment, your eyes meeting hers for just a split second before you returned to your book. no expression crossed your face. no acknowledgment of the comment. just a quiet return to your work.

megan blinked, unsure of how to take it. she was so used to her friends always responding, always engaging in conversation. but with you? it felt like she was talking to a wall.

undeterred, she went on, trying to keep the conversation alive. "i mean, we’re in the same class, and it’s not like we’re strangers. we’ve sat next to each other before. it just feels like… i don’t know, we should talk more."

this time, you shifted in your seat just slightly, as if her words had reached you in some distant corner of your mind. but still, no response came. you were too absorbed in the pages in front of you, too lost in whatever thoughts you were wrapped up in.

megan huffed quietly, her fingers tapping nervously against her notebook. she had no idea how to break through your quiet shell, and honestly, she was starting to wonder if it was even possible. maybe you really didn’t want anything to do with her. maybe she was being too much.

but then, almost imperceptibly, she noticed it—a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle change. she saw your hand, still resting on the desk, and for a brief moment, her gaze flickered down to your fingers. her eyes lingered there, caught in that tiny detail, the way your hand looked so still, so controlled. for a second, she forgot about everything else. her heart skipped just a little, and she caught herself staring longer than she meant to.

when she realised what she was doing, she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing. what the hell was wrong with her? why did she keep doing that?

her mind scrambled to find a distraction, any distraction, but the rest of the class was beginning to settle, and you still hadn’t acknowledged her. she wondered if you even noticed her at all. or maybe you didn’t care. either way, it didn’t seem like you had any interest in being her friend.

the lecture began, and she fell silent, pulling out her own textbook, trying to focus. but even as she opened the pages, her thoughts kept returning to the quiet figure next to her—the person who was always just out of reach, no matter how hard she tried.

weeks had passed, and your days had fallen into a routine so predictable it bordered on suffocating. every time you entered your english lecture, you knew what would happen: megan would find a way to wedge herself into your personal space, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

you weren’t sure how or why she had chosen you. she could’ve befriended anyone, really. but no, she picked you. and despite your every effort to keep her at arm’s length, she just didn’t stop. she waved at you on campus, started conversations without even waiting for an invitation, and cracked jokes even when you didn’t smile. she was relentless.

you didn’t hate her. well, you didn’t think you did. but the thing was, you didn’t like people in general. there was your roommate, haerin, but aside from her, you preferred being alone. and megan? she was like this constant, unpredictable force of companionship. it wasn’t that she was unbearable. no, it was just that you couldn’t understand her persistence. it made no sense but still, there she was every single time.

you sighed as you entered the lecture hall, already steeling yourself for another hour of megan's uninvited presence beside you. you slid into your usual seat in the middle of the room, your eyes flicking briefly toward the door. but megan didn’t walk in.

the professor arrived, and students filed in, but still, the seat beside you remained empty. you told yourself it didn’t matter. people skipped class all the time. it was hardly a big deal. especially not because it was megan. why would you even care?

but somehow, your gaze drifted back to the door every few seconds. just once, you told yourself. just one glance. you mentally cursed yourself for it. you didn’t even know why you were waiting for her, but the door stayed quiet. no ginger hair. no voice that made you roll your eyes. nothing.

you forced your attention back to the professor, but the lecture didn’t do much to hold it. your fingers tapped idly against your desk as your mind wandered. megan had probably overslept. or maybe she just didn’t feel like coming. maybe something came up—anything, really. anything that didn’t involve her vanishing on you like this.

the professor’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. class was over. students were already packing up, rushing to the door, and you suddenly realised you hadn’t written down a single note.

frustrated, you slammed your notebook closed and began stuffing it into your bag, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settle in. just as you were about to stand up, the professor called out.

“y/n, can you come up here for a second?”

your stomach lurched. you hadn’t done anything wrong. or at least, you didn’t think you had. but being singled out in front of an entire lecture hall always felt uncomfortable, and the knot in your stomach made it worse. reluctantly, you stood and trudged toward the front.

the professor gave you a quick once-over, his expression shifting from focused to concerned. “are you alright? you seem a little... standoffish today.”

you blinked, hesitating for a moment. “uh—yeah. i’m fine. what’s up?”

he sighed and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, leaning slightly toward you. “i hear you’re an excellent tutor. you work with high school students, don’t you?”

you nodded, still unsure where this was heading.

“well, one of the students in this class is struggling,” he continued. “i’ve already spoken with her about it, and i wanted to ask if you’d be willing to tutor her.”

your stomach dropped, unease settling in. tutoring wasn’t a bad gig. it was easy money, and you were good at it. but the way he phrased it... it felt like he was preparing you for something you wouldn’t like.

“sure,” you said, your voice slow and careful. “who is it?”

your professor smiled faintly, as though this were a casual request. “oh, i’m sure you know her. you sit next to each other every day. always talking. i’m sure she’s been talking your ear off.”

you didn’t need to hear her name. you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“megan skiendiel.”

you inhaled sharply, your chest tightening. of course. of course it was her.

you forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding stiffly. “yeah—no, i, uh... i know her. really well.”

your professor gave you a small, approving nod. “great. she’ll be expecting you to reach out to her soon. she’s a bright student, just needs a bit of extra help to keep up.”

“right,” you muttered, still trying to process what had just happened.

as you turned to leave, your professor called after you. “oh, and y/n? she’s a great kid. i think you’ll get along fine.”

you gritted your teeth, nodding again, though your mind was already elsewhere. the idea of tutoring megan wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was downright absurd. you knew the professor meant well, but all this would do was add more weight to the constant, relentless pressure of megan’s presence in your life.

it was as if the universe had conspired against you. your quiet, solitary routine? broken, all thanks to one ridiculously persistent girl. you weren’t sure if you were doomed or just really, really unlucky.

megan sat in her usual seat, right in the middle of the lecture hall, her pen spinning between her fingers like it had a mind of its own. the room filled slowly with the usual noise—pages flipping, backpacks unzipping, quiet greetings exchanged between friends—but her focus wasn’t on any of that. it hadn’t been for a while now.

her knee bounced beneath the desk, a restless rhythm she didn’t even notice. there was no reason to feel this fidgety, no reason for the weird flutter in her chest.

and then the door opened.

she didn’t have to look to know it was you. she’d learned the shape of your presence by now—the quiet that followed you in, the slight shift in the room’s gravity, like something steady had just entered. megan turned her head anyway, because of course she did, and there you were.

hoodie, headphones half-dangling out your pocket, that usual deadpan expression on your face like you hadn’t slept in three days and were fine with never sleeping again. she smiled before she could stop herself, a small, involuntary thing. she straightened in her seat, ready to say something.

your eyes met hers for barely a second before you looked away. you didn’t smile. didn’t nod. didn’t say anything. just that familiar blank look that bordered on annoyance, like you’d just seen someone park too close to your car.

you sat beside her, opened your notebook, and started writing.

megan deflated like a popped balloon.

still, she didn’t speak. not this time. she’d been learning—painfully, slowly—that you weren’t the type to respond well to forced friendliness. pushing too hard made you fold up like a pocket knife. so today, she told herself she’d chill. just a little. just enough to not scare you off entirely.

the lecture started. the professor’s voice floated somewhere above her, but her mind didn’t follow. her notes were a disaster—half-finished sentences, crooked lines, one doodle of a cat in the margin that somehow turned into a croissant.

she snuck glances at you in between pretending to write. you were, of course, fully focused, scribbling down notes in that sharp, precise way that made your handwriting look more like art than words. it was unfair how cool you looked while doing absolutely nothing.

class dragged on and megan sighed. she shifted in her seat, telling herself to stop being weird.

then finally class ended.

students stood, bags rustled, and chairs scraped the floor. megan moved to pack her things, already halfway out of her seat.

“megan.”

her name. her name. from your mouth. she turned so fast she nearly knocked her pen off the desk.

you looked vaguely annoyed. but that wasn’t new.

you pulled a sticky note from your bag, scribbling something down in that same sharp scrawl. without looking at her, you held it out.

“it’s my number,” you said flatly. “for tutoring only. i’ll text you the time. library, probably.”

megan stared at the note like it might explode. her fingers closed around it slowly, carefully, like she didn’t trust it not to vanish. her brain, meanwhile, completely short-circuited.

you’d given her your number.

your number.

you kept talking—something about where, when, rules—but she heard none of it. her ears were ringing. her heart was doing backflips. all she could think was your number.

“uh—yeah! yeah, okay! totally!” she said too loudly, fumbling for her phone, nearly dropping it as she tried to punch the digits in. her fingers betrayed her completely.

you narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. “did you even hear what i said?”

“yes!” she blurted. “tutoring. library. uh… numbers. yes.”

she gave a laugh that sounded way too close to a squeak and clutched the note to her chest like it was made of gold leaf and unicorn wishes.

you just stared at her for a beat longer, then turned to leave with a simple, dry, “just don’t be annoying.”

megan pouted. “rude,” she mumbled, but you were already halfway out the door, swallowed by the flood of students.

she stood there for a moment, still blinking like she’d dreamt the whole thing. slowly, she looked down at her phone, at the number now saved in her contacts. her heart did another unnecessary flip.

she groaned, covering her face with her hands. 

the library breathed quiet all around you, soft and steady like it had lungs of its own. pages turned like whispers, footsteps padded gently across carpet, and megan sat across from you like a storm pretending to be calm.

her pencil tapped a restless rhythm against the edge of her notebook. her notes were scattered in organized chaos—half-underlined passages, scribbled thoughts in the margins, and one crumpled page sitting like a wounded soldier between you.

you sat back in your chair, arms crossed, gaze fixed on her with that same unreadable look. your patience wasn’t limitless. and today, she was pressing her luck.

“again,” you said flatly.

megan groaned, slumping forward. “but we’ve talked about this metaphor, like, five times. i think the book just hates me.”

“no,” you replied. “it just requires basic reading comprehension.”

she glared at you, then let her head drop to the table with a soft thud. her face squished against the wood.

she mumbled something unintelligible into the surface.

“what was that?”

she turned her head slightly, her cheek still pressed to the desk. “i said maybe i should just drop out.”

you didn’t miss a beat. “maybe you should just read.”

your voice was sharper than usual, irritation coloring the edges. you flipped open her copy of the novel and jabbed your finger at a highlighted section she kept misinterpreting.

“this paragraph. out loud.”

“torture,” she groaned, but sat up, dragging her finger under each word like it might help them stick. her voice was quiet, cautious, like the sentence might bite her if she read it wrong. when she finished, she let out a sigh like she’d just climbed a mountain.

you didn’t blink. “explain it.”

she blinked right back. “uh… it’s raining because he’s… sad?”

you stared at her, deadpan. “try again.”

megan sighed dramatically and squinted at the text. “okay, okay—maybe… the storm is reflecting his inner turmoil? like, it’s not just sad. it’s destructive. because he feels guilty or angry or something.”

you raised a brow, just barely. “keep going.”

she tilted her head. “and... the lightning is like a warning? like something’s about to snap?”

you raised a brow, finally, finally something close to approval. “better.”

megan blinked. “wait, was that a compliment?”

“no.”

“you so wanted to say ‘good job.’ i heard it in your tone.”

“you’re hearing things.”

she smirked, sitting up straighter, suddenly renewed with energy. “admit it. i’m getting better.”

you sighed. “you’re getting less terrible.”

“same thing.”

she scribbled down the analysis, muttering little notes to herself as she connected the lines between the imagery and the character’s descent into guilt. you watched her quietly. despite the dramatics, she was absorbing it. slowly. painfully. but surely.

“what even is this line supposed to mean?” she asked, jabbing her pencil at the page. “‘his heart was a locked door, rusted shut with secrets’? like, sir. what does that even mean?”

you reached across the table, took her pencil, and jotted a few notes next to the quote.

“it’s a metaphor for emotional repression,” you said. “he’s closed off. guarded. and his secrets aren’t just locked away—they’re decaying. damaging him from the inside.”

megan blinked, wide-eyed. “whoa. that’s kind of… deep.”

“that’s the point.”

she rolled her eyes but smiled, copying down what you wrote. “okay, grammar robot. i get it now.”

“we’re not even doing grammar,” you muttered.

“doesn’t matter. you’re still a robot. but like, a helpful one.”

you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed again. “are you always this annoying?”

“pretty much,” she said cheerfully, stuffing her notes back into her folder. “but hey, admit it—you’d miss me if i wasn’t.”

you stared at her. didn’t say anything. but your silence said enough.

megan grinned. you looked away.

she kept smiling anyway, like she’d won something important. 

a few minutes later, she hit another roadblock. she just stared at a sentence like it might magically explain itself if she stared hard enough. your patience thinned by the second. finally, you reached over, took her pencil, and rewrote the line in a clearer way.

“this is why you’re confused,” you said, voice low but still annoyed. “you’re looking for answers without understanding the character’s voice. if you read it like this—” you adjusted the tone of the line as you read it aloud “—then the subtext makes sense. right?”

megan nodded slowly, eyes wide. “ohhh. okay. that actually helps.”

you handed her pencil back and leaned back again, arms crossed. “obviously.”

she copied your version into her notes and smiled. “thanks, by the way.”

you didn’t meet her eyes. “don’t mention it.”

but megan swore—swore—she saw the faintest twitch of amusement pull at the corner of your mouth. not a full smile. just enough to give her hope.

rain came suddenly that afternoon, slipping over the sky like someone had pulled a curtain closed. it started as a drizzle, soft and apologetic, then swelled into a downpour that soaked through shoulders and notebooks in seconds.

you didn’t bother with an umbrella. you never did.

lecture ended late, and students scattered from the building like startled birds, heads bowed against the wind, laughter sharp and shivery in the cold. you stepped into the rain like it was nothing new.

you’d made it halfway across the quad when a voice called out behind you, too bright for the grey day.

“hey! hey—wait!”

you stopped walking.

megan was jogging toward you, already damp, clutching a small, plain black umbrella above her head. she looked almost comical in how unfitting it was—such a serious thing for someone who was all color and clumsy smiles.

she reached you breathless, shoes splashing into puddles, her hair sticking to her cheeks.

“you’re gonna get drenched,” she huffed, raising the umbrella higher. “here—move closer.”

you looked at her, unimpressed. “i’m fine.”

“you’re not.” she stepped closer anyway, and the umbrella shifted until it was tilted mostly over you. “this is how people get pneumonia, y’know.”

you didn’t move.

her eyes met yours, and she gave a small shrug. “just… humor me, okay?”

you didn’t move.

she tilted her head, water slipping down her cheek. “please?”

that was the part you hated. the way she said it like it cost her something. like she meant it.

you sighed, stepping under the umbrella. not fully. just enough so your shoulder brushed hers.

“see?” she said brightly. “not that hard.”

you didn’t reply. you just walked. the umbrella bobbed awkwardly between you two, not quite big enough for both, so megan tilted it more your way every time it slipped. her notebook was getting soaked, clutched to her chest, and her shoes squelched with every step, but she didn’t complain.

you watched her from the corner of your eye. she hummed a little, off-key and cheerful, like she didn’t notice the cold, or the way your arm brushed hers every few seconds.

and when she noticed your gaze, she smiled at you. small. like she wasn’t trying to make it a moment, but still hoped it might be one.

“you didn’t have to,” you muttered finally.

“i know,” she said. “but i wanted to.”

the walk was quiet, save for the sound of water hitting pavement and the soft breath of her hum—off-key, forgettable, but oddly comforting. she didn’t try to fill the silence with words. she didn’t ask questions or tell jokes or try to get you to laugh like she usually did. she just walked beside you, shoulder to shoulder, like it was the most natural thing.

when you got to the dorm building, she stopped at the entrance, shaking the umbrella out. her sleeves were dripping now, her hair frizzing at the edges.

“see? not pneumonia today,” she said with a grin.

you hesitated. “you’re soaked.”

“yeah, well. sacrifice for the greater good.”

you gave her a flat look. “i’m not the greater good.”

“sure you are,” she chirped. “don’t fight it.”

you rolled your eyes and reached into your bag, tugging off your hoodie and shoving it into her arms.

she blinked. “wait, what—”

“you’ll catch something. dry off,” you said.

“but this is—wait, hey! you’ll be cold!”

“i’ll live,” you shrugged, continuing to walk down the street and passed the dormitory entrance

“uh… wait,” she said, jogging to catch up. “don’t you live—?”

“no,” you muttered. “apartment complex. down the street.”

“oh.” she blinked, still following you for a few paces. “that’s kinda far in this weather…”

“it’s whatever. i do this every day.”

“wait—but now you’re gonna be soaked—”

“i already am.”

“but—your hoodie—”

“then give me the umbrella,” you said flatly. “if i get sick you’ll be annoying.”

she blinked. then, slowly, she adjusted the hoodie on her shoulders. “fine. but only because you called me annoying so nicely.”

you turned and took megan’s umbrella, it now covering only you.

“hey!” she called after you. “bring that back tomorrow, okay? the umbrella, i mean.”

you didn’t look back. but your voice came, low and dry through the rain.

“maybe.”

that night, she texted you.

megan. megan ARE U HOME??? OR DID U DRONW DRAMATICALLY IN A PUDDLE SOMEWHERE ??? y/n i said this number was for tutoring only megan ok so u didnt drown dramatically in a puddle! great!! y/n the umbrella’s safe megan good! and thanks for not dying

you didn’t reply back. you didn’t need to. and as megan’s umbrella was sat outside your apartment door drying, you felt a small smile creep onto your lips.

megan had a theory. a frustrating, confusing, absolutely mind-breaking theory.

you claimed—on multiple occasions—that you didn’t want to be friends with her. that you weren’t interested in talking to her, or sitting next to her, or entertaining her presence in any way. and yet, you still helped her. constantly.

it wasn’t obvious, and it definitely wasn’t intentional, but megan saw the pattern. the way you always—always—picked up her stuff when she dropped it. the way you held doors open for her without even looking back, like it was just instinct. the way you wordlessly nudged her notebook back toward her when it started slipping off the desk.

it was driving her insane. like right now.

megan had just reached into her bag, ready to grab her notebook, when she froze. her hand hovered in mid-air, and she let out a soft groan of frustration. “ugh, i forgot my—”

before she could even finish, she felt the familiar weight of something landing softly on the desk in front of her.

she blinked, confused, then looked down. her notebook. her gaze flickered up to find you sitting across from her, calmly flipping through the pages of your own notebook, as if nothing had happened.

“you left it under your chair,” you said, voice as flat and unbothered as ever, your pen scratching lightly across the paper.

megan stared at you, then down at the notebook, her brow furrowing. it took her a moment before she reached for it, still bewildered by the suddenness of it all. 

“wait… where did you—?”

you didn’t even look up as you shrugged, clearly uninterested in the question. “i picked it up for you.”

“you just—picked it up for me?” she repeated, still half in disbelief.

you met her gaze for the first time, your expression flat. “yeah. it was under your chair.”

her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, like she couldn’t figure out whether to be annoyed, impressed, or something else entirely. 

“you say you don’t want to be friends, but—”

“we’re not,” you interrupted, cutting her off mid-sentence with a nonchalant tone, your eyes now back on the pages in front of you.

megan gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over her chest as if you had physically wounded her. 

“then why do you keep helping me?”

you sighed—long and loud, like this conversation was draining the life out of you. rubbing your temple, you leaned back in your seat. 

“i don’t help you. i just… react.”

“react with kindness,” megan pointed out, crossing her arms stubbornly, a small smirk pulling at her lips.

you groaned in response, standing up and tossing your stuff into your bag with the exaggerated movements of someone who was so over this interaction. 

“it’s not that deep, megan.”

but megan wasn’t about to let it go. not this time. she leaned forward, a determined glint in her eyes as she tapped her finger against her chin, squinting at you like she was on the verge of solving some kind of intricate puzzle. 

“hmmm. i think you secretly like me.”

you froze for just a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to notice. it was such a tiny shift, but it didn’t escape her. the sudden hitch in your movements, the way your hand stilled for just a moment too long as you reached for your bag. megan’s eyes widened in realisation.

“…i don’t,” you said, voice a little too flat, a little too unconvincing.

“you hesitated!” she said with a grin that seemed to grow with every passing second. “oh my god, i knew it!”

you quickly regained your composure, and your voice came out flat, almost defensive, but the faintest hint of something more was still there. “i didn’t hesitate.”

megan’s gasp was even louder this time, utterly scandalized by the tiny crack in your armor. she sat up straight, her grin widening, practically glowing with victory. “you totally did.”

you sighed so hard it felt like the air left your lungs in one giant rush. your shoulders slumped under the weight of what felt like an impossible conversation. you slung your bag over your shoulder, standing to leave as if you were escaping a trap.

“it’s not that deep,” you muttered, walking towards the exit, already mentally preparing for the rest of your day without this distraction.

but megan wasn’t letting you off that easy. not this time. she followed after you, her voice practically bouncing off the walls with energy. “it is that deep!”

you didn’t turn around. instead, you walked faster, trying to ignore the sound of her footsteps right behind you, the weight of her words lingering in the space between you. the only thing you could focus on was getting out of the room, away from the relentless tug of her curiosity, her insistence, her… kindness.

megan stood there for a moment, watching you walk away, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. her heart fluttered, a mix of excitement and something warmer, deeper, that she couldn’t quite place. but she knew one thing for sure—whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were being nice to her. and that meant one thing: megan wasn’t giving up anytime soon.

her eyes lingered on your retreating figure, and despite her frustration, despite the wild confusion swirling in her mind, she felt a quiet thrill. maybe, just maybe, the theory was right. maybe you weren’t as indifferent as you liked to pretend.

and that small, silly thought made her smile even wider.

the library was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional tap of a keyboard. the usual smell of books filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the café nearby. megan sat across from you, eyes glued to her textbook, her pencil moving in quick, frantic circles around the same sentence. she had been at it for a while now, but something just wasn’t clicking.

"ugh, this is impossible," she muttered under her breath, letting her head drop onto the table with a dull thud.

you didn’t respond right away, which was the usual. you were focused on your own work, barely sparing her a glance. but then, megan cracked a joke, her voice a little too loud for the quiet library.

"maybe this is just some cruel test to see how many times i can fail before i drop out of literature," she said, letting out a soft laugh. "at this point, i think they should just give me an honorary degree in 'trying my best.'"

for a moment, there was nothing but silence. and then, just as megan was about to continue her self-pitying rant, she swore she heard it. a soft scoff, just a brief exhale of amusement. but it wasn’t just any scoff—it was a scoff that almost sounded like a laugh.

megan blinked, looking up at you with wide eyes. your usual stone-faced expression was still there, but something was different. there was a faint curve to your lips, like you were holding back a smile. megan’s heart skipped a beat.

"did—did you just—?" she trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

you glanced up at her for a second, your gaze meeting hers, before quickly looking away. you didn’t say anything for a long moment, but then you spoke, voice slightly more casual than usual.

"maybe," you said, leaning back in your chair. "but if you're going to make jokes, at least make them funnier than just dropping out."

megan sat there, dumbfounded. was this real? the reader, the one who had been nothing but grumpy and aloof, was actually engaging with her? not shutting her down, not ignoring her completely, but actually talking to her?

"okay, what is happening right now?" megan asked, her voice more breathless than she meant it to be. she leaned forward, staring at you like you were some kind of puzzle she was still trying to figure out. "you’re actually responding to me. this is—this is new."

you just raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not interested in explaining yourself. "yeah, well. you’re not as unbearable as usual."

megan’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. "oh my god, i’m making progress, aren’t i?" 

she grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "i knew it. i knew i could crack you."

you let out a quiet sigh and turned your attention back to your own work. "yeah, whatever. just focus, okay? you’re still not getting this."

megan watched you for a moment, then glanced down at her textbook again. but it was hard to focus now, with you actually engaging with her. you had a way of making everything seem like it mattered, even if you didn’t say much.

she tried to concentrate on the passage, but her mind kept wandering back to you. you weren’t paying attention to her at all, your eyes fixed on your notes, but something about the way you were sitting—so casual, yet so precise—made her lose her train of thought. she caught herself staring at you, and when you glanced up for a brief moment, your eyes met hers, but neither of you said anything.

megan bit her lip, then shook her head and turned her attention back to the work in front of her.

"you’re still not focusing," you said, your voice almost too calm, too detached.

megan blinked at you. "huh? oh—yeah, sorry, just… got a little distracted."

"just get better," you hummed in response, your lips barely twitching at the corners.

megan could still feel the warmth spreading through her cheeks, her thoughts jumbled and her heart still thumping in her chest. but at least, she thought with a small, shaky smile, maybe there was a chance—just a small one—that things were changing.

megan wasn’t sure what she was expecting today, but it certainly wasn’t this.

yesterday, for the first time ever, you actually spoke to her in full sentences. not just clipped responses, not just nods—actual words. it had felt like a victory. like she was getting somewhere with you, breaking through that wall of silence and indifference you always hid behind.

but today? today, you were back to square one.

the tutor session started off fine—well, as fine as these things could be—but megan noticed almost immediately that you seemed off. your usual quiet detachment had morphed into something sharper, colder. your responses were shorter, more clipped, and there was an edge to your words she hadn’t seen before.

“wrong. try again.”

“seriously?”

“how do you not get this?”

it wasn’t that you hadn’t been blunt before, but this time, it felt different. there was no softness beneath your words, no reluctant amusement in your eyes, no tiny sighs of exasperated fondness. just coldness. detachment. complete disinterest.

an hour passed like this, and by the end of it, megan felt utterly deflated. she sat there, staring at the textbook, wondering what had gone wrong. it wasn’t like she had expected everything to suddenly be different. but yesterday had felt like progress. today? today, it felt like all that work had been for nothing.

she barely said a word as the two of you left the library, the weight of your silence heavy between you. she wasn’t even sure why she was so bummed about it—this was how you had always been. yesterday was just a fluke. a rare moment of warmth she should’ve known better than to expect again.

but then, just as she was stepping forward, something happened that completely threw her off.

without thinking, without looking up from your own thoughts, you reached out and held the door open for her. it was such an automatic gesture, so instinctual, that it completely caught her off guard. her feet nearly tripped over themselves as she walked past you, her heart skipping a beat as she blinked down at the door. she had to stop herself from looking too long, afraid that if she did, you’d notice how much the simple act affected her.

but you didn’t acknowledge it. you just stepped out of her way and continued walking toward the lecture hall like nothing had happened. megan bit her lip, trying not to smile. she’d gotten so used to the coldness, the distance, that she’d almost forgotten the little things you did without thinking.

then, when you reached the lecture hall, you did it again.

you pulled open the heavy door, held it for her, and let it linger just long enough for her to slip inside before you followed behind. she couldn’t help it—her smile widened, her cheeks flushed with warmth. she hadn’t expected this. not today, of all days. but here you were, quietly making her day a little brighter with something as simple as holding the door.

she was still trying to catch her breath when she heard a voice from near the front of the room.

“ugh, megan is so annoying,” a guy muttered loud enough for her to hear. “does she ever shut up? seriously, it’s like she doesn’t have an off switch—”

he cut himself off as soon as he saw megan walk in, his whole demeanor shifting as his gaze fell to the floor. but megan wasn’t looking at him. no, her attention was entirely on you.

because you—who had spent the last hour acting like she was barely worth your time—were now glaring at the guy. glaring like you were about to rip him to shreds. your eyes were narrowed, your entire body tense, like you were two seconds away from throwing him out of the room with nothing but your bare hands.

the guy noticed, clearly, because he quickly scoffed, trying to brush it off. “what are you looking at?”

without missing a beat, you responded, voice as dry as ever. “just wondering what it’s like to have a face like that. must be exhausting when you look like a failed experiment every day.”

megan’s jaw dropped. she hadn’t expected that. she hadn’t expected you to stand up for her, to defend her in your own... uniquely snarky way. she was still trying to process the fact that you, of all people, had spoken up when no one else did.

the guy scowled, but said nothing else. he just turned back to his notebook, no longer meeting your gaze.

but megan? she was smiling. no, scratch that. she was grinning like a complete idiot. she could feel the warmth spreading through her cheeks as she struggled to keep it together. you had just stood up for her. you. and now her heart was doing backflips in her chest.

you turned to look at her, your eyes catching her expression, and immediately scoffed.

“what are you smiling about?” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“nothing,” megan replied, her grin only growing. “just… you standing up for me was so awesome sauce.”

“maybe i should be tutoring you on how to expand your vocabulary,” you shot back, clearly unamused. but as you reached into your bag for your notebook, megan swore she saw the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

her heart fluttered at the sight. there it was again. the small cracks in your cool exterior that she was beginning to notice more and more.

she couldn’t stop herself from smiling, her gaze lingering on you for just a second longer than she should’ve. you caught her staring, of course, but you didn’t say anything. 

another tutoring session. another hour of megan dropping everything she touched. honestly, you were starting to think she did it on purpose. it was like a chaotic performance, and she was the star.

first, it was her pen. then her notebook. then—somehow—her entire bag tipped over, spilling half its contents onto the floor. every time, your reflexes kicked in before your brain even had time to process it. a quick catch, a swift grab, a sigh. you barely even looked up from your own notes anymore. it had become muscle memory at this point.

so when megan, with her usual clumsiness, nudged a book off the table, you caught it before it even had a chance to hit the ground. the soft thud of it landing in your hand was so automatic, so effortless, that it barely registered in your mind.

her gasp was so loud you thought she might actually start clapping. “you caught that? that was so cool—”

you groaned inwardly, already regretting it. “hurry up and grab it before i regret it.”

she snatched the book from your hands, still grinning like she’d just witnessed some incredible magic trick. her eyes were sparkling with that contagious enthusiasm of hers.

“you’re, like, weirdly good at that,” she teased, her voice light and playful. “i bet if i—”

“don’t,” you interrupted before she could finish, already bracing yourself for whatever absurd thing she was about to do next.

her lips twisted into a pout, but she quickly gave up on the idea, flipping the book open and skimming through the pages like she was actually going to focus for once. you could practically feel her disappointment at the lack of attention she was getting from you. but you weren’t going to indulge it. not this time.

you rolled your eyes, returning to your own notes, grateful for the quiet that surrounded you. the library was peaceful, save for the occasional scratch of pens against paper and the faint hum of whispered conversations. the kind of quiet you could almost lose yourself in.

almost.

but then came the sighing. and the shifting in her chair. and the little mutterings under her breath, all of which took every ounce of your patience not to call out. instead, you buried yourself in your work, trying to ignore the distraction she was becoming. until—

“ugh, this is so annoying,” megan groaned, her voice heavy with frustration. her pencil was gripped tightly in her hand, her brows furrowed in concentration as she stared at the paper in front of her.

you barely noticed at first. barely thought. your eyes were still glued to your notes when, without hesitation, you reached over and nudged her paper, pointing at one of the sentences. “you wrote that backwards.”

megan blinked, looking at you like you’d just spoken in another language. “wait, what?”

“your sentence,” you said, still not fully registering what you’d done. “you flipped the words.”

she tilted her head, her focus now fully on the paper, and then her eyes lit up like she’d just discovered the answer to a riddle. “oh—wait, that makes so much sense,” she said, quickly erasing the mistake and fixing it. then, her eyes widened in wonder. “how did you even notice that?”

you shrugged, doing your best to seem indifferent. “i’m your tutor for a reason.”

“oh yeah! you’re so cool for that.” she beamed, her expression full of admiration.

your face immediately shut down. you leaned back in your chair, the blank expression falling into place like an old habit. “whatever. just finish the assignment.”

but megan wasn’t even listening. she was still grinning at you, her face practically glowing with genuine delight. it wasn’t teasing, it wasn’t smug—it was just... sheer happiness. and somehow, that made everything worse. because now you were the one who couldn’t focus.

she tapped her pencil against her chin, still smiling to herself like she’d just stumbled upon the greatest discovery in the world. “huh,” she said, her voice light, as if she’d just realised something interesting.

you side-eyed her, instantly suspicious. “...what.”

her grin widened even more, her eyes sparkling with some inside joke you didn’t quite get. “nothing.”

you groaned, not quite believing her. “megan.”

“it’s nothing,” she repeated, sing-song, her tone light as air.

you gave her a look that was part confusion, part exasperation, but she only giggled in response. and then, to your surprise, she actually returned to her work. properly this time. no more fidgeting, no more sighing in frustration. she was focused. like she actually cared about finishing the assignment.

and, for some strange reason, that made you feel... weirdly satisfied. as though, by some miracle, you had actually done something right. not that you’d ever admit it, of course.

the rest of the session passed in a sort of quiet rhythm, the two of you working side by side in the same space. there was no more tension, no more fighting to keep her attention. just the sound of pens and pencils against paper, the occasional rustle of pages turning, and a subtle sense of progress hanging in the air.

when the hour came to an end, megan closed her notebook with a soft sigh of relief. “i think that’s the best i’ve done all week,” she said, her tone almost surprised, like she hadn’t expected herself to actually finish.

you glanced at her, your expression neutral, but your mind was somewhere else. somewhere... soft.

“you’re welcome,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

megan paused, her eyes widening slightly as she caught the smallest hint of a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “did you just... say ‘you’re welcome’?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

you quickly turned your attention back to your bag, making a point not to look at her. “don’t read into it,” you said, voice curt. “just finish your work next time.”

but megan, of course, couldn’t resist. she was already looking at you with that same grin, her heart still racing from the unexpected warmth she felt in that moment.

“thanks,” she said again, this time with a little more sweetness.

and for once, you didn’t roll your eyes. you didn’t snap. you just nodded, almost imperceptibly.

it was another quiet afternoon in the library, the kind of stillness that was usually peaceful but today felt oddly oppressive. you sat alone at a table, surrounded by stacks of books, your fingers absently tracing the edge of an open notebook as your thoughts drifted. the words on the page blurred in your peripheral vision, nothing but vague shapes on the paper, your mind a million miles away.

and, against your will, your thoughts landed on her. megan.

it was a thought that always seemed to catch you off guard, as if it snuck up on you when you weren’t paying attention. no matter how many times you tried to push her away, megan just didn’t stop. and it was honestly a little impressive.

most people, after a few stink eyes, a couple of blunt "leave me alone"s, would’ve backed off. they would’ve taken the hint, respected the boundaries that you had set so clearly. but not megan. she just kept trying. and it wasn’t even some grand, over-the-top persistence. no, it was simpler than that. it was consistent. she’d try again the next day. and the next. and even when it was obvious that you were being short with her, even when you gave her nothing to work with, megan would still smile, shrug, and try again. there was something almost admirable about it. but also irritating as hell.

you’d fully expected her to snap at some point, to get frustrated and give up. everyone did, eventually. everyone but her.

it wasn’t like megan was particularly charming or persistent in some over-the-top way. it was just the fact that she was always there. day after day, week after week. she showed up, smiling, ready to talk, ready to crack a joke, ready to do the thing that most people would’ve stopped doing long ago: be nice.

and, as strange as it was, it started to make you... uncomfortable. you weren’t used to people being that patient with you. most people didn’t give a damn if you were having a bad day or didn’t feel like talking. most people just went about their business, avoiding you when you pulled back, not bothering to force small talk or offer unsolicited help. 

but not megan.

it made you wonder, sometimes, if there was something more to it. something beneath the surface that megan wasn’t showing. why the hell was she doing this? why bother?

at first, it was annoying. megan’s constant smiling, her easy conversations, her attempts to reach out—it felt like an invasion. but then, it became normal. just another part of life, like the rhythm of the seasons. megan would show up, sit down next to you in class, try to talk. sometimes, she’d drop a pencil. sometimes, she’d just ask how your day was going, like it mattered.

it wasn’t a big deal. or so you thought.

but then, without realizing it, you found yourself getting used to her presence. the annoying little smile in the corner of your vision, the sound of her voice in your ears, the casual way she’d pass by your desk in the library, so familiar, so constant. it was fine.

and then something shifted in you, right there and then. you realised you didn’t actually want her to stop. the thought hit you like a lightning strike, and for a moment, you froze. you wanted her to keep showing up. you wanted her to keep being there. but that was ridiculous, right?

you couldn’t admit that. not to yourself. certainly not to her.

lost in these conflicting thoughts, you barely noticed megan until she was suddenly standing right in front of you, towering over your desk.

you blinked up at her, an eyebrow raised, clearly questioning her presence.

"i don’t recall texting you to meet here for a lesson," you said dryly, your voice flat.

megan grinned, completely unbothered. "well, you didn’t!" she said cheerfully, unphased by your sharp tone. "but i figured i’d come hang out."

you sighed, rubbing your temples as if to ward off the headache that was already beginning. "this is the library. i’m working. you’re not supposed to be here."

megan didn’t even flinch at your tone. "i’ll be quiet. promise." she sat down on the opposite side of the table, pulling out her own textbook, completely content to just be there.

for a moment, you were stunned into silence. what was this? was she really just... sitting here? you had half a mind to say something else, to tell her to leave, but the words didn’t come. instead, you muttered, almost under your breath, "you should work on your work for other classes too. or even just literature."

megan gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "erm... no thanks."

you shot her a look, as if trying to will her into leaving, but she just grinned back, wide and playful.

"you’re impossible," you muttered, leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms.

"yep," megan agreed, not missing a beat. "but it’s fun, isn’t it?"

you paused, then sighed, giving in because, well, what else could you do? you couldn’t make her leave, not when she was acting this... stubborn. "fine. just don’t make noise."

"promise!" she said, settling in with her book. now and then, she’d glance up, giving you that big, bright smile of hers.

and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but glance at her once or twice, your mind still spinning with the same impossible thought: you didn’t want her to stop.

y/n 😍😘🥰😛❤️🫶 megan THE LIVRARY IS CLOSED 😭😭😭 ITS UDNER CONSTURCTION 👿

megan typed frantically on her phone, a frown spreading on her face as she stood in front of the campus library. a sign was plastered onto the doors, a sign that read “UNDER CONSTRUCTION”.

y/n yes i am aware its been closed all day megan well i dont rlly go to the librayr so 🤷‍♀️ WAIT WHERE R WE SUPPOSED TO DO OUR TUTOR LESSONS NOW ☹️ y/n ill send u my apartment address just go up to my place and ill open the door for u megan WAIT UR APARTMENT?? WHY UR APAREMTN??? HUH

megan had never imagined she'd end up at your apartment for tutoring.

she’d expected maybe a local library as the new location for a session, maybe a coffee shop—somewhere neutral, somewhere public—but instead, here she was, standing on the fifth floor of a building she’d never been to before, double-checking the address you had sent her just minutes ago.

she had to be at the right place. the numbers on the door matched, the hallway looked exactly like the one in the picture you’d attached, and, well… it wasn’t like she had another choice now. so she took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and then it swung open, revealing someone that was very much not you.

megan blinked. "oh. uh."

the girl standing in the doorway had long, sleek black hair and sharp, cat-like eyes that seemed to gleam with amusement. she was around your height, maybe a little shorter. she leaned against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips like she already knew something megan didn’t.

"um," megan started, suddenly unsure of herself. "does y/n live here? or… am i at the wrong apartment? sorry, i’ll just—i can leave if—"

the girl chuckled, cutting off megan’s nervous rambling with a lazy grin. "y/n!" she called back into the apartment without taking her eyes off megan. "the ginger is here for you!"

megan stiffened. "the ginger?"

before she could say anything else, you appeared in the hallway, looking as unbothered as ever. "oh. you’re here."

"yeah?" megan said, giving you a seriously? look. she gestured vaguely to the girl. "who—?"

"haerin," you said, motioning lazily in her direction. "roommate. childhood friend. not really someone you needed to know about until now."

megan gawked at you. "you’re really gonna be like that?" megan asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and mild amusement.

"i’m not giving you personal details for no reason," you replied bluntly, crossing their arms.

"you’ll get used to it," haerin said, patting her shoulder before disappearing into the apartment.

megan shook her head, not sure what to say to that. "so, uh, why the lesson here?" she finally asked, hoping to change the subject.

"my place is closer to campus than any local library," you explained nonchalantly, walking past her to the kitchen area. "plus, I can bake at home."

megan almost tripped over her own feet. "you bake? why didn’t i know this!?"

"this isn’t common knowledge," you deadpanned. "so, of course, you wouldn’t know."

she huffed, plopping down at the counter while you started setting things up. as she pulled out her books, she glanced around. "your apartment is really nice," she said. "kind of big for just two people."

"keep the small talk to yourself," you muttered, already rummaging through ingredients. "just do your work."

megan ignored you, tapping her pen against her book. "so what are you baking?"

"dunno," you admitted. "i don’t have anything specific in mind."

she grinned. "make something for me."

you sighed. "anything i should know about? any food allergies?"

megan waved her hand dismissively. "nah, i’m fine." then, after a beat, casually added, "oh, i’m allergic to cinnamon."

you froze mid-motion, your face going blank as you stared at her. “and you were just going to let me figure that out on my own?”

megan shrugged, all innocent. "well, i would’ve told you if i saw you using it!"

you muttered something under your breath before very pointedly removing anything cinnamon-related from the counter.

megan’s heart did this funny thing where it fluttered, because—well, that was kind of sweet.

she tilted her head, watching you move around the kitchen. "oh, if you’re baking something for me, can it be savoury?"

you stopped what you were doing. turned to look at her. stink-eyed her.

"savoury?" you repeated. like the word itself was offensive.

"yeah!" she said, warming up to the idea. "like… i dunno, something cheesy? or maybe a pastry with some herbs—"

you narrowed your eyes. "herbs?"

"what?" she said, laughing. "you don’t like savoury pastries?"

"i do not," you said flatly. "pastries are meant to be sweet. if you want something savoury, eat a sandwich."

megan gasped, placing a hand over her chest like you’d just insulted her entire existence. "a sandwich? excuse you—"

"do your work, megan," you cut in, already turning back to your ingredients.

she pouted but eventually started working on her assignment. you baked in the background, and every now and then, she asked for help with something (and successfully distract you with random commentary).

by the time you finally handed her a plate, the smell of something sweet had filled the apartment. megan barely took a bite before making a ridiculously happy noise.

"oh my god," she moaned dramatically. "this is amazing. you’re amazing."

you just shook your head, unimpressed. "of course you’re like this."

she grinned at you, then returned to her work. only for you to casually point at her paper. "you made a mistake here."

megan blinked and looked down at her paper. "...oh."

the lecture was long, as always, but megan found herself glancing over at you more than usual. she wasn’t sure why. maybe because something felt different—small, barely noticeable, but still different. you weren’t talking much, but you were listening. actually listening.

whenever she spoke, you nodded here and there, your eyes flicking to hers when something piqued your interest. you didn’t shut her down immediately. you weren’t giving her the cold shoulder. it wasn’t much, but to megan, it felt like progress.

the moment class ended, she quickly packed up her things, hurrying to catch up with you before you could disappear into the crowd.

"so, i've got a joke," she said, grinning, practically bouncing on her feet.

you gave her a flat look, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. "what’s the joke?"

"okay, okay," she cleared her throat, doing a dramatic drumroll on her leg. "how do you tell the difference between a snow-man and a snow-woman?" she paused, barely containing her excitement. "their snowballs!"

silence.

for a second, megan thought she completely flopped, but then a scoff. quiet, barely audible, more of an exhale than a laugh. but it was something.

megan’s eyes widened. "wait—" she turned to look at you fully. "did you just laugh?"

your face immediately went blank, like you regretted even reacting. "no."

"you so did!" she pointed at you accusingly, her smile growing. "oh my god, was my joke that good?."

"it was horrible." you rolled your eyes, walking ahead. "don’t get ahead of yourself."

but megan swore she saw something—a tiny twitch at the corner of your mouth, a barely-there smile that you were definitely trying to suppress.

before she could tease you about it any further, a familiar voice called her name.

"megan!"

she turned and found her friends staring at her. well, not at her, exactly—at you.

"wait, is that y/n?" manon asked, her voice loud with disbelief.

"y/n?" sophia’s eyes darted between you and megan. "since when did she talk to you?"

megan felt her face heat up. "um. since always?"

lara snorted. "you wish. you’ve been chasing after her since the start of the semester and getting nothing back."

"not nothing," megan argued. "i’ve been making progress."

daniela narrowed her eyes. "define ‘progress’."

"well," megan hesitated, her smile twitching as she thought back to the joke. "it wasn’t exactly a laugh, per se, but it was, like… a scoff."

"they scoffed?" lara deadpanned. "that’s your progress?"

"no, no, it was a funny scoff," megan insisted. "like a mini-laugh."

daniela gasped dramatically. "you got y/n to almost laugh?"

megan bit her lip, failing to contain her excitement. "yeah. i mean… yeah, i did."

her friends exchanged glances, then collectively lost their minds.

"holy shit," manon whispered. "megan, you’re actually insane."

sophia shook her head in amazement. "we need to document this moment."

"you should’ve recorded it," daniela groaned. "proof! we need proof!"

megan just stood there, basking in the ridiculousness of it all. her friends were treating this like she had just tamed some wild beast, but honestly? she kinda got it.

because, for the first time, she wasn’t just throwing herself against a wall, hoping it would budge. today, something had shifted, just a little. something real.

she glanced back at you, who was already a few steps ahead, pretending to be unbothered by all of this.

but megan saw the way your hand twitched, like you were suppressing the urge to shove them off and walk faster. and she swore—just for a second—she saw that almost-smile again.

the apartment was quiet today, the kind of quiet that made megan’s own thoughts feel louder. she sat at the kitchen counter, flipping through her notes, while you leaned against the opposite side, scrolling through your own work.

the library was still under construction, so your apartment had become the temporary tutoring spot. megan liked it better here, even if she wouldn’t admit it. it felt different. less cold, somehow. but today, she felt the weight of your gaze more than usual. it wasn’t like you to stare, but she could feel it—quick, sharp glances every time she hesitated over a word, every time her pencil hovered over the page for a little too long.

she tried to ignore it, focusing on the assignment in front of her. but the more she tried, the more aware she became of every little thing—

the way she had to reread sentences to make sure they made sense. the way she mixed up letters when she was writing too fast. the way she avoided reading things aloud unless she absolutely had to.

you weren’t just staring. you were noticing.

"ugh," she groaned, leaning back in her chair, rubbing at her temples. "why is this so hard?"

"because you’re not paying attention," you said, not looking up from your own work.

"i am paying attention," she huffed. "it’s just—the words are, like, fighting me."

you flicked your eyes to her notebook, scanning the page. your voice was casual, but the question you asked next made her freeze.

"you ever been tested for dyslexia?"

her stomach dropped. she gripped her pencil a little tighter. "uh. why?"

you shrugged, eyes still on your work. "just wondering."

but megan wasn’t stupid. she knew what that meant. you had figured it out.

she forced a laugh, hoping to change the subject. "are you sure you’re here to tutor me? or did you just want an excuse to get to know me better?"

you gave her a blank stare. "megan. you’re failing."

"okay, rude," she muttered, sinking lower into her seat.

you didn’t press the dyslexia thing any further. and for that, she was grateful. but she could tell you knew now. and even worse? she could tell you cared.

it wasn’t anything obvious. just little things.

when you handed her a new worksheet, the font was bigger than before. when she hesitated over a word, you didn’t rush her. when she fumbled a sentence, you rephrased it instead of making her repeat it.

you never brought it up. never pointed it out. but megan noticed. and it made her stomach do that weird, fluttery thing again.

at some point, she tapped her fingers against the counter and mused, "you know, if you’re gonna make me work this hard, the least you could do is make me a snack."

you raised an eyebrow. "a snack?"

"yeah, you should put your baking skills to use again," she propped her chin on her palm. "make me something."

you scoffed. "what do i look like, your personal chef?"

"c’mon, pleaaaase?" she gave you her best puppy eyes.

you groaned, but she could tell you were already giving in. "fine. what do you want?"

she hummed, pretending to think. "something savory this time."

you stopped mid-motion, turning to stare at her like she had just cursed you out. "savory? in baking?"

"yeah?" she blinked innocently. "what? you still don’t like savory pastries?"

"absolutely not." your face twisted in pure disgust. "i refuse."

megan snorted, watching you pull out ingredients anyway. "wow, okay, didn’t realise you had such strong opinions on this."

"because it’s wrong," you deadpanned. "savory baking should not exist."

she grinned as you begrudgingly started gathering supplies. she wasn’t getting a savory pastry, but she was getting something. and that was enough.

when you eventually set a plate down in front of her, she took a bite and let out an exaggeratedly happy sigh. "you’re just too good."

you rolled your eyes, but she caught the tiny quirk of your lips before you turned away.

megan never thought she’d actually get here. when she first met you, you barely spoke to her. your responses were cold, clipped, uninterested. you shut down almost every attempt she made at befriending you, and you never gave her any encouragement during your tutoring sessions. all business, all the time. but that was months ago.

now, sitting in english class, staring down at the grade on her assignment, she could hardly believe it.

she actually did well.

"holy shit," she breathed, blinking at the paper in her hands. she read the grade again. then again. her heart thumped in her chest, excitement rising like a tide. "i actually passed?"

you, sitting next to her, barely looked up from your own paper. "you didn’t just pass," you said flatly. "you did well."

megan stared at you, her grin breaking across her face. "i did well." she turned back to her paper. "oh my god, i actually did well!"

you sighed, but she caught it—the way the corners of your lips twitched, the way your eyes flickered with something warm before you turned back to your notes. but megan wasn’t letting this go. she poked your arm. "you’re totally proud of me."

you rolled your eyes. "bare minimum isn’t worth being proud of."

"wow." she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "you wound me."

you huffed, but she saw it again—another twitch of your lips. and that? that was enough for her to claim victory.

"c’mon, we have to celebrate."

you barely had time to register the day before you realised you were in your apartment again, and megan was pushing her way in, a cheap bottle of champagne in one hand and two plastic cups in the other.

you sighed, rubbing your temple. "megan, it’s just one assignment."

"one assignment that proves i am a genius," she declared, setting the bottle on the counter. "and guess what? i owe it all to you!"

you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. "so your plan is to get drunk over one good grade?"

"okay, first of all, it’s, like, barely alcoholic. second of all, this is a huge deal for me!" she shot you her best pleading look. "just one drink? to celebrate?"

you stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "fine. one drink."

megan cheered, dramatically pouring the fizzy liquid into the cups like she was some kind of sommelier. she handed you one, then clinked her cup against yours with a grin. "to the best english tutor ever."

"bare minimum," you reminded her, but you still tapped your cup against hers before taking a sip.

"oh, admit it," megan teased, leaning against the counter, her eyes gleaming. "you’re at least a little happy for me."

you didn’t answer. not verbally, at least. but there was something in the way you looked at her, something that softened just enough to give you away.

and somewhere in between her rambling, you smiled. without thinking, without meaning to. because for once, she wasn’t struggling, wasn’t frustrated or defeated. she was just happy.

and for some reason, that made you happy, too.

later, after the mini celebration had died down, you were both in your room, books and notes spread across your bed. megan sat cross-legged, absently twirling a pen between her fingers. you were hunched over your laptop, typing away at something for another class.

she sighed dramatically, flopping backward onto your mattress. "you know," she mused, staring up at the ceiling, "with this mark, i don’t think i need a tutor anymore."

you didn’t even look up from your laptop. "trust me, you still have a long way to go. this one mark is nothing."

megan smirked, tilting her head toward you. "sounds like you don’t want to get rid of me."

you sighed, closing your laptop, and without a word, you dropped onto the bed beside her.

megan blinked, her heart skipping, caught off guard by the sudden shift. she turned her head to look at you, and—oh.

you were already looking at her. not glaring, not annoyed—just looking. it was the kind of look she never would’ve gotten from you a few months ago.

"yeah," you murmured, voice softer than she’d ever heard it. "maybe i don’t."

megan’s breath caught. she should say something. she should. but all she could do was smile.

it happened again. you weren’t even surprised at this point.

megan had arrived at your apartment for another tutoring session, her arms overflowing with notebooks and snacks, a familiar grin stretching across her face. "i swear i'm staying awake this time," she had declared, full of confidence that, frankly, she didn’t deserve.

you just raised an eyebrow. "sure."

you both started off strong—actual studying, actual work being done—but as always, it didn’t last.

the transition was always the same: she’d start fidgeting, then rambling about something completely unrelated, then eventually lean back against your bed, stretching out like she belonged there.

"my brain is melting," she groaned at some point, tossing her pen onto the floor dramatically. 

"five-minute break?"

you gave her a look. "you say five, but we both know you’re gonna pass out."

"nuh-uh," she mumbled, already shifting to get more comfortable. "i'm wide awake—"

and then she was gone. out like a light, sprawled across your mattress, her notes slipping from her fingers.

you sighed, running a hand down your face. "unbelievable."

at first, you used to try. you used to shake her shoulder, nudge her arm, call her name. but now?

it wasn’t worth the effort. instead, you just leaned back against the bed frame, letting silence settle over the room. your eyes flickered to the chair in the corner, where an extra pillow sat neatly, a spare blanket draped over the backrest.

your gaze drifted back to megan, her breathing slow and steady. you exhaled, closing your eyes for just a second. and then you were asleep, too.

when you stirred awake, the room was dimmer, bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun.

you blinked blearily, adjusting to the light. then, as your brain slowly switched back on, you noticed something.

megan had moved. still asleep, but no longer sprawled out carelessly. instead, she had curled in on herself, her arms tucked close, her entire body subtly shivering.

you stared. then, without thinking, you moved.

with a quiet sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed, padding over to the chair. the blanket was soft beneath your fingers as you pulled it free, walking back to where megan lay.

you hesitated for only a second before draping it over her, making sure it covered her completely.

she mumbled something, shifting slightly, and for a moment, you thought she had woken up. but then she just buried herself deeper into the warmth, her shivers gradually subsiding.

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you sat back down. you weren’t soft. this wasn’t a big deal. but when megan woke up the next morning, she didn’t mention the blanket. she just smiled.

the doorbell rang, pulling you out of your half-dazed thoughts. you weren’t expecting anyone, not today. you had planned to rest after a morning filled with back-to-back classes. but then you heard the unmistakable sound of haerin’s voice calling out from the living room.

"oh, it's you," megan's voice came in, followed by a cheerful laugh. "thanks for letting me in, haerin."

you didn’t think much of it at first, letting your eyes slip closed again, trying to tune out the noise of megan’s excited chatter with haerin. the sound of the door closing reached them faintly, and you felt a slight tug in your chest.

what was that?

you shook your head, trying to focus on sleeping again, but it was hard to ignore the growing noise in the apartment. megan and haerin were talking. megan laughing, haerin responding with one of her dry remarks. it felt oddly louder than usual.

the weight on your chest shifted, becoming a small discomfort.

it wasn’t like you were particularly close to megan yet. yet, hearin megan laugh so easily with haerin, without any hesitation, it tugged at something inside you.

but that didn’t matter. you’d just rest. megan could do whatever she wanted.

then, the soft creak of your bedroom door interrupted your thoughts.

megan was standing there, staring at you. her smile faltered for a moment as her eyes scanned over the bed. 

"you, uh... sleeping?" she asked hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure whether to interrupt or not.

haerin's voice echoed faintly from the hallway, "yeah, y/n’s had a long day, don’t bother hertoo much."

megan nodded in understanding, quietly stepping into the room. she took a moment to observe you. you had your eyes shut and you were lying on your side. your body seemed relaxed, no tense muscles, no scowls. megan couldn’t help but notice how different you looked when you weren’t glaring at her, how soft your face appeared.

it felt like a privilege to see you like this—calm, unguarded. she caught herself staring at the curve of your lips, the peaceful rhythm of your breathing. she couldn’t help but inch closer, wondering what it would be like to be this close without the usual tension. she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to—

"you know i’m awake, right?"

your voice was low, slightly groggy, but sharp enough to catch megan off guard. megan blinked, looking away quickly, her cheeks burning. "uh, sorry, i didn’t—"

you opened one eye, giving her a look that was equal parts amused and irritated. 

"you’re basically burning a hole in my skull," you muttered, raising an arm to cover your eyes as if shielding themselves from the world.

megan’s heart was pounding in her chest. "i wasn’t—"

"whatever," you grumbled in response. “are you here for tutoring?”

“yeah, i hope it’s ok i showed up without notice.” megan replied.

you hummed in response as you kept your eyes shut. "just do whatever for a few minutes. i need to get ready for the lesson."

"okay," megan agreed, her voice a little quieter now as she stood up. she glanced back at you, already adjusting yourself on the bed, completely unfazed.

she made her way out to the living room, where haerin was sitting with both a laptop and ipad opened on the table.

"hey, haerin," megan called, taking a seat next to her.

"hey," haerin responded, her eyes flickering up briefly before returning to the screen. "you want to play?"

megan grinned. "is that roblox? hell yeah i wanna play!"

within moments, they were laughing, both of them completely absorbed in the game. megan was animated, laughing loudly whenever something funny happened, nudging haerin playfully with each win. the two seemed to click effortlessly, bantering back and forth like old friends.

and that’s when it started to happen.

you stood in the doorway, arms crossed over their chest, watching the two of them with a mix of irritation and confusion.

you hadn’t intended to linger, but something about seeing megan, that laugh, that carefree attitude—something about it was unsettling.

"are you here to study or play roblox?" you muttered, your voice low, though sharp enough to catch their attention.

megan, still giggling, didn’t even look up. "huh? oh, right. studying. one sec—haerin just shot me in arsenal, i need a rematch."

you clenched your jaw without thinking, feeling something twist inside. "arsenal can't be that fun," you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

but haerin noticed. she looked up, a smirk forming on her lips. "jealous?" she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

"of you? as if," you snapped back, your eyes narrowing.

haerin’s smirk only widened. "sure, whatever you say."

meanwhile, megan was so wrapped up in the game, in the laughs, that she didn't catch the tension building up in the room. she nudged haerin again, laughing at some silly moment in the game. it was like they had known each other forever.

you, standing in the kitchen with arms crossed, could feel something boiling just beneath the surface. the irritation, the discomfort—it was building. but you couldn’t quite place why it bothered you so much.

it was just megan, just haerin, right?

and yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being left out. it made no sense. it shouldn’t matter. megan and haerin were fine together.

but for some reason, watching them interact like that felt wrong.

the evening was supposed to be productive. megan had shown up again, arms full—notes in one hand, snacks in the other, and that same bright grin she always wore like it was stitched onto her face. and for once, she was actually prepared to work. but then, of course, it happened again.

her laugh echoed in the living room. "hey, haerin, did my outfit eat or did it eat?" she asked, bubbly and carefree like she didn’t have anything to study for.

you groaned under your breath, flipping open your book, as if pretending to focus could somehow override the noise bouncing off your walls.

this was becoming a routine. not the kind you liked. you were supposed to be tutoring megan. instead, you sat there, listening to megan and haerin giggling over roblox like they were middle schoolers at a sleepover.

you clenched your jaw, trying to force your focus back onto the pages in front of you. but the constant giggles and chatter coming from the two made it impossible to concentrate.

"megan, i swear, if you don’t stop in five minutes," you warned, fingers tightening around the edge of the book.

five minutes passed. you slammed the book shut a little harder than you meant to. the sound cracked through the apartment like a warning shot.

"forget it. i’m done," you grumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

"wait, what?" megan called from the living room, her voice startled, but you didn’t answer. didn’t look. didn’t breathe. just walked straight to your room and closed the door behind you. not slammed. just firmly shut.

megan blinked after you, stunned. she turned to haerin, who was sipping from a soda can like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"is she okay?" megan asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

haerin looked at her over the rim of her cup, her expression completely deadpan. "she's pouting."

"pouting??" megan's eyes widened. she looked back toward the bedroom door where reader had disappeared, her heart a little confused. pouting? like a child?

"yep," haerin confirmed, completely nonchalant. "you’re paying more attention to me than her. it’s kinda funny, actually."

megan’s face turned bright red almost instantly. "what? no, that’s not—i mean, i’m just playing! it’s roblox! you can’t even focus while playing roblox, right? it’s like a brainless game!*"

haerin just shrugged, unbothered. "whatever you say. but it’s pretty obvious that she’s annoyed. she’s been giving you the stink-eye whenever you laugh too loud."

"i—uh—what do i do?" megan asked, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. she felt a little nervous, unsure if she had done something wrong without realizing it.

"nothing," haerin replied simply, grinning mischievously. "just let her sulk for a bit. she'll get over it."

megan stood there awkwardly, now completely aware of the fact that reader was in their room pouting over something so small. it felt ridiculous to be worried, but she couldn’t help it. she felt bad, like she had done something wrong.

"i’ll go talk to her," megan said quickly, already moving toward the door.

"you do that," haerin called after her, still drinking her soda with an amused look on her face.

megan hesitated at the door, taking one last glance at haerin. "thanks for... uh... you know, telling me?" she mumbled, then quickly headed to reader’s room.

but you weren’t the type to just “get over it.” megan realised that the second she stood in front of your door, hand poised to knock, and found it locked.

"let me in, please! i’m sorry! i’ll study, i promise!" she whined, knocking like her life depended on it.

there was a long pause before the door creaked open, your expression looking like you were willing to kill someone right that second—megan just hoped she wasn't a potential victim. 

"you should be making that promise to yourself," you said, voice flat, "because you putting off studying doesn’t affect me in any way."

"why’d you storm off like that?" she asked, eyes big with concern.

you crossed your arms, stepping aside to let her in. "the two of you were being too loud while i was trying to get you to study," you replied, the words low and flat. "it’s kind of hard to have you focus when all you’re doing is laughing and... whatever other nonsense."

megan bit her lip, feeling an ache in her chest. she hadn’t meant to cause that kind of distraction. "oh..."

"just go ahead and sit down," reader added, opening the door wider and sitting onto their bed. "we can start the lesson when you’re ready.”

megan sat at the edge of the mattress, unusually quiet, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. the air between you felt thick—like neither of you really knew how to bridge the gap that had formed.

finally, she cleared her throat. "hey, um... are you mad at me?"

you didn’t even look at her. "no."

"then let me ask again—why’d you storm off like that?" she said, her voice small but persistent.

you exhaled through your nose, pressing your fingers to your temple. "because you were supposed to be studying, not—" you stopped yourself, jaw tight.

she waited.

"not ignoring me," you finished, voice barely above a whisper.

the room went quiet. you could feel her staring at you, and god, you already regretted saying anything. you hated this feeling—the way your chest felt exposed, like she could see every thought in your head.

"sooooo," she grinned, eyes twinkling, "you were jealous."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "get out."

she just laughed, bright and musical, the sound of someone who knew they had won. "what happened to the whole ‘i have to study’ thing?" she teased, standing up like she might actually leave.

"fine," you muttered. "you can stay. just shut up about it."

she plopped back down beside you with the biggest smile on her face, her heart hammering. you didn’t look at her, but you could feel the warmth creeping into your ears.

and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t really mind her being here at all.

you were walking to class with megan again, the morning air crisp and clinging to the edges of your hoodie sleeves. not that it mattered much—you weren’t wearing your hoodie.

megan was.

it hung a bit too big on her, sleeves drooping past her wrists, hood swallowing her whole if she tugged it up. but she wore it like it was made for her. like she belonged in it.

"your hoodies are literally the comfiest things in the world," megan said, voice muffled as she buried her chin into the collar. "like seriously, what fabric is this? cloud? dream? heaven?"

you shot her a sideways glance, unimpressed. "cotton."

she laughed, light and unbothered, her grin tugging at your chest in that way it always did now. "okay, ms. buzzkill. i'm just saying i should sleep over more often. this hoodie is the best part of my morning."

you gave her a deadpan glance. "you basically sleep over every night."

she didn’t even deny it. she nodded like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “yeah, and?”

you sighed through your nose. “do you even remember what your dorm looks like?”

“wow, so concerned for my well-being,” she said with a teasing smile. “should i be flattered?”

you shook your head. “i’m concerned because you might as well have moved in.”

megan laughed at that, the sound light and free. “lara’s actually started noticing. she keeps asking where i’ve been kidnapped to every night. i just tell her i’m at a friend’s.”

you stuffed your hands in your pockets. “funny. didn’t know i counted as a friend.”

“you don’t,” she shot back easily, nudging your arm with hers. “you’re more like a permanent grump with an open-door policy.”

“sounds about right.”

“still,” she added, voice softening just a bit, “you don’t exactly kick me out either.”

you stared ahead, silent.

“wait,” she said suddenly, eyes sparkling as she turned to you, “are you saying you like having me around?”

you shot her the coldest, deadliest side-eye you could muster. “i didn’t say anything. if anything, i’d say you’re over too often. it’s annoying.”

she just beamed, unaffected. “you never complain when i’m actually over though.”

“doesn’t mean i’m not silently suffering.”

“mmm,” she hummed, bumping your shoulder again, “but you love me.”

“since when did i say that?”

“you didn’t,” she grinned. “but if i was that annoying, you wouldn’t let me hang around so much. you’d lock the door. stop answering texts. ghost me.”

you rolled your eyes. “i do ghost you.”

“yeah, for like twenty minutes. then you reply with ‘what.�� that’s affection in your language.”

you didn’t respond right away. just kept walking, the campus around you gradually filling with other students. your silence made megan glance up at you, curious. 

you slowed your pace, glanced at her. the wind tousled her hair just enough to make her look like something out of a dream. you looked away before your brain could short-circuit completely.

then you said it—quiet, almost under your breath, but clear enough that she caught every syllable.

“okay then. point proven. maybe i do.”

megan blinked. then her eyes went wide, lips parting in surprise. and you regretted it immediately. almost. not quite.

but the way she looked at you made something inside your chest squeeze, like it was folding into itself and blooming all at once.

you didn’t even realize you’d slowed to a stop again until she stepped closer, brushing your arm with hers. she was still wearing your hoodie. she still smelled like your laundry detergent. and she was still staring at you like you’d just rewritten her entire universe.

"you—" she started, but the words stumbled off her tongue.

you raised a brow, leaned in slightly. "me?"

her cheeks burned. she didn’t say anything. just stared at you for a second too long.

you glanced at her lips.

why the hell were they so—

nope. you looked away. cleared your throat. speed-walked three steps ahead like you hadn’t been caught absolutely staring.

megan caught up easily, giddy and way too smug. “guess this nonchalant nerd isn’t so nonchalant after all,” she sang softly.

“i will literally throw you into a bush,” you muttered.

she laughed again, bright and easy, like it didn’t even register that you’d said something vaguely threatening.

you reached the doors of your shared literature class and you held the door open for her without saying anything. megan bumped your shoulder as she passed, still smiling like she’d won a game you hadn’t agreed to play.

and maybe she had.

you didn’t have another class until the late afternoon, so after the literature lecture, you headed back to the apartment, your hoodie—which you stole back from megan—still warm from the walk and mind already craving silence. haerin was by the door, slipping on her shoes with one hand and holding a half-bitten granola bar in the other.

“thought you had class all day,” she said without looking up.

“not 'til three,” you replied, kicking your shoes off and dragging yourself past her.

she popped the last bite of granola into her mouth. “must be nice.”

“mm.” you headed to your room.

haerin paused before leaving, squinting at you over her shoulder. “by the way, megan left something in there. i think.”

“what?”

“some giant bag thing. dunno. probably her entire closet.”

you opened your door and yeah—there it was. a duffle bag in the corner, looking way too familiar. you stared at it, blinking slowly, before your phone buzzed.

meganmegan heyyy i think i left my dance stuff in ur room LOL sorry 😭😭 can i come get it?

you looked at the bag. then at the text. then back at the bag.

y/n i’ll bring it.

her response came instantly.

megan WHAT REALLY? ure actually the best omg thank u i love u forever

you sighed, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. of course she was dramatic. and of course you were going to bring it anyway.

the campus was buzzing again by the time you got back, students weaving in and out of buildings like ants on a mission. you hated being part of the chaos, but whatever. she forgot her stuff. it’s not like you were doing this because you wanted to see her or anything. you were just being responsible.

you found the dance building easily. the music was already echoing faintly from the open studio windows. when you peeked inside, it took two seconds for megan to spot you.

she ran over like a golden retriever, eyes wide, messy bun bouncing.

“you brought it!!” she beamed, practically snatching the bag from your hands. “you’re actually the best person alive.”

“you forgot it,” you said plainly.

“yeah but you brought it.”

behind her, a voice called out. “megan! hurry up! warm-ups are starting!”

megan turned briefly to wave back, then looked at you again, her face lit with gratitude. “seriously, thank you.”

you nodded, already stepping back to leave—until she suddenly hugged you. tight. warm. her arms wrapped around your middle like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you froze a bit. but you didn’t pull away.

“thanks again,” she said, pulling back slightly only to lean up and press a kiss to your cheek. “you’re the best.”

and then she was gone. running back to her studio with a quick wave, bag slung over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

you just stood there.

the spot where her lips had touched your cheek buzzed like static. your brain stalled. you weren’t sure how to feel—because wow, that was something.

behind her, you caught sight of the voice from before—daniela, you think—pointing at megan with a wide grin.

“i’m so telling the group chat!” she yelled.

“shut up!” megan shouted back, smacking her in the arm, face redder than the dance floor mats.

you blinked, still rooted in place. you weren’t sure what that feeling was. it was warm. light. confusing. soft.

and you hated how much you didn’t hate it.

it was sometime in the late afternoon, that strange hour where the sun was lazy and the air sat too still. you should’ve been relaxing—maybe finishing up that one book for literature or taking a nap, anything except what you were doing now.

which was pacing.

you were pacing back and forth in the hallway like a maniac until you spun on your heel and stormed straight into haerin’s room without knocking. she was lying on her bed, phone in hand, legs swaying absently in the air. the glow of her screen lit up her blank expression.

“stop texting your girlfriend,” you announced dramatically, arms crossed. “i’m in a crisis.”

haerin didn’t even flinch. “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“yet,” you shot back.

“what’s the crisis this time?”

you dropped yourself onto her beanbag chair like a sack of unresolved feelings. “megan.”

haerin blinked. “shocking.”

“i’m serious. she just—she just barged into my life. i had walls. like really tall, impenetrable ones. and she just climbed them. no, she sprinted up them like some kinda golden retriever ninja hybrid.”

haerin snorted. “she did do that, yeah.”

“it was annoying at first,” you continued, flopping your head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. “she clung to me like a leech. always smiling, always talking, always asking me to hang out. i thought it’d stop after a few days. but it didn’t. and now... now i can’t even force myself to hate her. like, i tried. but i physically can’t.”

“so basically what i’m hearing is,” haerin said, her voice as dry as the desert, “you like megan.”

“well yeah, of course i like megan. why else would i tolerate her? she’s a really good friend.”

haerin turned her head slowly. “no. like. you like like her.”

you blinked. “...ohhh.”

haerin raised an eyebrow.

“oh,” you said again, but slower, softer. “oh god.”

your brain went somewhere else entirely. all at once it hit you—megan’s stupidly pretty face, her laugh, her clingy hugs, the way she beamed at you whenever you did the smallest thing for her. and then that kiss on the cheek. the one that left you frozen like a glitching NPC in the hallway, your soul ascending somewhere above campus.

“i’m doomed,” you whispered.

“you’re down bad,” haerin corrected.

“what do i do?” you sat up, sudden and desperate. “do i confess? do i write her a poem? do i bake her something? oh god, she has an allergy, what if i kill her by accident—”

“relax,” haerin cut in. “start small.”

“like...?”

“movie night. invite her over. keep it casual. flirty but chill. and if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get another kiss on the cheek.”

you looked at her like she’d just handed you a secret spell. “movie night.”

“that’s what i said.”

you didn’t even wait another second. phone out. fingers flying. heart racing. before your logic could ruin everything, you typed:

megan y/n hey. wanna come over for a movie night?

message sent. now all you could do was stare at the screen and wait. and maybe scream into haerin’s pillow if she didn’t answer fast enough.

sophia’s apartment was always home to the group. megan liked it here. it was clean in a way her dorm with lara never quite managed to be, and it had this warm, lived-in feel that made her relax the second she stepped inside. pillows on the couch. half-done puzzle on the coffee table. someone’s socks dangling off the armrest like a lazy flag of surrender.

manon was flopped on the rug like a dying starfish, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. daniela sat cross-legged beside her, braiding her own hair and unbraiding it five seconds later. lara had claimed the good chair, arms crossed, smirking whenever anyone said something stupid. sophia was busy cutting up fruit in the kitchen while giving passive-aggressive reminders about not staining her couch again.

and then there was yoonchae—curled up on the edge of the couch with a whole aura of “i’m the youngest and therefore the main character”. she was flicking through tiktok at an ungodly speed, snorting every now and then. she hadn’t said much, but everyone knew she was quietly storing ammunition for the next roast session.

megan sat between lara’s chair and daniela’s foot, hugging a pillow to her chest. she wasn’t really participating in the conversation—just nodding, humming, giving a tight little laugh here and there. her mind was somewhere else. or more accurately, someone else.

it didn’t take long for the group to catch on.

“okay, spill,” daniela said, pointing a hairbrush at megan like a sword. “you’ve been zoning out for the past twenty minutes. you’ve laughed at literally nothing twice.”

“and you haven’t said a single word about your mystery roommate,” manon added, stretching like a cat. “you’re never this quiet when it comes to her.”

megan blinked. “she’s not my roommate, i still room with lara.”

“whatever. you haven’t slept in your bed in weeks,” lara muttered.

“you okay?” sophia called from the kitchen.

megan opened her mouth to say yes. then stopped. then groaned loudly and collapsed backwards onto the floor like she was dying. 

“okay. okay, fine. i’ve been freaking out.”

“duh,” yoonchae said, not looking up from her phone.

“about y/n?” sophia guessed gently.

megan covered her face. “yes. ugh. yes. oh my god.”

“what happened?” lara asked, suddenly alert.

daniela gasped. “is this about the kiss??”

“shh!!” megan hissed, but it was too late.

every head in the room snapped toward her.

yoonchae looked up. “you kissed her?!”

“on the cheek!” megan said quickly, sitting up like that made it less scandalous. “it was just—like—a thank-you hug. and then it just... happened.”

“you kissed her on the cheek and dipped?” manon asked. “you drive-by kissed her??”

“it was instinct!!” megan cried.

daniela raised her hand like she was in school. “i was there. i saw it happen. full contact. zero hesitation. i felt like i was intruding.”

“oh my god,” lara muttered, rubbing her eyes. “and now you’re spiraling because...?”

“because she didn’t say anything!” megan groaned. “she just stood there. frozen. like a statue. and now it’s been, like, a week. and we’ve talked a little but not about that. and i don’t know if i overstepped or freaked her out or ruined everything—”

“megan,” sophia said, coming into the living room with a bowl of fruit. “sweetheart. breathe.”

megan took the tiniest breath possible and went straight back to panicking. “i like her, okay? like... like her. she’s funny in that really dry way. and when she’s kind, she’s so casually kind it makes me wanna explode. she held the door open for me once and i almost tripped. and i know she acts like she’s annoyed all the time, but i see her, y’know? like really see her. she’s not mean. she’s just... shy. and kind of grumpy. but soft. and nice. and i kissed her on the cheek and now i feel like maybe she thinks i crossed a line and—”

her phone buzzed. she cut herself off mid-rant and looked down.

y/n 😍😘🥰😛❤️🫶 y/n hey.  wanna come over for a movie night?

megan stared at it. her thumb hovered over the keyboard, typing: “i’d love to but i’m actually with the girls rn”

then she paused.

yoonchae leaned in from over her shoulder like the cryptid she was. “what’s that?”

megan jumped. “nothing—!”

yoonchae snatched the phone, eyes scanning the message. “are you seriously about to say no to this? oh my god, go. go hang out with your girlfriend.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!!” megan squeaked, reaching for her phone.

“yet,” lara said smugly.

sophia smiled knowingly. “you do want to see her, right?”

megan nodded slowly. “...yeah.”

“then go,” daniela said, already getting up. “we’ll survive a night without you.”

“barely,” manon added dramatically.

before megan could change her mind, daniela and yoonchae were literally herding her toward the front door.

“go. now.”

“be with your girlfriend!”

“again she’s not my girlfriend!!”

“whatever you say!”

the door slammed behind her with finality. a second later, it creaked open again and sophia peeked out, soft smile on her face.

“be safe,” she said.

megan blinked at her, heart racing. then she looked down at her phone, took a deep breath, and quickly typed away on her keyboard.

y/n 😍😘🥰😛❤️🫶 megan omw now :)

you were in the middle of shaking the pot on the stove when the knock came. butter sizzled against metal, cinnamon sugar catching in the warm air like a whisper. haerin had left earlier that evening, muttering something about "studying" at danielle’s place with a face that said otherwise. you didn’t question it. you just waved her off and went back to stressing over whether titanic was a bad movie choice.

the knock came again, followed by a familiar voice. “helloooo? it smells like movie night in here.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest eased. “door’s open.”

megan stepped inside like she belonged there, like she always did lately. her eyes lit up at the scent. “popcorn? wow, what a warm welcome.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said, scooping popcorn into two bowls. “i was gonna make this anyway.”

“sure you were,” she teased, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “what’s the occasion? did you want to see me that badly?”

you handed her the bowl without looking at her. “what if i say yes?”

she blinked, stunned for a second, then laughed a little too loud. “uh—well—wow. bold.”

you shrugged. “you asked.”

megan plopped down on the couch with a grin, still trying to play it cool. “where’s haerin, by the way? figured she’d be glued to the screen, mocking whatever we choose.”

“probably at her girlfriend’s,” you said offhandedly, grabbing your bowl of cinnamon popcorn and flopping beside her.

“girlfriend?? since when??” her jaw dropped.

you looked at her from the corner of your eye, half amused. “are you here to watch movies with me or catch up on haerin’s love life?”

she laughed again, quieter this time. “fine, fine. just curious.”

the two of you settled on a random movie—titanic, of all things. you landed on it after scrolling endlessly and letting megan say “stop” at the perfect moment. she claimed it was fate. you claimed she just had bad taste.

you argued over every scene. she called jack dumb. you defended him. she sniffled when rose said she’d never let go. you pretended not to notice.

you sat close, closer than usual. the popcorn bowls balanced on your laps. you refused to let her share yours—not that you were mean, but because hers was made without cinnamon, and yours was not. and megan, well…

“you’re allergic, remember?” you said when she reached over.

“oh right,” she mumbled, sheepish.

somewhere between the iceberg and the heart of the ocean, megan shifted beside you. you didn’t notice at first. you were still chewing on the last of the cinnamon popcorn, half watching the screen, half listening to her breathing next to you.

the movie kept playing, but neither of you were really watching anymore. not really.

titanic had faded into background noise—the swell of music, the distant crackle of a sinking ship, the quiet sniffles megan tried to hide every now and then. her body was turned slightly toward you now, knees tucked up onto the couch, shoulder brushing yours whenever she shifted. her bowl of normal popcorn was long forgotten on the coffee table. yours sat now empty in your lap, cinnamon-sweet and warm between your fingers. there was a strange silence between the two of you. not awkward, not really. just heavy. charged.

you didn’t know what to say. didn’t know why you were suddenly too aware of how close she was, how the lights from the movie flickered in her eyes like firelight. she looked soft. softer than usual. and quiet.

the room had gone still. titanic played on, something tragic unfolding on screen, but the only thing you could focus on was the girl beside you.

megan was quiet, her eyes flicking toward you every so often, like she was trying to gather the courage to say something. she hugged a throw pillow to her chest, but her knee kept bumping yours like her body couldn’t help reaching for you even if her words hadn’t caught up yet.

then, finally, she spoke.

"hey," she said, barely louder than a whisper. "can i tell you something?"

you gave her a slow look, guarded. "you’re gonna tell me either way.”

she smiled, a small one. kind of nervous. “true.”

you waited.

and then she said it. “i like you.”

your brain flatlined.

“what?” you blinked, like maybe you heard her wrong, like maybe you glitched and that wasn’t real.

megan wasn’t laughing. she wasn’t teasing or being dramatic. she just looked at you, wide-eyed and a little breathless, like the words had taken more out of her than she expected.

“i like you,” she said again. “like... more than just friends.”

your mouth went dry. you stared at her. the air shifted, everything inside you going still and bright and loud. megan’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a split second before darting back to your eyes.

“can i kiss you?” she asked, soft. “like... actually kiss you?”

your chest thudded once, hard.

your throat caught, but you still managed to nod—slow, unsure, but real. and that was all she needed.

she leaned in and kissed you.

it was gentle, a little hesitant, her fingers brushing your knee like she was afraid you’d vanish if she moved too fast. her lips were warm and soft and everything in you went quiet, stunned stupid in the best and worst way. and then she pulled back.

your eyes stayed closed for half a second longer than they should’ve. when you opened them, megan was already watching you, waiting. you blinked. hard.

“…dude.”

she looked nervous again. “what? too fast?”

“no, it’s just…” you stared at your popcorn bowl, then at her mouth. “you’re allergic to cinnamon.”

megan tilted her head, puzzled. “…okay?”

“i was eating cinnamon popcorn.”

“ohhh,” she said, dragging the sound out like a revelation. then she smiled, mischievous and smug. “no wonder your lips tasted like cinnamon.”

you flushed. actually flushed. your ears felt like they were on fire. “don’t say stuff like that.”

she laughed, clearly proud of herself, and her eyes dipped to your mouth again. it was so obvious she was about to lean in for another kiss—you could feel it in the air, the way she was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the universe.

you held a hand up between you, flustered and very much panicking. “no—hey—you should not be kissing me right now. i had cinnamon.”

megan just grinned. leaned a little closer. “whatever, party pooper.”

and then she kissed you anyway.

[sillyseraphie]

hi sweet seraphie! LOL im sending all my mutuals a request and im particularly excited about it!! i wanna know what its like to req 👰‍♂️

so something w phai maybe? reader had a ginormous crush on him b4 but lost feelings since he never reciprocated but hes realizing he loves them now and is trying to win them over again 🫦 cute, subtle ways!!!

kisses and hugs to u seraphie 🙇‍♀️

- cipher (sage in disguise)

“Love is never too late.”

─────────────────────────

in which: you had a very huge crush on phainon before but long after knowing he never reciprocated your feelings, you lost feelings for him — only for him to develop feelings for you and the first thing that went inside his head was to win you over again.

─────────────────────────

pairing/s: phainon x gn!artist!reader

cw: might be ooc as this is only the second time i write phainon and my third time writing an hsr fanfic! + loserboy phainon, bcs me thinks he's a loser when he's smitten! + unedited, there may be errors ahead!

au: college au

today's teas are: angst, hurt/comfy!

─────────────────────────

HALO, LOVELY SAGIE!! (or cipher ;p) thank you for letting me be a part of "sending all my mutuals a request" event of yours! your idea is almost giving "she/he loved him, and he loved him/her too late" LMAO since i'm nice, i'm going to give this a happy ending!! but that doesn't mean my evil arc has ended >:)) might write mydei next based on the anime frieren(?) and on a song "multo" by cup of joe!

thanks for the sweet kissies and huggies! hyacine(disguised as seraphie) is sending u kisses as well!! enjoy reading my first longest fanfic in my life!!

─────────────────────────

you glanced at phainon, who was laughing and teasing mydei to rile him up, as usual, then back at the page of your sketchpad that was once again filled with sketches of him.

you were never one to express everything through words as it always felt difficult for you. so instead, you poured all your feelings into sketching the man you adored.

almost all of the pages of your sketchpad were filled with doodles and sketches of phainon. some were sketches of him smiling, some were him sleeping on his desk (during class), some mini versions him, and even him as a puppy!

yet, even with all those masterpieces, nothing could compare to the real one.

─────────────────────────

just as you were about to finish the outline, phainon leans over and takes a peek. "is that me?"

you almost jumped from your seat at his voice and you immediately turned your head to face him, only to freeze when you did and everything seemed to slow down until you snapped back to reality.

too close!

you thought to yourself as your heart gave a flutter at the proximity between your faces.

you wanted to push him away but you just sat there, not moving an inch.

"yes." thankfully, you knew how to control your expressions. otherwise, you would probably be a blushing mess right now.

phainon hummed in amusement. "you're quite talented at this, (name)! i didn't know i was one of your muses."

one of your muses? oh, how you wanted to say how wrong he was and tell him that he was your only muse but instead, you just kept quiet — as if the words were stuck in your throat — and averted your gaze to the sketch before you.

"thanks." you mumbled, shrinking into your seat, not used to receiving compliments.

phainon merely smiled, knowing and understanding that you were a person of few words who struggled to express yourself, and he accepted that.

so he reached for your head and gently ruffled your hair, making you huff under your breath and swat his hand away in response — only for him to laugh at you, oblivious to the way his touch sent a wave of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

(oh, have i ever mentioned how his laughter was always a music with the perfect melody to your ears? you could listen to it over and over again and you'd never grow tired or sick of it.)

─────────────────────────

you plopped down to the mattress of your bed.

man, you were exhausted.

tilting your head to the side, you glanced at the plastic bag that had your newly bought sketchpad inside, which lay on the desk beside your bed.

you sighed.

this was your second time buying a new sketchpad, as the other two were already filled with sketches of him.

what am i going to do? you asked yourself. and before you knew it, your mind drifted to your feelings for him.

you never expected any of this to happen.

at first, you told yourself it was just a simple crush that would be gone in a flash for a few days — only for your feelings to last longer and bloom into something even deeper.

maybe it wouldn't hurt to confess, right?

...

yeah, maybe it wouldn't hurt.

you weren't the best at words, but you're willing to try, even if it means you'll have to face rejection— not that you weren't mentally prepared for it.

you spent the whole night thinking for the right words to confess,, some leaving you curled up in the sheets out of embarrassment.

curse the titan of romance, why must it end up this way?

─────────────────────────

...

"sorry, (name). i couldn't return your feelings."

ah.

of course, he couldn't. you were just another friend in his eyes anyway.

you ignored the painful ache in your chest, pushing the feeling down with a laugh that sounded convincing enough for anyone to believe that it's fine.

"no need to apologize, phai. i completely understand, i wasn't even expecting you to reciprocate them anyway."

"thank you for listening to everything before saying anything else and for being honest. you may say that it's nothing to thank you for, but it means a lot to me. if you don't mind... could you at least accept these?"

you held the two sketchpads out to him, gesturing for him to take them from you and he did.

with a polite bow, you thanked him again and left.

all that mattered was that you finally confessed, and moving on would be a lot more easier for you now.

─────────────────────────

phainon's a popular guy on the campus, a social butterfly with a charm that drew everyone in. he excelled in academics, dominated in sports, had good looks and a smile that could light any darkest room.

and you? you were just a normal, introverted student — known for your artistic achievements, but often overlooked in the crowd.

locking the door to your room, you slid yourself down to the floor with your back against the door.

you could finally move on without trouble.

you knew he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

you knew you had it coming and prepared yourself for it.

you had convinced yourself that you were okay with it. watching him laugh with friends, effortlessly connecting with everyone while you felt like a ghost in the background admiring him from afar. you told yourself that feelings like these were inevitable when you admired someone so vibrant and alive. and yet,

why did it hurt so much?

lost in thought, something warm and wet suddenly landed on your lap.

you blinked, confusion washing over you. you wiped at your eyes and noticed that your vision was blurry.

when was the last time you cried? the question echoed in your mind, heavy and unsettling. you couldn't remember. the emptiness you often felt had numbed you to every pain, dulling your emotions to the point where tears seemed like a distant memory.

as you fought to regain your composure, more droplets followed, cascading down your cheeks. each tear felt like a release, but also a reminder of the weight you carried.

you had grown so accustomed to the numbness that the sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed you, catching you off guard.

maybe letting go of your feelings for phainon wasn't as easy as you thought, but you knew for sure that you will be able to let go of them soon.

─────────────────────────

phainon sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers tracing the outline of the sketches as his eyes fixated on the image made from pencil before him. each doodle was a glimpse into the world of someone who saw him differently, someone who captured his little moments.

he flipped through the pages, observing every expression— the way his smile lit up the page, the peacefulness of him sleeping during class, even the silly sketches of him as a puppy. it was as if each drawing held a story, and he felt his heart getting heavier on every page he flips.

as he continued flipping through the sketches, something tugged at his heartstrings. realization dawned on him that these weren't just sketches,

they were pieces of your feelings and thoughts.

he paused on the page where you had captured him laughing, the joy and lightness in that moment reflected back at him.

it was as if he could hear the laughter in his mind.

setting the sketchpad down, he lay down with his back against the soft mattress of his bed and placed an arm over his now closed eyelids before letting out a sigh.

─────────────────────────

a month passed in a blur since you had confessed your feelings, life on the campus went smoothly as usual. well not for phainon at least.

phainon and you maintained your friendship, still sharing laughs, joining him for lunch and studying together as if nothing happened between the two of you. however, there was something different these days and phainon isn't stupid not to notice that.

while you still treated him the same, (with kindness, warmth, and respect) you rarely glanced his way like you used to anymore.

you laughed alongside him, but the spark that used to light up in your eyes when you look at him seemed dimmed.

he complimented you on your art and instead of the shy, grateful reaction he was used to, you kindly accepted it with a smile. (it felt more like a polite acknowledgement than the shy excitement he had grown accustomed to.) as if you were silently telling him that you no longer hold those feelings for him.

phainon couldn't shake the feeling that he lost something so precious. he often caught himself watching you and deciphering the subtle changes in your demeanor.

you had moved on, and while he was glad you did and you no longer have to suffer from your feelings for him that could never be returned, he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing.

─────────────────────────

he sat there at the cafeteria with mydei, glancing at the direction where you were sitting and laughing with your small circle of friends, seeming engrossed in a conversation.

why did it bother him so much? he has always been popular, admired by many, yet he felt a pang of something when he saw you laughing with others? (jealousy perhaps?)

in quiet moments, he found himself thinking about the sketches you had created. each drawing was a glimpse into a side of you he had never really recognized — your creativity, your perspective, and the way you deeply saw him in a different light.

(strangely enough,) it made his heart ache.

─────────────────────────

phainon found himself staring at you again, his gaze glued to you as you sat with your friends. you were in the midst of a conversation, laughing at something that had been said, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

he watched as you tuck a strand behind your ear, a small smile forming on your lips. such a simple action, and yet it captivated him in a way he didn't expect.

he couldn't help but admire the way you moved, so unnatural and unguarded.

─────────────────────────

phainon rested his chin on his palm as his gaze fixated on his seatmate.

he took noticed of you resting your head on your arms that was placed on top of your desk, your breathing soft and even as you drited off to sleep. the calm and peaceful sight of you brought a smile to his face, and something deep stirred within him.

"earth to phainon."

mydei's voice cut him off from his daze, and phainon froze in realization. "ah, sorry. i wasn't listening, what is it?"

mydei raised an eyebrow. "you seemed to be distracted these days, what's on your mind," he paused, his eyes landing at your sleeping figure.

"or rather, who is on your mind?" he finished in a playful manner.

shoot, he got caught!

phainon rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, letting out a nervous laugh.

was it obvious or was he staring at you that long?

─────────────────────────

phainon looked at the ceiling above him as he recalled the days that had passed. his mind flooded with memories, each memory of you now felt more clearer and meaningful.

sitting in the cafeteria, watching you laugh with your friends and feeling a pang of something he hadn't felt before. but he ignored it and instead listened to your laughter that seemed to melt his heart. it sounded perfect to his ears, bright and carefree.

the smallest and simplest things you do, like when you were sketching, lost in your world, the way your brows furrowed in concentration or how you'd occasionally tap the tip of the pencil against your lips made his heart race.

those little gestures, once overlooked, now held a beauty that captivated him entirely.

he remembered the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a simple action that sent fluttering butterflies in his stomach.

the moments you'd fall asleep during class breaks, as if you were blissfully unaware of the world around you.

is this how you felt back then? he asked himself.

each memory deepened his confusion and longing. he had always seen you as a friend, but now he felt something more these days— and it honestly thrilled, yet frightened him at the same time.

he wanted to be the reason behind your smiles, the one who encourages you in your passion for arts, and who stands by you through everything.

and yet, he couldn't shake the fear of losing you. you had already moved on from the feelings you once had for him, and phainon worried that his feelings for you might push you away.

but he knew he had to confront these feelings. if he wanted you to see him in the same light you once did, he would have to take the risk before it's too late.

the first thing that came to his mind was to win you over again, and he was determined to do it.

though, will it be worth the risk? only one way to find out.

─────────────────────────

sigh.

phainon exhaled and his groan soon followed, his face resting against the desk. he had been trying to win your heart again these past two months, but he always ended up failing with his sudden clumsiness, and the unexpected things happening.

impressing you with his drawing skills? failed. he knocked a bottle of water over (that had its lid opened) in an accident, spilling it all over your sketchbook. he tried cleaning it up with a paper towel, only for him to smear the sketches he had already made, turning his masterpiece into a messy blur. you tried assuring him that it was fine and it was an accident, and yet that didn't stop the sad expression that formed on his face, looking exactly like a kicked puppy and you had to hold yourself back from laughing.

(cute. you thought.)

impressing you with his skills in sports? failed. while he did manage to shoot the ball, he got distracted when he caught your gaze and before he knew it, a ball flew to his way at a rapid speed and hit him right on the head, almost knocking him out.

sending you a sweet message about how much he enjoys spending time with you? failed. he accidentally sent the message to the wrong person. and worst of all, the person he accidentally sent the sweet message to was one of the professors in the campus; anaxa.

he doubts he'll even forget that memory.

he tried to pick your things that had fallen to the ground, only for both of your foreheads to bump against each other really hard.

he also tried flirting, but you were so slow and oblivious, it backfired.

mnestia, could you please be nice for once?

─────────────────────────

phainon always had a bright smile on his face, but there was a subtle change about him lately, and everyone on the campus could see the way his eyes would soften or light up with stars, the way the expression on his face would brighten with a grin, or even the way his imaginary tail would wag furiously whenever he sees you or when he's with you. (as if he was a dog with an owner that just got home from work.)

during class, phainon would steal glances on your way while the professor was busy discussing. only for anaxa to catch him daydreaming later, staring at you instead of paying attention and taking down notes. he eventually calls him after clearing his throat to catch his student's attention, "care to share your thoughts, phainon of aedes elysiae?" and the class erupts into laughter as phainon stumbles over his words, cheeks flushed and an embarrassed smile on his lips.

you also could tell that there was something more about the way he acts around you, but you kept denying it, convincing yourself that you're just imagining things or phainon was simply being... well, phainon.

yet despite your attempts to brush it off, you couldn't shake off the fluttering feeling in your chest from the way he looks at you like a lovesick puppy (you honestly find that cute), or when gives you those bright, charming smiles that always seemed to widen whenever you agree to tag along with him, or the way he still spots you in the crowds despite blending in perfectly, or—

titans.

you were falling for him again. but oddly enough, you didn't feel scared or hesitant about it, and it felt different this time, you didn't question everything like last time, you just accepted it without overthinking and complaining.

you didn't mind that he turned you down before, those moments had already felt like a blur now. and you found yourself clinging to the small hopes that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

─────────────────────────

phainon was unusually quiet today, but as two of your friends called out to him, his gaze landed on them first before you and the moment it did; heat crept up to his cheeks.

"how do they look, phainon?"

cipher and hyacine had just finished styling your hair (out of boredom) and now they asked him for his opinion, only for him to remain silent and leave their question unanswered.

"i told you, i look ridiculous in this. i prefer my usual hair style much more." a sigh left your lips, embarrassment washing over you as you brought a hand to the clip/pin/hair tie, trying to take it off. But cipher stopped you before you could.

"ah, ah, ah. he hasn't given us an answer yet."

phainon was too stunned to speak and he couldn't help himself from staring at you, not when you look so...

breathtaking, beautiful, stunning, lovely, majestic, adorable, charming, enchanting, divine, and effortlessly gorgeous.

i mean you've always been, but seeing you in a different hairstyle than usual was new to him, and he doubts words are even enough to describe how captivating you are.

with a hand covering half of his flushed face and his shy smile, his eyes averted elsewhere before finally giving them an answer.

"they look pretty." he muttered and he returned his gaze back to you (and only you), his voice barely above a whisper but it was enough for you and your friends to hear.

while the pair cheered, he didn't fail to notice how you seemed to freeze in your spot.

was he seeing things? he could've sworn he saw your cheeks blooming into a faint red colour before you turned your back to him.

─────────────────────────

several months had passed since day one of phainon's clumsy attempts of winning you over, and now you stood there with him at the entrance of the amusement park, staring blankly at the screen,and holding back the frustration that washed over you as you read the message.

hyacine: sorry, (name)! we got so hungry, we had to go somewhere to eat. i'm pretty sure you'll be fine there as long as you're with phainon! o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

cipher: have fun

cipher: on your date! ;3

beside you was phainon, who was also staring at the screen of his phone.

mydei: we had been standing and waiting for so long, but since you were taking your precious time, i had lost my patience.

castorice: sorry, phainon. i couldn't stay in one place for too long. we're cheering for you though! good luck! :))

great.

they ditched us. you both thought at the same time.

a long silence followed, and phainon was the first to break it. "seems like it's just the two of us then. where do you want to head to first?"

while phainon was frustrated at the fact that the both of you just got ditched, a part of him was happy that he got to spend time with you alone— in an amusement park.

you looked around first before pointing at the rides. "the rides would be nice, i'd like to try them out." (you felt a bit childish, but you've been dying to ride the rollercoaster.)

─────────────────────────

as you made your way through the bustling crowd, you suddenly felt a bit anxious. "hey, phainon?"

"yeah?"

"do you mind if i hold onto your arm?" you hesitantly asked him. "i don't really like crowds, and i'm afraid that i might get lost..."

phainon glanced at you, and then chuckled. "with your height, it might not be easy to spot you in all these people." he joked and you flashed him a glare. (you were offended. that joke was unfunny, sir.)

"but sure, i don't mind." he extended his arm for you before you linked yours with his (and suddenly, you're not that scared anymore).

whenever you feel overwhelmed by the crowd, your grip on him loosens. and each time that happens, phainon would gently pull you back closer to his side, ensuring your safety.

the both of you headed to the rides first, you started with the simple ones before the thrilling rides. excitement bubbled in your chest as you climb aboard the rollercoaster. the ride was thrilling and it made you scream in delight whenever it plummeted down.

once the ride came to stop, you stepped off of the ride. but when you stepped foot on the ground, your knees buckled. just as you were about to stumble, phainon caught you just in time, his arms wrapping around you securely, "woah, careful there!" he said, and both of you burst into fits of laughter.

after regaining your balance, you and phainon headed over to the food stalls to eat, before wandering over to the game stalls. (you could've sworn you saw two familiar figures with blonde and lavender hair, but before you could even look at their direction, a prize caught your attention.) you tried your luck at winning the prize while phainon cheered you on, and his encouragement was boosting your confidence.

when you finally knocked down the cans and won a stuffed animal, you beamed up at him with the plush in your arms, and he flashed you a proud grin.

─────────────────────────

the sun had begun to set and both of you had decided to go home. (your parents told you to come home before night time.)

the excitement of the day was still buzzling in the air, and the smiles on your faces were still there. phainon had decided to take you home and everything was silent, but it wasn't the awkward silence you shared earlier— it was rather comfortable and warm.

as you've both finally reached outside your home, you weren't sure how to voice out the feelings that had been blooming inside you, but it seemed phainon had something to say as well.

before you could bid him goodbye and call it a day, your eyes widened when you saw the solemn look on his face as he muttered something under his breath and avoided your gaze.

"did i love you too late?"

it was almost inaudible, but you managed to hear the words that (accidentally) slipped past his lips.

you could tell that he was being sincere.

"what?" you said in disbelief, causing a wave of panic to wash over phainon. but before he could say a word, you beat him into it.

"and here i thought I was only imagining things." you stifled a laugh and you were now facing him entirely. "please, look at me." he did as what you have told him.

and there it is, the look in your eyes, the one he had been longing to see.

"you're never too late, phai. I might have moved on and lost feelings for a while, but somehow, my heart found its way back to you again. it's odd, but i'm not complaining. with all the things that's been happening between us, i couldn't help myself from clinging onto the hopes that maybe things would be different this time. so..."

"phainon, if you truly love me... can you promise me to hold and take good care of my fragile heart this time?"

phainon stood frozen, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in surprise. it was rare to see you express your feelings so openly, and the weight of your words hung in the air between you. He felt a sudden rush of joy, disbelief, and a slight vulnerability, all mixed together.

as your words sunk in, a bright smile replaced the solemn expression he had on his face. his eyes lit up, sparkling with warmth. you almost found yourself laughing at the sight of his imaginary fluffy dog ears perking up with excitement and his imaginary tail wagging furiously behind him.

after a moment, he finally answered, his voice steady and sincere. "i promise to and i will hold, cherish, and protect your fragile heart with everything i have."

he swore to the whole universe, that he won't let you down. and this time, he will show you how much you mean to him.

there is never too early, nor too late for you to love someone. it isn't something to rush on, as there will always be a right time for love to bloom like a beautiful flower.

─────────────────────────

silly taggies! @sqgeism , @strawbairicake, @unabashedlyfamousprince

note/s: my tumblr was lagging when i pasted everything from my notes LMAOOO, + let me know if there's an error or you could share your opinion! (I would honestly love that, so feel free to drop your opinions, chat!) + did you all know that I based this on the things that had happened to me and my past crush? (Not entirely, it's mostly on the amusement park part and the reader's crying part LMAO)

[natalicss]

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

summary: you and ji-yong have been dating for a couple years, and you’ve kept under the radar this entire time. after the gala de pièces juanes, you two attend the chanel spring-summer 2025 haute contour show. however, the two of you are starting to get tired of keeping your relationship a secret.

warnings: not proofread AT ALL! i’m way too lazy for that, sorry. celeb!reader, implied age gap (reader is mid-twenties), lots of fluff, lil bit of angst, use of y/n, i still don’t know how to use this app i feel like an elderly man using a cell phone.

word count: 4.9K

nat’s notes: hey y’all! i came back for part two AS PROMISED! this was actually very hard for me to write as i kept changing my mind about how i wanted this to go. so im sorry in advance if its not all that great LMAO. i do wanna write a lil more about american pop star reader & jiyong, maybe i’ll do some sort of head canons about them, or some stuff about their relationship early on. i’m not sure. i also tagged the people who asked to be & i will try to keep tagging people in the future (if they wanna be). anywhore, i hope that you guys enjoy this, if you don’t…sorry<3 toodles!

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

After the successful Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had spent the next couple days in dressing rooms. You had been invited to Chanel’s Spring-Summer 2025 Haute Couture Show. You said yes, of course, having an affinity for fashion, and never turning down the chance to be near your long-term boyfriend. You and Ji-yong had been to a couple of the same fashion shows before. It was always easy to slip by with nobody noticing your connection. Oftentimes, you two were not seated remotely near each other and are far too busy with the peers around you to sneak away. 

But this last week felt particularly more difficult. Unlike in America or South Korea, where you knew the paparazzi and knew very well how to remain under the radar, the Paris press was more complicated. You and Ji-yong had to weave your way around in more secrecy than ever. Every method you could imagine. Some instances, the two of you would sneak through a back door and slide into cars to avoid the cameras. Other instances, the two of you would make separate nonchalant appearances. Ji-yong would leave the hotel first, shy and polite as he waved and greeted the people around him as he’d slip into a car and drive off to his next location. You, wearing designer clothes and sunglasses as you walked out with a big smile and a more confident approach. You’d get in your own car, sliding into the back with your security with a huff. Within moments, you’d open your phone to shoot a text to your lover. 

Y/N

i didnt get to say it before you left, but you look handsome today<3

You knew it’d only be a moment before he responded. 

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

You and Ji-yong hated that you couldn’t spend this Paris trip together more. After all, you two had all of the same events, same meetings, same friends to visit, and yet you couldn’t be by his side at any of it, not in public. Part of you didn’t mind, used to the routine, but part of you was starting to grow tired. It wasn’t like two years ago, when you first started dating. At that time, Ji-yong was still on hiatus, you were working on your fourth album, and everything had to be a secret. Secret vacations, secret visits, secret dinner dates where the two of you wore silly disguises. You were good sports, making a game out of it and playing ridiculous characters to see who cracked first. But that was two years ago. He was back in the spotlight again, you had released your fifth album a few weeks ago, he was releasing his own work. You two were confident in your relationship, everyone was. What was holding you back?

There was no black and white answer. On one hand, now was the perfect time to announce to the world that their rumors of you dating a random Hollywood actor were all false. On the other hand, were you so willing to give up that last piece of privacy you did have? You weren’t worried about the hate on either side, despite knowing how fans often get if they don’t approve of their favorite celebrities' relationship. 

You had been in a public relationship way before Ji-yong. It was years ago, back when you were still new to the world of fame and glamour. Every corner you turned, the cameras flashing, the wave of hate you’d received, the amount of gossip around every song you released being about them or not, their interviews for their movies always being about you. Your careers had been forced to blend due to the way people reacted. The world had taken your last relationship by storm and had seemingly strangled it with their love and adoration. The lack of privacy, individuality, and respect for the two of you had been what led to you and your last partners split. It took the two of you years before the media finally stopped associating everything either of you did together. So, understandably, part of you was worried about that happening again.

You thought about all of this as you and Ji-yong were getting ready for the day. You both had things to attend to, tomorrow being the fashion show. One last fitting, one last meeting with your teams. You were styling your hair as Ji-yong had finished getting dressed, the agreement for him to leave the hotel first still agreed on. He looked at you, and you could see the way his eyes softened as he observed your eyes. He knew everything about you, down to the way your face looked when you were deep in thought, perhaps about to drown yourself with your ability to overthink.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, speaking in Korean first as he approached. You didn’t say anything, busy running your fingers through your hair as he quietly stepped next to you. He met your eyes in the mirror, his lips curling. “There she is.” You blushed at his words, putting your hands down as you finally turned your body to face him. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He asks, reaching up to adjust your hair framing your face.

You didn’t know where to start. You and Ji-yong had talked about this a million times before. You two had always agreed to keep things the way they are. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change that. As he watched you get lost in your thoughts again, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. Your eyes were glossy, not all there as you already started mapping out every way the conversation could go, preparing yourself for every out come.

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,” 

You blink. It takes you a second to come back to the present, taking a deep breath as you try to explain the heavy complicated feelings in your heart. “I’ve been thinking, through this whole trip,” You subconsciously reach for his hands, looking for comfort and something to anchor you down. He lets you, his thumb running along your skin in soothing patterns. “I don’t know how much longer I want to keep us a secret.” You blurt, staring at your connected hands rather than his eyes. You were too worried about what you might find. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Your heart twists in anxiety, but you don’t dare to look up. Ji-yong’s breathing changes, only the slightest bit, but you notice. He stops his thumb from tracing its delicate patterns, instead letting it tap against your skin. You feel guilty. You both had so much to do today, this conversation could have waited til tonight, after the show tomorrow, or at just about any other time. You weren’t sure, but you knew this wasn’t it.

Ji-yong adjusts his posture, pulling one hand away from yours, only to bring it to your face. With the gentlest touch, he lifts your head so you finally see his eyes. They’re not angry, or frustrated, or even remotely annoyed. Instead, they’re as soft and warm as they’d always been, making your heart flutter the slightest bit. To be honest, Ji-yong had thought about this too. He’d admitted before that going public worried him. He was a celebrity, and that immediately brings its own multitudes of hardships. He knew that he’d keep any and all relationships a secret, unless the person he was with said otherwise. You had come into his life, unexpectedly, and changed his entire world in the best ways he could imagine. And here you were, the person he knew was the love of his life, staring back at him with sadness because of that very sentiment. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling it too. He wanted to hold your hand down the streets of Paris, the two of you pointing out different things you loved about it, sharing kisses under streetlights. That night at the Gala, he had wanted to kiss you as soon as he was off the stage. And when you were finished performing? He wanted to part the crowd and sweep you into his arms, like he did at your own tours. But he’d been worried, worried about what people might say to you or about you. He knew how harsh they got. He knew you could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put you in that position unless you were ready.

His hand, which caresses your face with a certain level of sincerity you only ever felt from him, was soft and moved gently. He smiled, a soft gentle one that made you feel more at ease as you realized he wasn’t mad at you in any way. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?” He asks you, raising a brow. You only shake your head, lips pursed into a line. He studies your features like you’re a work of art (cause you are). “I miss every second I’m not with you. All I can think about is where you might be. If you’re smiling. If you’re anxious. If you’re laughing. If you’re thinking about me, too.” He leans in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And then you text me, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to be with you, and how mad I am that you’re not next to me.” You nod in understanding. You’d always felt that way about him, to the point it made your heart clench.

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

You’re blushing wildly as he kisses your lips softly. Your feelings for him being translated into simple intimate touches. You’d never experienced something like Ji-yong before. You never wanted to let that go.

When he pulls away, he’s reaching for your jacket hanging off the back of a chair. You smile at him, memorizing his face like you’d done a million times before. You slide your arms into the jacket, letting your boyfriend adjust your outfit slightly. He focuses on your hair, bringing it out form under it and framing your face. Everytime his fingers brush your skin it leaves faint tingles in their wake.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone when we get home?” He suggests, looking back at you. Your eyes widen. You search his expression. “If you’re positive, then I’m with you.” 

You smiled wide. You couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and he laughs softly as you start to kiss all over his face. “I want nothing more than to scream about how I’m dating G-Dragon.” He rolls his eyes playfully, still not used to you using his stage name after all this time. 

The rest of your days went smoothly. Both of you finishing up with your work, having dinner with friends, coming back to the hotel room to spend every possible moment together. Soft laughter as you each told stories from your pasts (many you’ve already told), legs tangled together under the sheets of your bed. Small intimate touches. Fingers tracing shapes on skin. Gentle kisses. Messy hair. If possible, your eyes were certainly heart shaped every moment you looked at him.

It was hard to hide it, even now, as you sit at the Chanel show. Both of you had arrived at different times, wearing extravagant outfits. You could feel his eyes on you as you posed for the cameras. He tried to keep his composure when he knew you were near by as he did interviews. Luckily for both of you, you’ve had years of practice. You held your head high with confidence, switching your energy from your usual softer self to the person you were on stage. America’s pop star. America’s princess. The way you posed yourself elegantly, batting your full lashes and gave your most sultry looks. How was Ji-yong supposed to not look? You were sitting in your seat, looking down at your phone as a text popped up.

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

You looked across the runway, your heart skipping a beat. He was already looking at you, a knowing shy smile on his face as he kept his phone in his hand. You smiled back at him, looking back at your phone.

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

You put your phone in your lap, looking around some more. You felt lucky you had been to so many events, most of these people you already knew one way or another. It made small talk with the people next to you flow easily. Every now and again, you’d sneak a glance at your boyfriend, who was always staring at you like you were the show itself. It was hard to hide your blushed face, keep your voice from pitching when you talked to the other celebrities, and nearly impossible not to stare right back at him.

The show itself seemed to pass by with ease. You watched thoughtfully at every piece, making mental notes of things you particularly liked and wanted to mention to your assistant later. You’d lean over to your new friend of the night, whispering about different pieces and sharing your thoughts. You could see Ji-yong completely focused on the show, his eyes studying every model with intrigue. It was clear every piece that came out was being calculated into various looks. If he thought of something that worked, he’d raise his phone and take a quick photo. You smiled every time, excited to hear what he was thinking of later.

As the show came to an end, you were talking with your team as you felt someone graze past you. You looked up to see your familiar boyfriend, smiling at you fondly. You knew there were cameras everywhere, one minor slip leading to a whirlwind of chaos and news articles. The anxiety in your chest felt tight, but you kept your cool, straightening your posture and giving him a smile.

Ji-yong looked around, as if silently piecing together something. You followed his gaze, trying to see exactly what he was looking at. To you, there was nothing particularly interesting one way or another. Some fellow stars were talking, being interviewed, or just admiring the scene. Photographers were taking photos of guests, journalists asking people various questions. To you, it looked like every other fashion show even you’d been to. To Ji-yong, it looked like an opportunity. 

There were no words shared. His hand clasped around yours, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his. You blinked in surprise, looking ahead as Ji-yong started pulling you through the sea of people. You were wide-eyed as you looked around. Your teams hadn’t noticed you disappearing, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. But Ji-yong moved with purpose, walking through like this wasn’t strange or something other people should take a second glance at. You tried to mimic his confidence, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to simmer down.

In a quiet corner away from the cameras and the wandering eyes, Ji-yong finally came to a stop. You looked at him with a surprised expression. Your lipstick-painted lips parted slightly as you watched him look at you. He adjusted the tie around his neck, something he’d been doing the entire day. You looked behind you, worried who was watching, but a hand wrapping around your waist caught your attention.

His lips pressed against yours. Soft, passionate, and urgent. You squeaked in surprised against him, your hands landing on his chest as he pulled you further into the corner. Hidden away from your peers, from your teams, and from the layers of paparazzi. Your hands clutched tighter onto his jacket. His hands, which traced your body slowly, slowly lifted to grab your face with the most gentle touch. As he pulled away, you could only blink at him with big doe eyes.

“I couldn’t stand there and act like you weren’t the most beautiful thing here.” He whispers. 

The words caused your heart to do flips against your ribcage. His touch seemingly brought you back to earth, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. “Says you, Monsieur G-Dragon,” You tease as you run your hands over the jacket again. This time, he’s the one trying to hide the way his cheeks blush. You looked at the bow tie with the flower on it, tilting your head as you reached up, slowly maneuvering the flower off. He looks down, blinking at it as you hold the flower in your hand, “Is that better?”

He reaches up, adjusting the tie again, and smiling softly. “Yes. Thank you.” He says finally. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual” You sigh dramatically, shrugging your shoulders. Ji-yong chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Got whisked away by a hot guy, can’t complain.”

Ji-yong raises a brow in amusement. “Is that what happened?” He asks. You look around. “What else would you call this?”

He steps closer, looking up in thought as he lets his arms wrap around your waist. His lips in a line as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes at you playfully. He didn’t have an answer. He rather liked the idea of whisking you away from the public eye. He did it often, though usually it was more hidden than this. You leaned into his touch, a natural instinct. The rest of the world seemed to drift away, even in moments like this. Only you and Ji-yong existed. Life was better with him. He knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how to make you laugh, how to calm your nerves, how to soothe your cries. He knew your favorite snacks, your order at your favorite coffee shop, and your favorite movies. The same could be said for you. You knew how to quiet his overwhelming thoughts, how to make him smile in stressful moments. You knew his favorite songs to play in the car. His favorite jewelry pieces to wear. You had his tells of when he was anxious or upset burned into your brain. And when one of you were around the other, everybody else melted into the background. Your love trumping anything else.

“We should probably get back out there,” You whisper. He hums in agreement, but neither of you make any move to leave. You lean closer into him, your head resting on his chest as his chin rested on top of your head. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the two of you were together again; a few hours at most. Lately, those hours felt like decades.

Ji-yong gave you another squeeze. “You go out first, jagiya,” He whispers. You pull away from his embrace, staring up at him. The way your glossy eyes sparkled up at him. It was like he could see every ounce of love for him you had, pouring out of you. He framed your face in his hands, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his touch, looking back at him again as you walked away. He only smiled softly. Your heart yearned to stay in that corner with him forever, until your managers found you and ripped the two of you apart. You chewed the inside of your cheek, turning away from him completely as you looked for any sign of your team.

In the dark of your hotel room, you and Ji-yong were a tangled mess of bedsheets and limbs. The rest of the event blew by, you making some lame excuse to your team that you had gone to the bathroom, and Ji-yong telling his team that he was looking at some of the pieces again. You ended up having a romantic dinner together, talking about the event and the people you ran into. A quiet night with glasses of champagne and flirtatious glances.

But now, as the two of you were sleeping peacefully in your quiet room, your phones began to buzz. A violent series of notifications flooding both of your phones. You begin to stir first, rolling over slowly, pulling Ji-yongs arms off of you as you reached for your cellphone. A series of calls, texts, emails, all from your manager, publicist, assistant, even friends of yours. You blinked a few times, your eyes squinting at the bright screen as you opened up a text from your closest friend. A news article.

Unexpected Couple! Musician Y/N L/N Seen With K-Pop Idol G-Dragon at Chanel Fashion Show

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach. No, no, no. You had been so careful for so long. You scroll, your breath escaping you as you look at a photo of you and Ji-yong. His hands on your face, his lips on yours. Another photo of you looking up at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen (he was, to be fair). For a moment, you just stared blankly. Your thoughts struggle to catch up as your body seems to react for you. Nausea came over you. The room suddenly felt too small. The words on the screen burned into your eyes.

You looked at the top of your phone, seeing another phone call from your manager coming in. You ignore it, reaching over to your boyfriend and shaking him. “Ji?” You whisper. When he doesn’t immediately respond, your eyes begin to water. The anxiety, the fear, the stress catching up to you. It crawls up your spine like some sort of ugly clawed fingers reaching for your throat. You shake him again, a little more harsh as you croak. “Ji-yong.”

His eyes shot open. He flinches awake, looking around the room in a momentary panic before looking at you. First, he relaxes, realizing it’s just you. Then, his tired eyes take in yours. The tears threatening to spill over, your shaking frame, your heavy breathing. He sits up now, looking you over in concern. “Aein…? What’s wrong?” As he wakes up, he hears his phone. He turns to look at it, but the whimper from your lips stops him. Slowly, you hand your phone over. Ji-yong looks at you in confusion, but takes it and looks down.

Oh. 

Oh.

What was once a comforting silence now felt cold. The incessant vibrations of his phone on the nightstand made your ears ring. You crawled out of bed, wearing one of Ji-yong’s shirts as pajamas. You paced the carpeted floor, running your hands through your hair. Ji-yong remained silent. He read the article. Then he reread it. Then he read it again. He looked at the photos over and over. The title. The numerous texts you were getting. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He sat in the bed, dumbstruck. 

On one hand, part of him wanted to be relieved. The secret was out, and there was no reason to hide his love for you anymore. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on your terms. Organized by your teams. Some staged paparazzi sighting, or maybe a hard launch on your social medias. He wasn’t sure. The two of you never discussed it that far. Now there was no choice. All because he’d dragged you into his embrace in secret. A selfish moment, now on the cover of multiple articles.

Slowly, he put your phone down, putting it on silent before reaching for his own. He winced at the number of texts he was getting, reaching triple digits. He even saw texts from Taeyang and Daesung, two of the few people who knew about your relationship. But he didn’t answer anyone, turning his own phone off so he could set his attention on your pacing figure. “Jagiya,” He pulls himself out of bed, approaching you with soft eyes. You keep pacing, shaking your head as you try to sort your racing thoughts. “Jagiya, look at me,” He reaches for your hands, pulling you to face him completely. His heart ached as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes wide with fear and worry. You wanted to go public. But not like this. You’d done so well at keeping your life private, and now it felt like it had been stripped away from you before you could even do it yourself. “I’m so sorry,” 

His words caught you off guard. There’s a heartbeat of silence as you look at him. Your brows crinkle together as you look at him. His sad, anxious expression as he guiltily looks away. “What?” You whisper, a moment of clarity through your emotional storm.

Ji-yong swallows, looking around the room as he holds your hands tightly. Your touch being the only thing grounding him to this moment. “If we hadn’t, if I hadn’t pulled you away, they wouldn’t have seen anything.” He explains. Your eyes dance over his face as you let what he’s saying register. You shake your head. “Ji,” You coo, reaching forward to push his mint hair out of his face. He looks at you, eyes sad and guilty. “It’s not your fault. We knew that there was a risk. Since day one.” You remind him. You were right. Since you started dating two years ago, there was always the possibility the media would find out about the two of you. Both of you are major stars, with public lives (to some degree). “I just, I can’t believe it got leaked at a Chanel show.”

Ji-yong is quiet for a moment, looking over at you. “The photos are cute.” He says. You look at him in surprise. You think about the photos, how oddly scenic they were, how the photographer had captured a genuinely sweet and beautiful moment. You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping at your tears. Ji-yong cracks a smile, though the worry in his eyes still evident. Not worried for himself, no, but worry for you.

“Our managers are going to kill us.” You say, your voice weak from crying and still being tired. Ji-yong nods his head. “What are we going to do?”

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What do you want to do?” He asks you. Naturally, the two of you drift towards each other. Your arms wrap around each others frames, Your face tucked into his neck as you close your eyes. His grip on you tight, still gentle, and protective. His fingers rake through your hair as he waits. No rush for you to answer. No rush to figure out the rest of the world. He lets you simmer in his touch, your mind still racing. 

You clutch onto him, not moving away from him as you start to talk. “I want you. That’s it. I want to be able to be with you. I’m not ashamed of being with you, Ji. I’m proud. So proud of you, being with you. I love you.” You feel his arms tighten around you. Slowly, you lift your head and look into his eyes. Now, they were glassy. 

Ji-yong blinks away the pending tears as he sniffles. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N,” He whispers, reaching up to push your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. “I will never be afraid to say that.” 

You lean closer, kissing him softly. Your heart still pounding against your chest, your mind still a storm of fear and worry for what wrath you’d face from the media, but it didn’t matter. Not in the long run. You had Ji-yong. You loved Ji-yong more than you could ever explain to him or anyone else. And you knew that the two of you would figure it out together. You’d figure out everything together.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, looking at your phones on the bed. This was it. No more secret rendezvous. No more sneaking around. No more lying in interviews about your relationship status. Everybody knows now. There was no hiding from it now.

You smile at him, your eyes sparkling in the way he loved. You nod your head. “I’m ready,” You assure him.

And by the time the two of you would be leaving Paris, on your way back to Seoul, the entire world knew the secret you’d been keeping to yourselves. And in the early morning as you rushed out of your hotel with your security guards, you two didn’t hide from the paparazzi. Ji-yong walked with you, hand-in-hand, as you walked towards your car. The shouts of fans and cameras catch your attention. You smile and wave, blushing wildly as you realize this was real. 

Ji-yong stands up straighter, his hand tightening in yours as he pulls you close. His hand releases yours, only to wrap around your waist tightly as he leads you forward. Ji-yong opens the door for you, despite the security guard reaching for it. Fans scream in awe, and you lean over quickly to press a kiss on his cheek. A weight you didn’t know was there, suddenly lifted. You beamed as Ji-yong slid into the seat next to you. His expression matched yours. Filled with love, excitement, a certain fondness and admiration. “Au revoir, Paris,” Ji-yong muttered as the car started to move. You giggled, leaning into him as you looked around the streets.

“Taeyang and Daesung will never let us hear the end of this.” You muttered, playing with Ji-yong's fingers absentmindedly. A gentle groan comes from Ji-yong, causing you to laugh again. An infinite amount of teasing and playful jokes awaited the two of you back home. Along with a million questions from friends, coworkers, the media, and who knows who else. But you were okay with that. It hadn’t been completely on your terms, but it was yours. Ji-yong was yours.

And if nothing else, it made your stories about Paris far more entertaining.

[idekkkjja]

dom camgirl ningning with reader as a guest whehehhehwhehw

Dripping intoxication ₊˚.༄

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ In college, barely scraping by on cheap instant foods from a nearby convenience store was not weak, and the long shifts on enduring jobs were only enough to make meet ends either. Ningning had no spare change for any reasonable entertainment—sometimes in a dire situation not being able to afford food—or things she wanted for years.

So, a desirable option was to be… a sex worker! Well, online. And it did turn out to benefit her a lot, a bit too much perhaps. Being now well-known and making good money on the app she works on.

And the job was fun too, especially with pretty guests like you. The innocent, inexperienced ones were her favorite!

The description matches you perfectly, and she didn’t know until she tested it.

Heads-up: English not my first language so may be mistakes yall, sorry. And this my first smut about a strap-on GUYS IDK IM GETTING USED TO IT BUT ITS AWKWARD HAHA… writing smut 💔.. idm tho. Drunk sex, swearing ofc, semi-public sex? Pool sex.. strap-on usage.

— Completely unaware of the sex industry itself, you weren’t the type to watch porn in your free time; deeming it to be forbidden and an unhealthy obsession.

And yes, you were one of the girls who proudly despised men and women in those types of activities, believing they’re the corruption to major things in society right now.

All you knew was that porn was bad, and don’t be associated with those who do it or willingly watch it for disgusting entertainment. Because you could be influenced, you were gullible a little. The thought made you want to throw up.

Many of your friends didn’t judge that much when realizing your sex life is drier than a Sahara desert; some motivated you to keep it up, life isn’t all about sex.

You weren’t a virgin, you did have done it a few times with men but did you count them? No, every one of them wasn’t worth it. No pleasure in all, one orgasm was scored if you added.

In college, you had a lot of friends, quite popular within your circle so you knew everyone and what they did since you also loved a pretty thing called gossip.

Meaning you knew everything about people they may not know about themselves.

Except Ningning: a walking puzzle piece, the odd one left out of the beautiful piece to be crafted. It was frustrating, it seemed as if the woman didn’t know herself yet.

Once before a lecture, bored and curious enough, to waste time you asked Ningning a question about what her favorite color was.

And she didn’t know, her face scrunched up in bewilderment, nor when her birthday was.

To that point, you checked what day it was, assuming that it must be April Fools Day because that woman had to be kidding right?

No, she wasn’t. At the end of the draining conversation, you had frustration and a hypothesis that she could be potentially an international student from abroad and that English wasn’t her thing.

But you always have heard her yapping her ass off in English to others about the most random thing on the planet, so you don’t know why it’s a different case with you.

Whatever, you could eavesdrop. Your ears aren’t useless like her mouth is anyway to get something to blackmail her with. It wouldn’t be so difficult, you hope.

A friendship, or a tolerance in others’ perspective did bloom out of the dull ground, intertwining you two in some classes. Warily, (not eagerly) sticking by each other’s sides when needed.

Unnecessary amount of stuff you two discussed, one random question to another, having limited vague answers as the response. Carefully chosen by each momentarily pause, a dry ‘sure’, or ‘maybe’, not certain in most. Dreadfully, the talking rather you set you far back from your starting point.

Did this bimbo know anything, no connections to other bitches around here?

Her words created an untamed doubt brewing in the back of your head, a constant bother that something much more is going on than what she puts on. Painfully obviously so.

You had to get to the bottom of it, ASAP.

Weeks passed by, nearing a much-needed spring break for everyone. The last week, many people were planning late outings, parties, and hangouts for the holiday. You did agree to some of them, especially the parties, you knew what went on over there and loved it.

Yes, you were a hardcore (not really) virgin but that didn’t restrict you from having fun. Though nobody would notice. Like heated make-out sessions at the back, hidden from the blurry crowds under the blinding lights with music blasting the most unhinged thing was your type of night! And assuming that you were in the category of having one-nighters nearly every week was the norm.

These days, nothing was the norm. Everything becoming a dismissive matter to you. Bother, bother, and bother…

Until shockingly, Ningning invited you over to her apartment for a girl's night.

Whenever you did have the chance to hear about that woman; it was things like how hard-working she was, and how she always stayed up-to-date about the latest trends in clothing.

Managing to make anything on her look classy and chic.

Also, her apartment, through peoples’ eyes appeared to be ridiculously expensive. A pool and all, modern-day designs, and all. Humbly, she didn’t brag about it much to others, restricting it to a private part of her shallow life. The way some people knew was because there were parties hosted at her home occasionally, exposing every inch of her routine to others from the habits displayed physically.

Excluding the locked, hidden closet in her bedroom. Even then, her bedroom was locked as well, and no visitors were allowed.

If only you knew how much suffering she did to stand in her place by now.

That playing dumb was something she did very often to get what she want.

You accepted the invitation with careful consideration in your voice, ensuring she could sense the measured approach you took, in a subtle insulting way of course.

Upon arrival at the place, a soft gasp in awe and admiration was breathed out of your gaping lips in surprise; not expecting the girl’s exaggerated words of her home to be true.

Finally enough of the gawking, you took fast and hurried steps to the elevator, jabbing the button for it to swiftly rise to the skies.

Floor 11, room 67.

For reassurance, you kept repeatedly checking on the same message to make sure you were in the right place.

You were a little nervous when unfortunately seeing the right unit room.

Fisting your sweaty hands into a tight ball, you knocked on it firmly once, or twice just in case.

“It’s Y/n!” Awkwardly you called out and the door opened as if on demand when hearing your name.

Your breath hitched, stuck in your throat like mental wires constricting your ability to sputter out any words the moment your gaze fell on the woman: her wet dark hair carelessly hanging down to her chest, water dripping down to her jaw, and her casual clothes being just a small top barely covering her lower stomach and a short hugging her slick thighs.

Interestingly, a bulge was present in her chest, did she buy a cheap press-up bra from Temu or something? You wanted to laugh in her face but… the rest of her body distracted you.

About to explode, all blood streaming inside your body rushing solely to your cheek creating a burning red only achieved when running a deathly fever, you stood there in a deafening silence. Eyeing her carefully, not noticing there’s nobody else there.

“Couldn’t be asked to change since I just showered, but it doesn’t matter. We are both girls after all, right?” Ningning said cooly, stepping side for you to take the breath-taking view of the navy blue sky resembling the upcoming night, and the dark buildings lit by the endless windows for life not so far, glimmering white sparkles in a certain direction.

“Yeah,” dryly you agreed, trying to act nonchalant like you weren’t on the verge of fainting from the sight (her) a few seconds ago.

Glimpsing around, searching for another soul in this humongous place to ease the unknowingly growing tension in the air between you two, there was nobody.

Only you two, no one else to interfere.

“Where’s everyone else?” Out of curiosity, you chirped your spiraling thoughts loudly.

A melodic laugh rang out as your response, her head tilting back in joyful abandon, her long hair cascading like a dark waterfall around her shoulders, creating a wet stain on her shoulders. The rich, musical sound of her cackling filled the air, echoing with warmth, a contrast to her dark amusement.

“Silly, I invited you. Why would I invite anybody else?” Wiping the blossomed tear in the corner of her eye, she breathes, a pang of air needed clearly.

“I thought it was the girls’ night.” Specifically emphasizing ‘girls’, you rolled your eyes at her in annoyance. Wanting to leave already even though the night hasn’t started yet.

“The girls’ night for two of us.” Plopping on a nearby, extended beige couch, she lounged and stared at you in delight. Her dark eyes sparkled like the city behind her from the transparent walls.

How humorous, indeed… you thought sarcastically. Is this a setup or something?

Wine cups filled to the brim with an unfamiliar, pink color, most likely a unique cocktail, and the ice cubes floating above beside the small inedible pretty decorations. Damp leaves laid in the cup, sunk to the narrow bottom of the glass. It was two of them set up on the table invitingly and a jug of the contents, glowing in the dim living room and Ningning elegantly rose one up in the air.

“Cheers to our first night together?” She tilted her head, batting her eyelashes expectingly for you to join the playful interaction.

“And last,” you grumbled under your breath, brushing the delicate glasses carefully together creating a satisfying clink.

Gruffly, you sat down next to her but created a safe distance between you two and sipped out of the straw to soothe your dry throat.

“Like it?” Fraught in the inner to keep the hopeless conversation going, Ningning let out an audible exhale to the warm air, throwing her head back to rest on the couch to let the alcohol travel within her veins affecting her brain.

“It is nice.” Haunches over, you twirl the drink in your glass to entertain your growing boredom.

You shouldn’t have accepted this.

“Alcohol kickin’ in?” Not even one glass had passed yet, and the woman’s stability was deeply impacted by a mere fruity cocktail.

Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes glazed over in sheer excitement and desire, her hands inching closer enough to her thigh but didn’t reach. Yet.

“Drink, loosen up more baby…” she whispered, her dreamy words an easy influence on you.

Obediently, you gulped down the drink in one shot, your throat shuddering in protest. A strangled breath broke out, and you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, ruining the perfect red shade you used for tonight.

To impress, and you don’t know why.

What is the point of all this?

Extending your slightly trembling hands, gripping the crystal handle of the jug, you messily dunked it down to the cup and ruined its aesthetic in the first place. An opposite to Ningning who slowly consumed the cocktail, her both hands clutching on the upper part of the cup, the main holding.

The straw now futile, you swallowed the drink in whole, a burning determination ignited.

And the alcohol, ultimately did kick in.

“Mhm.” You lazily hummed, resting against the sofa, serene to sleep on there if needed.

In a sharp motion, Ningning stood up from her seat, wobbling over to the pool outside on the balcony. The whole action a dangerous hazard itself.

Following her to ensure no fatal accidents would occur that night, you heard a startled yell and your heart stopped. Your eyes snap over to where you heard it.

Her body blends under the cyber-blue pool, shining underneath the moonlight’s pale glow over the city. Playfully, she giggled high-pitched and swished around, nothing ever a problem since the water wasn’t deep. Perfect for her height.

“Get me—my phone,” she hiccuped, mixing with another squeaky giggle, throwing her head back against the cool edges.

You didn’t say a word, acting on her drunk demand to get her phone, though you cautiously reached out.

“Cold, isn’t it a little cold, Ningning?” Warily, you hoarse out.

No answer.

Propping it up at a bizarre angle, the phone’s camera a little broken letting the video stream’s quality wear down from her other (professionally done) videos, she waved at the camera, a sly smirk curled up on her lips like a mischievous idea sparked in her empty mind.

“Baby, come here…” she ushered, slapping the water.

Intoxication dumps your brain into a haze where nearly everything is deemed acceptable, nothing is ever too weird for you now. Hopping down to the pool with a resounding splash, your outdoor clothes sticking onto your wet body now, you shyly looked at the screen.

Ashamed; even when not knowing the context of this whole scenario, your eyes didn’t meet the camera, rather staying down or on the other woman.

“Sorry guys for the horrible setup for today… just had a few drinks or so with my friend. Say hi,” the lenses were blurry, creating a fuzzy effect limited to existing in dreams or nostalgia.

Movements choppily moved in each frame, the perverts on the live had no complaints, at least their precious content was being served.

At least money will be received.

“Hi,” gingerly, you muttered and actively avoided the eye contact with the camera.

“You know what this is for, right?” Ningning whispered, hiccuping amidst her slurred sentence.

You didn’t, too oblivious.

“No,” honestly you admitted. Oh, you were perfect for the woman.

“Sex,” she husked lowly, pulling out a strap-on from her visible bra under the thin shirt sticking to her like a second skin.

Stunned, you stared at her, this bizarre situation worse now for your drunken mind to deal with.

“You want? Be a guest to my sex show?” Raising an eyebrow teasingly, invading your space in the lurking water, the coolness of it doing nothing to calm you down.

“Yes.” Shocked by your reply, your eyes widened while her pupils dilated in desire to meet your trembling ones.

Her hands found themselves on the opposite sides of your waist at the edge of the pool, her lips sloppily pampering yours with a heated kiss, her tongue twirling around lazily with yours.

“Baby, do you need to follow the lead?” She cooed against your saliva-slickened lips, her needy hands massaging your breasts slowly, making sure you felt it.

Ningning internally was a little dumbstruck that it was crystal clear you didn’t know what you were doing, the magic alcohol did you some justice though.

Did she judge? No, she adored it, finding your inexperienced behavior adorable.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your heart racing as she gently turned you around, her hands creating a warm embrace as you leaned against the soft walls of the pool, feeling a mixture of excitement and a forbidden lust you didn’t want to accept.

“The viewers and I are going to love you…” messily dropping her soaking shorts down and throwing them aside on the balcony with no shame present whatsoever, she hastily adjusted the thick strap-on, letting it brush against your drenched clothed sex; casting an unintelligible moan.

“Must be uncomfortable, hm? Let me help you, sweetiee…” giggling in excitement, she yanked your pants and threw them out of sight.

Her teeth grazed against your moist skin, biting your shoulder blade and branding a light mark on it to distract you from an unfamiliar invasion slowly sinking in your ass from behind.

A whimper made her halt, caressing your body almost lovingly to give you a sense of comfort and reassurance. “It’ll be okay soon… you must not be used to this that much, hm? That’s alright, mm…” her hands groped your waist and let your body adjust to the girthy plastic entering you fully.

“I-I… it hurt, I-I’m not used to—”

“I can… tell sweetheart,” she hiccuped again, even sounding too confident then.

Your glossy eyes faced the beautiful scenery, but she didn’t want that.

She wanted your eyes on her instead.

Assisting your chin gently towards her, she pouted playfully. “Treat me like I’m that scenery, or whatever it is, yeah?”

Bending you over completely so it’s easier to get in deeper, letting your chest press against the floor, she held you tight. Too tight, even, her nails clawing in.

The thick head of the strap slams your sweet spot repeatedly, causing you to babble and moan like a broken record and she laughed at the sight, slapping and squishing your bright red ass cheeks cruelly now.

Unspoken promises about being gentle long gone now.

“Moan louder, moan louder, let our perverts see how much you want this…” she grunted, anomalistically hammering you in and out without any mercy for you to accommodate to the rough, undeserving flow.

When you tried to silence yourself, your numb hands reaching to muffle your filthy noises, she pinned your wrists violently together.

Insistent to hear you tonight.

“No, didn’t you fucking hear me? Louder.” Fisting your hair into a bundle in her hand, she pulled your head back and leaned closer to your ear.

“Let the viewers hear how much of a slutty bitch you are under that cocky and crude facade you have at college, ahuh?” Moonstruck, you cried out loudly when the thrusting turned erratic, making you chase a shattering orgasm sooner and sooner.

Tears sprung up mixing in with the water dripping down your chin, the fake cock not slowing down anytime soon as you mindlessly bubbled under your shallow breaths, feeling your stomach tighten.

“A-ah, I’m close—I’m really, really close-”

Shaking like a leaf caught up in a ruthless storm, you cummed and screamed throughout the whole apartment disturbing the poor neighborhoods’ serene stillness.

Satisfied, she paused and smirked at the camera, slowly pulling out and the cum coating the plastic.

You just had a second orgasm and the best one of your whole life.

About to go limp, she trapped you in her grip once again. “This isn’t over, baby. One orgasm isn’t enough for someone like me.” Pecking underneath your ear, she chuckled.

One orgasm was enough for you to pass out, imagine how much she wanted from you throughout this long, long night.

In the morning, surely you will be exhausted.

[flaming-shapeshifter]

hello would u potentially feel like sharing some of the victorian sex slang you know im writing gay sex set in 1847 and im struggling :(

hello! I would be delighted to; there is no higher use for the truly excessive amount of victorian porn I've read than to aid in this endeavour

Two caveats before I get into it: one, the main source that I used when I was originally researching victorian porn is a series of publications from the late 1870s/80s (I'll link the wikisource version and talk about it more at the bottom) and as such may not reflect exact usage for the period you're writing. I don't *think* language usually changes that fast, but I'm not a linguist so thought it worth mentioning. Where possible I've tried to cross reference with the oxford english dictionary to determine first recorded english usage, but the censorship laws of the time and subsequent lack of digitisation can make it difficult sometimes to get an accurate picture of popular usage. Two, language has changed quite a bit since the 19th century--there's a good chance the average ao3 reader is going to be relying very very heavily on context for several of the more unfamiliar words below, while others have had their meanings change a fair bit since that time. Should you choose to use them regardless, I commend you for your dedication to accuracy.

anyway, without further ado, a whole bunch of victorian sex vocab:

Genitalia &c.

I'm not sure what parts are involved in your gay sex and I'm a completionist, so you're getting all of them

priapus: the penis. A more high-brow, classical reference to the greco-roman god of fertility. English usage has been a thing since at least the canterbury tales, but it's unclear exactly at what point the usage transitioned from referring solely to the god (as in the tales) to a physical penis between the 14th and mid-late 19th centuries. However a medical dictionary from 1842 lists the definition very matter-of-factly as "penis" as well, so you should be good to go, especially with more formally educated/wealthy characters

pego: the penis, again. This one's been around since at least the 17th century and does not appear to have any alternative meanings; it also hit its peak usage for the 19th century in 1850 (by appearances in published texts), so definitely a safe bet

cock: the penis. This one is possibly both the oldest and the most modern of the penis-related nouns here; we use it in our smut today and used in to pun about sex all the way back in 15th century middle english. If you want something both recognisable and period-appropriate, this is your word.

prick: the penis. Similarly to cock, though slightly less common as a neutral/eroticised noun nowadays in my experience, "prick" has been in use since at least the 16th century, and has the benefit of being recognisable to the modern reader, though the connotations may have shifted slightly

roger: the penis. Usage in reference to said organ has been occurring since at least the 17th century, but by the 19th, it seems to be mainly in comical contexts, i.e. bawdy poetry.

quim: the vulva/vagina. Dates back to at least the early 17th century; most examples cited in the oxford english dictionary come from verse before the mid 19th, after which point it's all casual or erotica-type references.

cunny: vulva/vagina. thought to be a variant on "coney," which can in British English refer either to the organ or to a rabbit; this term has been in use since the late 16th century.

pussy/pussey: the vulva/vagina. A relatively recent term when used with regards to genitalia, dating to the late 17th century and only really gaining popularity in the mid 19th century. Probably the least likely to be used (with the possible exception of verse), but one of the most recognisable to a modern reader

cunt: the vulva/vagina. You could write a period-appropriate-language black plague au with this one (as "cunte" per middle english spelling) and still have it be recognisable for the modern reader. 1847? fucking go for it

mons veneris: the mons pubis. Often capitalised as "Mons Veneris"; seems to get mentioned at least once in every pornographic story involving ciswomen, possibly due to the classical reference to Venus and its associations. Cismen also have this structure (though it's smaller due to the lower level of estrogen), but tragically it does not get the same veneration. Usage increased steadily from the mid 17th century and peaked in the late 1800s.

clitoris: the clitoris. Dates from at least the early 17th century and has grown in popularity ever since; "clit," in contrast, only appears in writing in the mid 20th century and would be rather anachronistic.

bubbies: the breasts, pretty much always a woman's. The spelling didn't transition to "booby"/"boobies" in reference to breasts until the early-mid 20th century (previously, as a noun, a "booby" was merely a fool); "bubbies" was the way to go from at least the 17th century up until that point

ballocks/bollox/bollocks: the testicles. Similarly to "pussey," I add this one mostly for the sake of spelling, which varied mostly between "ballocks" and "bollocks" but doesn't seem to be standardised in colloquial English spelling until the very late 20th century, if at all. In use since the 15th century.

British slang referring to the ass (bum, arse, &c.) generally translates pretty well to the point where I don't feel it necessary to give them their Victorian-specific entries.

Much like modern writing, the Victorians seemed to enjoy figurative language for their genitalia--horses are an unfortunately common point of comparison for penises, but "Cupid's dart" and "engine of love" are also common euphemisms. Cavern-related language and "gap of love" are their equals for the vagina, but overall, there's not many metaphors you could make up that would feel inappropriate to the era.

Actions

Presented in the infinitive form; normal English rules for verb conjugations/spelling generally apply.

gamahuche: to perform oral sex, most frequently on someone with a vagina. A borrowing from French as of the late 18th century that seems to have mostly died out in the modern day--I don't think I've ever heard someone say "gamahuche" out loud unless referencing Victorian pornography

frig: to finger someone/give a handjob, or (less frequently), stimulate them internally with a separate moving object. Worth noting that the meaning of this one does appear to refer more and more specifically to internal stimulation over the course of the late 19th and 20th centuries, but all uses should be appropriate for 1847.

fuck: to penetrate (or mimic penetration i.e. via intercrural sex) specifically with a penis. According to the Victorians, if there's not a penis involved, it doesn't realllly count as sex, which is part of why so much focus on homosexuality was specific to male/male homosexual activity (more on that later). This particular word has been in recognisable use since at least the 16th century, gets used frequently in the 19th in the appropriate situations, and is very recognisable to the modern reader; 10/10 would recommend. Also varies in usage by location such as in the case of "bum-fuck"

sodomy (n)/sodomise: to engage in any form of penetrative sex other than penile/vaginal, regardless of gender. Typically more legal terminology than colloquial, and pretty much always used in a negative sense of an "act against nature"; equals "cunt" and "cock" in antiquity as it dates back probably to the 14th century

bugger: to act as the penetrative party in anal sex with a phallic instrument (whether dildo or penis), regardless of gender. not quite as old a term as sodomy, being first found in legal writings in the 16th century, but definitely a more common-use term for the time.

pederasty: to engage in specifically male/male anal sex. As may be deduced from the word components, this carries the connotation of a large age gap between the persons involved, and may originate from the ancient greek practice of sexual apprenticeships (for lack of a better word) between a teenage-ish boy and an older man. Despite these connotations, it could be used to refer to any partnering of male/male sex, but tended to be a comparatively academic term. English written usage dates back to at least the early 17th century.

spend: to orgasm, particularly if fluids are involved (regardless of genitalia). In use since at least the 17th century and may carry connotations for the modern reader relating to the cultural emphasis on sex for the purpose of procreation alone

come: to orgasm. This one has been ol' reliable for smut writers since the earl 17th century at least and continues to be so today

Language tends to be more descriptive with regards to acts rather than using specific words--then again, one could consider that just another form of the "show, don't tell" maxim.

Items involved

French letter: a condom. This terminology would be very recent for '47, having only started appearing in English in the early 1840s--similarly, they would be made of treated linen or bladder/intestine (a "skin" condom) at the time, as rubber condoms were not produced until the 1850s

cundum/condom: a condom. An older term than the letter, though only by a century; the latter (modern) spelling dominates usage in the 19th century

godemiche: a dildo. Another loanword from french, this would also be fairly recent language, as it appears to have only entered written English usage in the early 1830s. Not a super common turn of phrase either way

dildoe/dildo: a dildo. In use in writing since the late 16th/early 17th century, the use of flexible materials such as leather or (in the latter half of the 19th century) vulcanised rubber allowed for the creation of ejaculating versions which could also be set in harnesses to be used as what we would now call a strap-on

On the subject of lube: "lube," unsurprisingly, is not a word in use at the time; nor, for that matter, is "lubricant" as we use it in reference to the wonderful additive for sexual intercourse today. In the works I've analysed, anal sex is mostly conducted using saliva or vaginal fluids as lubricant, if a lubricating substance is used at all; the one exception to this is a reference to "cold cream" used for male/male anal sex, which appears to be a perfumed spermaceti- and wax-based substance intended for skincare and has been in use since the early 19th century at least

Culture

identity: as you may be aware, "homosexuality" as a term didn't become a thing until the sexological period of the latter half of the 19th century; up until that era, anglophone culture didn't really have a conceptualisation of sexuality as an innate characteristic. Rather, sex acts were entirely something that you did, regardless of the genders involved, which is how we get period words like "tribade," which referred simply to women who had sex with women without concern for attraction.

legality: for britain specifically, male/male gay sex warranted a death sentence in regular courts up until 1861, after which the sentence changed to imprisonment--legal scholars at the time deemed this change likely to result in more successful prosecutions, as courts were previously hesitant to indict when doing so meant capital punishment. Female/female gay sex, in contrast, was completely ignored by the law, as said law was completely focused on penises. Similarly, american courts (which were based on british law) would later rule in the years surrounding the turn of the 20th century that oral sex performed on a penis was illegal regardless of gender due to being sodomitic in nature, but cunnilingus was perfectly fine.

social perception: similar to the law, male/male sex was regarded as taboo such that it was generally talked around rather than named up until sexology started gaining ground (sexological texts were then promptly blamed for teaching people how to do gay sex). Based on newspaper op-eds that I unfortunately don't have on hand right now, all-male settings such as sailing vessels (especially sailing vessels) were seen as particular bastions of such activity. female/female sex? generally disregarded as harmless, particularly in all-female settings such as schools.

Bonus

At least in the latter half of the century, impact play in the genital region (particular with a rod or "birch," but any flogging implement would seem to do) was treated in both pornographic and psycho-medical sexological texts as a commonly acknowledged method of attaining arousal, to the point that at least one author raised concerns about the continued use of flogging as punishment in boys' schools. Huzzah for Victorian kink friendliness, I guess?

Further Reading/References

Unless otherwise noted, all etymology, usage trends, and century of (written) origin is based on the Oxford English Dictionary.

"The Pearl: A Journal of Facetiæ and Voluptuous Reading." William Lazenby, London Society of Vice, 1879-1881. https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Pearl.

This is the Victorian porn publication I mentioned earlier, notable for its portrayals of gay sex compared to Lazenby's later publications such as The Oyster. Should you choose to do your own reading, it's worth noting that stories tend to involve topics of major consent issues, incest, underage sex and pedophilia, and period-typical misogyny, and racism. An interesting note about this particular publication is that it was relatively expensive for its time--apparently, the upper class liked their illicit gay smut.

Robley Dunglison • Medical Lexicon. A New Dictionary of Medical Science, containing a concise account of the various subjects and terms, … and formulae for … preparations etc • 3rd edition, 1842

For the medical definition of "priapus" as it refers to the penis.

Hernández, Anna. “Mons Pubis: What Is It, Location, and More | Osmosis.” Osmosis, January 6, 2025. https://www.osmosis.org/answers/mons-pubis.

Aine Collier (2007). The Humble Little Condom: A History. Buffalo, N.Y: Prometheus Books.

Beyond the scope of this post, for the most part, but if you're interested in writing period-accurate safer sex practices, it may be worth a look.

Saunders, T., and Edward Cox. The Criminal Law Consolidation Acts, 1861: The Other New Criminal Statutes and Parts of Statutes of the Sessions 1861 and 1862; Together With A Digest of the Criminal Cases Decided by The Court of Criminal Appeal, The Superior Courts, the Central Criminal Court, and on the Circuits. From 1848 to 1862. 2nd ed. London: J. Crockford, 1862.

Includes contemporary legal analyses of the changes to British legal punishment of male homosexual activity, as mentioned in the Culture section.

Richard von Krafft-Ebing, Psychopathia Sexualis, with Especial Reference to Contrary Sexual Instinct: A Medico-Legal Study., trans. Charles Gilbert Chaddock, 7th ed. (Philadelphia; London: F.A. Davis Co., 1892).

Psycho-medical perspectives on homosexuality and other "abnormal" sexual tendencies in the late Victorian era; contains a whole bunch of autobiographical testimonies. The downside is that anything touching on homosexual activity (which for academics at the time also included gender non-conformity) has been censored by being translated to Latin; you'll need to look at the 1960s or later for a fully English translation.

B. R. Burg. Boys at Sea: Sodomy, Indecency, and Courts Martial in Nelson's Navy. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007.

A look specifically at social attitudes in the purportedly all-male spaces of naval vessels; though slightly earlier (~1790-1820) than the 1847 time period, it stands to reason that characters familiar with that environment may continue to bear attitudes shaped by it. Unfortunately it may be difficult to access without being able to go through a university-level library system.

Lorraine Rumson, “Kink in the Time of Sexology: An Interdisciplinary Approach to ‘Abnormal Sexuality’ in Victorian Culture,” in Kink and Everyday Life: Interdisciplinary Reflections on Practice and Portrayal, 1st ed. (Bingley, UK: Emerald Publishing Limited, 2021).

An interesting analysis of social attitudes based on pornographic depictions, and contains further resources for Victorian pornography--unfortunately, I no longer have the book on hand to give specific names of texts, but they do exist ("Venus in Furs" is one that I do recall); alternatively, if you want older pornographic works, "Fanny Hill" and anything by the Marquis de Sade are worth looking into, albeit with the same content warnings as I mention for The Pearl.

Donald Hall. “Teaching Victorian Pornography: Hermeneutics and Sexuality.” Victorian Review 34, no. 2 (2008): 19–25. http://www.jstor.org/stable/27793665.

Another resource for identifying Victorian pornographic works, and this one's easily available on JSTOR if you have access or scihub if you don't.

[ciaoteamo]

can i convince you to write gn!reader with francis mosses? but like… the kicker is a weird one… he’s lactating (can either be a usual occurrence or a weird situation for them) and asks the reader to help

Gøt Milk?

pairings: Milkman x reader

summary: anons request of course!

warning: 18+ content

“oh, you’re back again i see” You tilt your head to the man opposite of you.

“miss me?” He asks.

“how have you not been killed yet?” Usually doppelgängers couldn’t hang around for too long as the same thing, otherwise people get suspicious and report them.

“i have my ways… are you gonna let me in easy this time? or do i need to show up your D.D.D. douchebags again” He questions.

“well, you know i can never make anything easy for you… what’s on your shirt?” You ask, seeing wet spits welling up right where you assume his nipples are.

“huh? damn it” He rolls his eyes once he realizes.

“is this some sort of abnormality?” You ask.

“you humans swear you know everything” He mumbles.

“well, is it?” You smirk.

“whatever, yes. just help me get rid of it i’ve been dealing with this shit for weeks now after you” He huffed.

“after me? you were the horny bastard that came in here first asking for ‘help’ ” You raise an eyebrow.

“besides, i don’t do favors for jerks” You shrug him off and take a peek at your clock.

“look, (Y/N)-“ He says, voice disoriented, taking you by surprise. He had a fist on the window that he quickly loosened once he saw you look at it.

“quite the temper you have”

“i’m sorry, just- look im desperate right now and you’re making this difficult for me…” His forehead was on the glass and he looked down in defeat.

“awe, i thought that’s what you liked?” You say, getting close to the glass to catch his eye.

He looked at you with knitted eyebrows and an almost pitiful expression. You roll your eyes and press the unlock button, succumbing to the pity.

“hurry up before i change my mind..” You sigh.

As if you needed something else to worry about today.

He came in quickly, and you lock the door again. You could tell he was biting back a shit eating grin.

He closed the door and stood a little awkwardly this time around. “so… what are you gonna do?”

“well obviously i’ll just squeeze it out… do you carry glasses with your get up? or did you just copy his clothes” You cross your arms.

“well i’m not really going door to door so no, i don’t have glasses” he answers, matter of factly.

You approach him, peering at the wet spots that adorned his button up. His nipples looked larger than last time.

You reach out and unbutton down until his pecs were in full display. You could see the beads of milk forming and dripping down the pink areola.

“oh my..” You gently touch one with your thumb and he tenses. With a little more pressure, his hand flew up to grab yours.

“whatever the feeling is, its too much. it’s overwhelming, yet relieving somehow” He explains.

You catch him off guard and use your other hand you squeeze until you saw the white liquid spray out. He choked and groaned, grabbing your hand once again.

“hm..” You look around the office for something to hold the liquid in. You kept your office very neat so there was only a large fast food cup in the trash can and your half empty hydro flask.

You grab the cup from the can and open your flask.

“we’ll use these. don’t worry about this coming from the trash, it only had ice in it beforehand. but you can drink the rest of the water in here if you think it’ll overflow” You inform him.

“also, sit here. ‘cause i’m still gonna give you a hard time” You wink. “if im gonna help you, you’re gonna help me as well”

He sits in your rolling chair and leaned back in the usual man spread position, chest heaving a bit from what you did earlier.

“you see this clipboard? and these folders? they have all of the information for the neighbors that are coming in today. i don’t know if you’ll need it but you know the rules here.” You start.

“for every doppelgänger you catch, i’ll reward you” You propose.

“and i’ll squeeze these baby’s until their dry while we wait on the next person to walk in”

“that’s a piece of cake for me, i can sense other dopplegangers you know?” He says, finally letting you see his over confident grin again.

“don’t care, like i said, you’re doing something for me in return, and this is it. hope you’re looking forward to it since you’re so comfy about it” Your eyes stare into his. His face goes a little pink and you chuckle.

“…oh lucky you! here they come” You push him out of the line of vision and stand in front of the window. “hi, how are you today?”

“i’m well! how are you” The neighbor replied.

“doppelgänger” You hear from the side. You look at the person in front of you. It certainly looked like a neighbor.

“ID please” The woman slides her ID through and you check to see that her name is typed complete backwards.

You close the security window and call D.D.D.

“wait, so you don’t even need to see them to know?” You whisper to the man in your corner. He shakes his head no and you hum to yourself.

D.D.D. comes to clean and you engage in the shirt conversation they have with you. “alright, we’re heading back now… but, (Y/N)?”

“yes?”

“where’s your chair today?” The suited man asks.

“oh, i’m trying to lose weight so im standing this shift” You answer with a smile.

“oh, well you look great already, so don’t push yourself too hard!” He waved and you wave back.

“that was sweet of him” You chuckle. You feel eyes burning a hole into your head and see ‘Francis’ glaring.

“ yOu lOoK gReat alReaDy” He mocked.

“don’t be jealous, it wouldn’t kill you to compliment me” You poke his forehead.

“yeah? well how abou- mmfuck” His annoyance, now diluted by his heightening sense of ecstasy.

“so much better when you aren’t nagging me” You had the reused cup pressed under peck while you massaged the area around his nipple

You tug at it and watch him writhe with the harsh sound of the milk hitting the button of the cup. With your skilled hands, the cup was reaching the halfway mark and his hands were digging into the back of your thighs.

“please…be a little more gentle” He gulps and his adam’s apple slowly bobs.

“we won’t be getting anywhere like that now would we?” You tease, giving him a quick kiss on the corner of his agape mouth.

He shuddered every once in a while and was sweating up a storm. You were kind of envious of the amount of pleasure these things could receive. He was pitching a mountain top before you, and just as the cup was full half way, uou hear the footsteps of another.

You set the cup aside and stand from and center, leaving the man disheveled and thankful for a break from the near overstimulation.

“hi how are you?” You beam at the neighbor. They slide in their I.D. and you skim over it before hearing ‘Francis’ speak up again with a groggy voice.

“human”

“Enjoy your day” You smile and unlock the door, making sure to lock it back. The neighbor smile’s and nods a thank you once inside.

“another good call, you’re on a roll” You smile back at him, feeling a little excited to torture help his other nipple now.

“i’m glad you came to me for this Franny. I never did get an apology for how you left my office last time, you know?” You tilt your head, leaning over the sitting man with a mischievous grin.

“oh yeah, i’m sorry about that” He sorrily smiled.

“no no no, it’s too late. you won’t be leaving until i fulfill my duty here today “ You pat his cheek.

Doppelgängers don’t have morals, no feelings, not a care in the world. And for the first time, you, (Y/N), have made one feel fear, lust, and regret all at once.

And with a talent like that? How could he ever leave you alone?

-end-

AN: what if i posted tiktoks at the end or start of my asks? idk i feel like it would be cool since tiktok’s gonna be gone in like 8 months 😭

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! sorry it look a bit lol.

[thecordelialetters]

I’ll love you in every multiverse I Five Hargreeves x Reader

WC: 1,791

Post Apocalypse Au! ( Yes Im writing another one )

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Summary: The Umbrella’s can understand jumping through time and all its rules, yeah fuck with the timeline and it’ll fuck you right back. But what happens when a portal opens up in the middle of the academy and outfalls a girl who claims to be Five’s wife from a different universe.

Disclaimer: This takes place after season one if Viktor didn’t blow up the moon.

The Umbrella Academy had saved the world from its supposed end. The siblings had lounged around the academy slowly letting reality set that they had avoided their demise. It was the next morning when each of them woke up to check their surroundings, making sure that doomsday wasn’t there.

Five went downstairs for his morning coffee when he saw Allison scrolling for flights on her phone and Klaus checking where was the next place he could buy drugs.

“Leaving so soon?” He questioned.

Allison looked up at him although happy to see her brother, guilty because he was right.

“I have to go see my daughter. After everything that has happened I need her now just as much as she needs me.”

Five nodded his head, understanding where she was coming from, although a little irked she wasn’t wasting any time running away.

A loud zap was heard and wind swirled toward the top of the room. A red portal had opened above the living room. The rest of the siblings (Luther, Viktor, Diego) had rushed down to see what the loud noise was. It was deja vu, like when Five had returned for the first time. In the portal, they could see a fight happening. Figures that had looked like them in a place that looked like their home. A woman’s back came close to the portal, they could see she was in combat but stood observing. Another man who they couldn’t identify, rushed forward and pushed the woman through the portal.

A girl who looked to be in her early twenties had fallen through. Her face was covered in soot, her hair black as night, and her eyes closed in pain. She was wearing a navy body suit that clung to her figure, and blood, not her own, stained the fabric.

The Hargreeves gathered around to observe this strange phenomenon trying to assess the danger. They were so used to people being against them, so why would this time be different.

You coughed loudly before sitting up, and each sibling tensed with adrenaline. The girl looked around the room with blazing blue eyes before she landed on the youngest Hargreeves.

“Five?” you questioned.

Everyone turned to look at Five.

Luther spoke up first, “You know her?”

“I have never met her in my life.” Five retorted.

The girl dusted off her suit before standing. “Well if you never met me, you either will meet me or I’m dead in this universe.”

“The names y/n , y/n Hargreeves.”

“I don’t remember our father adopting anyone else,” Diego said. He raised his knives, carefully ready to strike at any move she would make.

“That’s because I wasn’t adopted into this family. Married actually.” And with this, she held up her left hand, a beautiful diamond ring shone in the light with a gold band beneath it. The diamond was embellished with 2 smaller emeralds on the side, perhaps representing her lover’s eyes.

“Married? To who.” Viktor questioned.

“To him.” She looked back at Five.

“Well not to him, an alternate version of him. We met a few years ago and got married, nice seeing the family again,” she nodded her head towards the siblings.

“So what are you saying you guys are married in a different timeline?” Klaus asked.

“No, not a different timeline, a different universe.” She sat down on the couch.

Your brain felt like it was rattling against your skull, and your body ached. You took a minute to think. Fuck, it was going to be difficult to get back to your Earth, and to make things better you had no idea where to start.

“Alright before you all start firing questions at me, someone get me a cup of coffee, black please.” You threw a jacket that hung over the couch on you to hide the state of your clothes. "Allow me," The alternate of your husband said. Five quickly blinked the two of you into the car and began to drive, leaving his brothers and sisters dumbfounded. "So you and I, are married in another multiverse."

"Correct." "You look to be about my age, how come I haven't met you yet here." Surely he would remember someone as beautiful as you. "Well it's as I said, my version here could be dead or you might not have met her yet. That being said although 18 out of the 20 multiverses I have visited, we are together." "And the other two?" "In Earth 216, we are strangers, never have crossed paths, and never will. We simply live our lives with other people." Five's eyebrows furrowed. For some reason even if he didn't know you, he didn't like the idea of you with someone else. "In Earth 894, we were madly in love but our egos destroyed us, and we were never the same since." Five could tell there was more to that story but didn't press any further. "So tell me about us, how did we end up together." "I was Diego's friend first, he and I met in the police force. Diego kinda took me under his wing as I was the youngest graduate out of the academy. Perks of having a high IQ." Five raised his eyebrow at that. "Anyways, he invited me over after your father's funeral. " "Long story short, you fell in love with my charms and I was the only one who could tolerate you. We got married not too long after. It was a small wedding but it's my most precious memory. Our families had gathered together at the church no too far away from here. You cried on our wedding day by the way." Inciting a side glare from Five.

"But...that's where we had some problems." "Do you remember when I fell out of that portal?" Five nodded his head remembering seeing a fight in the alternate dimension. "Well, apparently some of the 43 are not too happy about their powers, nor happy about living among the common people, they believed themselves superior and it became chaos." The two of you arrived at Griddys. Five walked over to the side of your door and opened it for you. "Thank you, darling." You said with a smile. Five's heart spiked at the nickname. He shook his head at the feeling, obviously, it's just what you were used to calling YOUR Five. The two of you sat at the counter and ordered your coffees and sweets. You signed before pulling out a small stack of photos from inside your suit. "This is us and your family." The photo was a picture of you and Five on your wedding day. Five had never looked so happy. Beside him was Luther who he assumed was his best man, next to him was Viktor, Diego, and a man who looked like you. You must have caught his staring, "That's my brother Damien." He nodded and looked beside you. You were wearing a long white dress with intricate lacing, the dress was strapless with a square neckline and had a small slit on the side. Your veil was flipped over your head and flowed down your back. Beside you, was Allison as your maid of honor and two other women who he assumed were your friends. You weren't looking at the camera but at him. The next picture you gave him was a close-up of the two of you. You were the one taking the photo. His alternate self was older and had longer hair and facial hair, but he faced your side kissing your cheek affectionately. "This is my favorite photo of you." You handed him another photograph but this one didn't have you in it. This one was a picture of just Five and in his arms a little girl. She looked like you. Five gulped, a million questions ran through his head. Could this... could this have been his future if he didn't make that stupid jump? You said that not all multiverses are the same, you and him could never meet in this one. But that didn't stop his heart from hurting at the thought of missing out on a life of happiness because of his arrogance. "Before you jump to conclusions, she's not ours. She's my niece that we were babysitting. You just looked so sweet with her. You had always told me you wanted kids before but I wasn't ready." You had looked away sadly. In your home, Five always wanted to settle down and raise a family of his own, but you felt like you weren't ready. Now you regretted not because you weren't sure if you would ever be able to get back home. The two of you sat in silence drinking your coffee, both thinking about the what-ifs. "So...how did you end up here. I've been able to time travel but I've never thought about the possibility of multi-dimensional traveling." "As I said there was a fight between us, your family, and some of the 43. They called themselves the Ascendants. Believe to be the superior race." You took a deep breath before continuing. "The Ascendants had a man who could travel the multiverse with his own power, no special gear or machine need. We had planned to capture him but miscalculated. He was ready for us and he aimed to take out me, his biggest threat."

You took another breath before looking into Five's eyes. "I can warp reality. It is essentially in the name. I can manipulate reality itself, altering the fabric of existence according to my will." "But not without a cost," you continued. "Each time I control something, and the bigger it is, the more of my life force I use." Five sat in silence. This was a lot of information to take in. "So what now. How do I help you get back home." "I have...no clue. You were always the smarter one of the two of us. You were the one who had built the machine, of course before it was destroyed when Viktor took out the house." You sighed. It was going to take a lot of research and time to figure it out. "Well, I'm newly retired and have nothing on my plate so let's start at the library." He hopped off the stool and made his way to the door. "You coming?" He said turning to look at you. You smiled, he was a great man. Even if this Five wasn't your husband you loved him no matter what. You ran up looping your arm in his making your way out of Griddy's. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ Pt 2 of this story is out now!

Author's note: I got tons of drafts just full of ideas I've had and never gone through with. I've been rewatching the MCU films and Spiderverse so that was kinda my inspiration for this one. If you like my work check out my other Five stories here! I also always appreciate comments and feedback! It definitely keeps me going. She's my Angel Pt1. Shes my Angel Pt2.