#they thought they were from two different worlds but they have the same view and soul | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yieldtotemptation · 2 months ago

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CRASH ft. Wonyoung

wonyoung x male reader smut

11k words

When she wanted to be (and it was often), Jang Wonyoung could be a real fucking bitch.

If you were to ask her, she’d probably say the same about you.

And yet, that doesn’t stop her from calling you in the middle of the night, slurring about some shit with her manager, telling (not asking) you to come pick her up.

You’re inclined to recommend that she fuck off and find her own way home.

But of course, you don’t. (You never do).

“Sorry boys, my ride’s here!”

There’s a collective groan of disappointment that ripples through the crowd that’s formed up behind Wonyoung; each face falling one after another as they realise that ultimately none of them get to be the lucky suitor that takes her home.

Moths around a flame, unable to do anything but watch as she sashays through the neon haze towards your car. Hips sway with a drunken grace, a dangerously short skirt dances around her thighs, high heels strapped to her feet make her legs seem endless.

It’s a view, that’s for sure.

It probably makes the pain of rejection a little more bearable, makes them forget that they’re being abandoned on the sidewalk with all the rest of the has-beens and ‘who the fuck were you again?’

Her ‘co-workers’, technically. Some you recognise, most you don’t. But they’re all basically the same insecure douchebag in a different shade of overpriced streetwear.

You’d probably be doing the world a public service if you were to steer your car onto the pavement and run them all down.

It’s an idea you entertain a little. Doing it would really ruin her night.

That’d almost make it worth the dent it would put in your brand-new car.

Still, you can’t completely blame the gaggle of potential casualties, not really.

It’s Wonyoung.

Girls like her are the reason they invented the word ’idol’ in the first place, because calling her ’pretty’ or ’hot’ is like calling the Mona Lisa ‘a nice portrait’.

It doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Like the starlet she is, Wonyoung waits until she’s at your car to make her grand exit. A turn to her adorers and a final goodbye: a casual flick of her wrist, a sweet, flirty smile and a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wink that’ll have them deep in their group chats ranting about how they definitely had a moment with the Jang Wonyoung.

You just roll your eyes. You’ve seen that wink a hundred times.

You know exactly how much it’s worth.

After all, it’s your car that she’s climbing into, slamming the door behind her like it’s her name on the registration; leaving behind her new fan club with nothing but their dicks in their hands and their heads swimming with fantasies of what totally could have happened.

You’re no better though, are you? The second she slides into the passenger seat, you’re judging the shortness of her skirt, eyes greedily tracing the length of her thighs, all the way up to a hint of lace that’s destined to be ruined later.

You’re not subtle. And in that outfit, she’s not either.

“What took you so long? I swear to God I’m going to punch the next guy that asks me ‘how much of a baddie I really am’.”

No thank yous, no pleasantries, not even a look in your direction.

To think that you used to be impressed by how quickly she could drop the act: gone is the sugary sweetness that she’d fooled those simps with back at the club; the pretty, airheaded, ‘lucky Vicky’. As fake and useless as the glasses resting on the bridge of her perfectly shaped nose.

Next to you is the real Wonyoung, the one that you’ve become intimately familiar with: intimidatingly smart, unfathomably hot, and all too aware of how dangerous a woman those two traits made her.

“Why is this car black? I thought I told you to get the red?”

You glare at her. The gall on this woman.

“What are you waiting for? Drive.”

Barely a minute in and she’s setting a personal best record for time taken to piss you off; impatiently kicking off her heels, tossing them over her shoulder and into the back seat (of again: your car, not hers).

You can be just as childish: you slam your foot down, pedal to the floor, wheels screeching, and you peel off into the night. The acceleration forces Wonyoung back into her seat, scrambling for her seat belt, yelling, “What the fuck?”

Now she’s looking at you. You’re casual, offering, “Oh, sorry, did I scare the passenger princess?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, and you’re welcome,” you grumble, slowing to a more reasonable (legal) speed as you turn onto the highway. “Remind me, when was it that I started operating a taxi service for wasted idols?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She rolls her eyes, puts her hands together, bows her head down low. Rich, coming from someone who’s never had to genuinely apologise for anything in her life. “Didn’t realise washed-up trainees had such precious schedules.”

It’s a low blow, her go-to insult for you. Nothing you’re not used to; it’s been years of this, after all.

Years of Wonyoung, the living reminder of your biggest failure, making your life her personal pet project. Years of her smugness, of her flaunting her success in your face, of her demanding more from you, demanding better.

Years of you pushing back, pushing her, and somehow always ending up in the same place, the same bed, the same tangled mess of sweat and spite.

To think it all started when you saw her across that shitty practice room and one of you (you forget who, though it was probably her) said the wrong thing at the wrong time, and it was pure hate at first sight.

“Couldn’t get literally anyone else? Don’t you have friends?” You throw the question out there, keeping your eyes on the road, and not down at her legs, crossing and uncrossing, teasing and taunting. It’s a herculean task—she’s practically ninety percent leg anyway; so fucking easy to admire, so right wrapped around your waist.

“Trust me, I tried. None of the girls have their license, I definitely can’t call someone from the company, and the last time I tried to get a taxi the fucker recognised me and threatened to leak my address. So that leaves me with you,” Wonyoung sighs. “The last resort.”

“Wow, what an honour,” is your reply. You’re still not looking—not sneaking glances at her stomach, as she stretches in your passenger seat.

As an exercise, you pretend she doesn’t exist. Pretend that the hem of her shirt isn’t rising up, peeling back to grace you with a glimpse of her midriff, that waist, her abs tight and exerted after a night spent out on a dance floor.

It nearly works—for a second, you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed at her.

Right until Wonyoung laughs. Not that fake, high-pitched giggle that she knows you find so grating. No, this has an edge to it, a bite that she reserves just for you. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t waiting for me to call. Or were you in the middle of jerking it to my fancams again?”

There’s the memory, the one loss in territory you haven’t quite recovered from. (A reminder: be less blasé about what you choose to name your saved playlists.)

You fire back with, “Yujin’s actually, but nice try.”

“Whatever, pervert.” Your attempt at a riposte doesn’t work, it’s dismissed, leaving Wonyoung satisfied that she’s won this exchange.

As for her prize, she does what she always does—gets touchy with your property.

She busies herself, fiddling with the touchscreen on your dashboard—’What the fuck is this playlist?’ and 'Why do you listen to this group? You know all those girls are absolute bitches, right?’.

“Stop that.” You reach over to slap her wrist before she starts getting too ambitious and messes with the temperature controls again.

"Hey!” Wonyoung yelps, recoiling, and then pauses. You turn to her, see her annoyingly flawless features scrunch up in disgust as she asks, “What’s that smell?”

You curse under your breath as you realise what’s coming. Wonyoung’s frustratingly sensitive when it comes to scents; she’s got a nose like a bloodhound—and a penchant for sticking it in the parts of your life she doesn’t belong.

She’s gone as far as 'gifting’ you every perfume you’ve owned, every body wash, every shampoo, even your fucking laundry detergent.

Just another way she’s tried to take over your life.

You give your own car a whiff, if only to see if this is just another case of Wonyoung being a brat.

It doesn’t smell bad at all.

In fact, it smells sweet. Too sweet.

“Ew, seriously, what is that? Is that you?”

You’re too slow—she’s got your forearm now. For someone that looks so delicate she’s got a grip like a vice. She brings your wrist up to her nose, sniffing, making her way higher up your arm.

“Let it go, Wonyoung.”

She’s not listening at all, unbuckling her seat belt, leaning over the console, pulling herself closer to you, pushing her body against yours. Whatever little respect Wonyoung had for your personal space is gone; her nose is on your neck, her breath hot against your skin.

“It smells like…” She pauses, getting even closer, taking a deep inhale as she tries to place the fragrance. “Why do you smell like a whore?”

Her voice is low, coloured with a barely noticeable slur. You can feel it: the powder keg about to explode, Wonyoung getting ready to go from zero to a hundred. So, you deflect, “Sure you’re not smelling yourself?”

“Fuck you, I don’t use that cheap shit,” she snaps. “You fucked someone tonight, didn’t you?”

You don’t reply. It’s not like you owe her one, anyway—she’s not your girlfriend, you’re not her boyfriend, you two are…

Rivals, mortal enemies, fuck-buddies, friends-with-benefits (except without the whole friendship part).

(Take your pick, call it whatever you want, or in Wonyoung’s case: don’t call it anything at all.)

“Who—who was it this time?” Wonyoung’s fingers tighten around your arm, and there’s that spark in her eyes.

Every chance she gets, she’ll insist she gives so few fucks about your personal life, but one mention of another woman and she’s diving right in the mud, for once not hiding the fact that she may actually give a shit about you.

It’s probably why you do it.

“Who’s the slut dumb enough to spread her legs for you?”

Now it’s your turn to avoid her gaze, to pretend that having her this close isn’t doing wild things to your heartrate. You make an unforced error: “None of your business.”

“So you did fuck someone.” Her hand moves down your arm, dragging her fake acrylics across your skin until they find purchase in your thigh, digging in hard enough to make you flinch. “You fucked someone I know didn’t you. Who…” She’s reading you, trying to find the answer somewhere in the stress lines of your face. “Hyewon. Yena. Yuri. I swear if it was fucking Eunbi, I’m going to—”

“Going to what?” You challenge. You know this game. You’ve played it before—every damn time she gets like this (and you know where it leads). “Going to lie to me about your own personal survival show back there?”

Wonyoung scoffs. It’s a throaty sound that seems almost foreign coming from her—too impolite, too uncouth for the elegant, refined image she’s painstakingly cultivated. But she makes it anyway, because she’s had a few too many drinks and you’re the only one who’s around to see her like this—raw, unfiltered. “Those losers? I’m not like you, bringing home every pair of tits that strokes your ego.”

“Good to know that I’m special then,” you smirk, but she’s not smiling back.

No, she’s just looking at you, in that annoying, Wonyoung way. It’s those big, doe eyes of hers that you’ve seen do so much damage before—make men bend over backwards, light themselves on fire just to get her to look their way. “You wish.”

You push on, push her just a little bit. “Drop the act, Wony. I wasn’t your last resort—I’m the only one you even considered. You needed your daddy—isn’t that what you were calling me before?”

“I never said that.”

“Wony—”

“And if I did, I’ll never say it again,” she declares, before emphasising. “Never. Again.”

But you know her better than that. You know her lies just as well as she knows yours; it’s in the quickness of her response, the defensiveness—the vulnerability.

“I doubt that,” you say, making the most of the tiny crack in Wonyoung’s armour. “I remember you screaming it. Had you cumming like a fountain—ruined a perfectly good set of sheets, you know?”

“You’re disgusting,” she hisses, but she’s got the same memories in her head—that same night, so similar to this one (so similar to every night before).

The fighting, the fucking, the endless cycle of pushing each other’s button until one of you snaps.

“And what about you? You got here awfully quick for two in the morning,” she says. Her hand’s still on your thigh, less nails, more fingertips now, tracing patterns through the denim of your jeans. “Couldn’t bear the thought of me with someone else, could you? Lie to me—tell me that you weren’t waiting to get your hands on me again.”

Your denial dies before it even makes it past your lips—your own body turns traitor on you, provoked by her hand rising higher. There’s a smile as Wonyoung finds what she was looking for, the proof in the stretching of your jeans, the outline of your cock begging for more of her attention.

“At least this part of you is honest,” she muses, fingers dancing around your growing stiffness.

You grit your teeth, doing your best to keep the car steady, managing to grind out, “Please. It’s like you said, any decent pair of tits does it for me. Even your tiny ones get the job done.”

Her hand freezes on your thigh—you’ve hit a nerve, hit that dark part of her that’s so desperate for validation. “You think you can replace me? Find someone else to fill your sad, lonely nights?”

She’s closer now, her breath against your neck, her fingers drumming a beat right over where the head of your cock is. It’s a heady feeling, one that you hate and crave all at once.

“Was she even good?”

You know what she’s really asking: Was she better than me?

And you know the answer: How could anyone be?

But you don’t say that. You don’t need to. Instead, you reply, “It’s not a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition.”

Wonyoung’s hand relaxes, nails retreating from your thigh, leaving you flustered and fighting against the constraints of your own jeans. She settles back into her seat, having done her damage.

And for a moment, silence reigns inside your car, allowing you to actually focus on the road. Not that it really matters, you know the route to her apartment by heart—you could drive it blindfolded if need be. It’s just a welcome distraction to avoid dealing with the state she’s left you in.

The quiet survives a beat, two, and then Wonyoung’s squirming, shifting in the passenger seat.

And then she does it again.

And again.

You should keep your eyes ahead—you need to keep your eyes ahead.

You know exactly what you’re going to find if you look over at her.

That’s the problem with you and Wonyoung. You know each other too well. Your likes, your dislikes. What gets you off. What makes you mad.

What drives you fucking wild.

And yet, because you’re a sucker for punishment, you still risk a glance, and see Wonyoung, leaning back in her seat, her hand sliding up her own thigh, so casually drifting up her soft, bare skin, higher and higher.

The skirt rises, inch by torturous inch, and it’s those panties—the same set that was around her ankles the last time you had her bent over your couch, swearing she’d hate you forever. The same set that’s probably already soaked, just waiting for you to rip them off again.

You have to tell her to stop, to keep her hands to herself, to not do this to you, not now. Not while you’re trying to keep you both on the fucking road. But your mouth is dry, and all you can manage is a choked, “Wonyoung—”

Her fingers have slid past the hem of her skirt, now playing with the lace that’s the only barrier between her and open air. She’s biting into the plumpness of her bottom lip, staring at you, expecting your full attention, even now. There’s no subtlety with her, there never is, it’s one of the few things Wonyoung’s bad at.

You swallow hard, finding your voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Making myself comfortable,” she says, a little breathy now, as her fingers slip under the lace. “You got a problem with it?”

There’s the flash of skin, a gasp as her fingers find purchase between her folds. She’s so wet that you can hear it—the slickness of her arousal, the quiet sound of fabric sliding against her skin.

You’re straining, gripping the steering wheel so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in two. Her hand’s dipping lower, her finger sliding inside herself; not deep, not yet, just teasing. Enough to make you want to pull over, to grab her and throw her on the hood of your car, to show her exactly why you’re the only she thinks about when she’s lonely and desperate.

But you don’t, despite the way your body is begging for you to do something, anything, to ease the ache in your cock.

Because if you stop, it’s over. You know how this ends—or rather, you know how she’ll want it to end. She’ll want you to apologise for even being in the proximity of another woman, she’ll want you to beg for her forgiveness so that she might bestow upon you the privilege of touching her again.

If you’re lucky, she just might let you. But only if you play her games.

So you drive faster.

You push the speed limit, weaving through the mostly empty streets. You’re racing to a finish line, except all that’s waiting at the end of it is the taste of Wonyoung on your tongue, the feeling of her wrapped around you, the sweet victory of making her scream.

It’s hell—ignoring the sound of her pleasure, the wetness of her fingers working in and out of herself. There’s glimpses of her in the corner of your eye, she’s still watching you. She’s enjoying this, loving every second of it.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, oh-so-innocently, even though she doesn’t expect an answer—she just likes to hear her own voice. “Getting distracted? It’s a long, long way back to my place. No one can blame you if you need to give up and pull over.”

Wonyoung’s getting bolder now, pulling her skirt up to her waist, parting her legs for you, so you can see her hand moving faster, her hips rising to meet her own touch. So you can hear her, hear the fucking sound of each stroke of her fingers inside her, punctuated each time by a wet slap of her palm against her cunt, reverberating through the car, taunting you.

“You want it, don’t you?” She throws the question out so casually, like of course it’s only natural for her to be fingering herself in your car, of course she should be doing everything in her power to make you want to drive into a fucking wall. “I can tell, you’re so desperate to touch me. Definitely going to die if you don’t fuck me soon. Maybe even right here, right now?”

Your foot slips and the car swerves a little—it’s not much, but it’s enough to let her know that you’re losing focus, that she’s winning.

“Careful,” she laughs. “You wouldn’t want to crash before we get to the fun part.”

“You can’t wait until we get back to your place?” You finally ask, the question burning in your throat.

“No. You need to be reminded that you’re-ah-mine,” comes Wonyoung’s answer. “You’re going to fuck me anyway, so why not-mmph-why not save us both the trouble and get started on my own?”

“You don’t own me, Wonyoung.”

To that, Wonyoung raises a carefully sculpted eyebrow.

It’s not even worth a proper reply. Without a word, Wonyoung reclines back into her seat and snaps open the buttons of her shirt, nonchalantly revealing the swell of her breasts, the darkened peaks of her nipples.

No bra—they’re just there. Right there, in your face—those tiny, round, perky tits that you’ve had in your hands, that you’ve had between your teeth, that you’ve covered with your cum more times than you can count.

She’s not shy about it—never has been—arching her back, pushing her breasts out even further. It’s the confidence from knowing every other idol (hell, every other woman in the world) would sell their soul to have a body like hers. So why the fuck not flaunt it?

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true,” she says, reaching up to her chest. A palm finds her tits, pinching and rolling the sensitive nubs, making them nice and red and swollen for you.

She’s moving faster now, grinding down on her own hand, teeth sinking down into her bottom lip so deep you’re surprised she hasn’t drawn blood. Her breaths are getting shorter and shorter, she’s so close, she’s so fucking turned on, she’s so hot it hurts.

Her eyes remain fixed on you; seeing you struggle only makes her hotter, spurs her to circle her clit faster. She’s drinking you in—the tightness of your jaw, the way your eyes can’t decide whether to keep on the road or on her, the way you swallow, trying (and failing) to keep it together.

The worst part of it all is this wicked smile that’s settled on her lips; thoughts of wiping it off her face with your cock flash through your mind. She’s just so fucking smug about it, so sure of herself.

And maybe she should be.

“Admit it,” Wonyoung purrs. “Admit that you need me.”

“Why would I? You’re just a convenient hole to fill.” It’s not true, of course. You’ve never believed it; none of the hundred times you’ve said it to her before—and she’s never once been fooled.

Wonyoung is back in your ear, “You’re a bad liar.”

Her hand’s returned to your thigh, teasing closer and closer to where you really want it to be. You grunt a weak, “Wonyoung, if you think that’s going to work—”

But she doesn’t listen (she never does).

She reaches for the bulge in your pants, far too quick for you to stop her from wrapping her fingers around you, from taking a hold of you and squeezing.

“See?” She whispers, thick with satisfaction, feeling you throb in her grip. “You’re already about to burst. You can’t resist me. No one can.”

You’re not backing down. You’ve got your own pride to think of, after all. “Save it for your fan club.”

Wonyoung’s never been one to take no for an answer. Her hand moves with purpose, sliding over your zipper and giving it a forceful tug. The sound rings through the car, and it’s an out of body experience; it’s all in slow motion as she pulls out your hard, aching cock.

Fuck.

“Last chance to pull over.” Wonyoung takes a hold of you, fingers curling around your cock with a firm grip that leaves no room for doubt—she’s not letting go until she gets what she wants. “Who knows what will happen if you keep driving like this. Wouldn’t want to ruin these expensive leather seats with your cum, now would we?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“Your funeral,” she answers, her smile widening into a full-blown grin as she starts to move, stroking you, her hand gliding up and down your shaft with familiar ease. “Or ours, I guess.”

She’s not making it easy—there’s the slow, deliberate pumps, her thumb circling the head, her fingers teasing the sensitive skin. It’s so natural for her, so goddamn good.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Wonyoung’s question hangs in the air, joining the sound of her fist pumping your cock, the squish of her own fingers plunging in and out of her cunt. It’s a taunting metronome, the more you try to ignore her, the tighter she squeezes, the fastest she strokes you, the louder she moans in your ear. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

“I’ve done it before and I can do it again,” you grit out. “You’re going to be the one begging for it in the end. Like always.”

She huffs, and you’ve found your mark. “Oh, really? You think you’re so much better than me? You think you can just ignore me like that?”

“Better than you? Easily,” you answer. “You’re just a pretty face and a pair of legs that can’t keep itself shut.”

That makes her stroke you harder, tighter now, firmer, she’s trying to make this hurt. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

“What gives you the impression I even think about you at all?”

“Oh, I know it keeps you up at night—thinking about me, wondering if I’m thinking about you, wondering if any other slut can make you feel the way I do,” Wonyoung’s leaning on you, chin propped up on your shoulder, a devil in your ear. “You hate it, don’t you? You hate that it’s my cunt that you can’t get out of your head, that it’s my pretty lips that you need so badly around your cock.”

"Are you sure you’re not just projecting, Wony?” You ask, glancing down to her hand between her legs, her fingers deep in her folds, her cunt dripping with juices and making a small puddle beneath her. “Look at how wet you are at just the thought of having my cock back between your pretty lips again.”

“Fuck you.” Wonyoung’s panting, short harsh breaths. There’s no conviction in her voice, no denial to be found—this dance of spite and lust has her so fucking heated. All of it—the hate, the competition, the push and pull: it’s all just foreplay. “You’re nothing to me. Nothing but a back-up plan, a toy I play with when I’m bored.”

“Now who’s a bad liar.”

“Go fuck your—”

You don’t let her finish her insult. You’re tired of the back and forth, the games, the fucking power plays. You take your hand off the steering wheel, grabbing her by the hair, wrenching her head up to meet your eyes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re—” Wonyoung’s mistake is opening her mouth in protest—you push her face down onto your cock; not giving her a chance to argue, not giving her a chance to do anything but suck you dry like the skinny little slut she is.

She chokes, hacks a cough as you plunge your cock down her throat, her nose meeting your waist, and it nearly has you emptying into her mouth then and there.

Turns out, she’s right.

You do need this. Need to feel her perfect, pouty lips on you again, her teeth grazing against your skin, her tongue giving in and worshipping you like she’s never done with anyone else.

You keep a hand wrapped up in a fistful of her hair, but you don’t even need to hold her down—she doesn’t fight you, doesn’t even make the slightest noise of protest. No, she just takes it; never mind how much her eyes water, her mouth drools.

“Fuck,” you’re moaning before you can think better of it, and just like that, you’re conceding the smallest victory to her.

And it makes her smile around your cock.

You grunt in response; buck your hips, feed her your cock, make her gag (make her regret it).

You don’t ease up, because if there’s one thing you know about Wonyoung (one thing you know about fucking Wonyoung), it’s that the most insulting thing you can do to her is to take it easy on her.

Just fuck her face and behold the sight of Wonyoung taking your cock. God, her pretty lips wrapped around you, her throat bulging at your length, her teary eyes staring up at you with a mix of defiance and something that’s eerily close to adoration.

It almost makes you forget that you’re supposed to be driving, and it takes a honk from a car behind you and a smile and a curt nod from Wonyoung to remind you of the world rushing by outside.

You pull your eyes back to the road, both hands on the steering wheel to right the car back on track, barely escaping death by deepthroat.

Wonyoung laughs around your cock, a muffled sound that sends vibrations up your shaft. You try to ignore it, but she’s already seizing the opportunity, taking full advantage of the distraction to push down on her own accord, to take you deep—to start properly sucking.

You swerve again.

Her mouth is absolute heaven, pure and simple—she’s a fucking master at this. Your cock’s been in her mouth so many times before that she could probably write an instruction manual on exactly how to make you come unglued.

Too much all at once—you’re groaning now, unable to help it. She’s not even trying that hard; just taking your cock between her lips, sliding it all the way down her throat, a few gentle licks here, a swirl of her tongue there, but it’s more than enough. It’s what keeps you coming back. No one else feels like this—no one else has mapped out your cock like she has—every inch, every vein.

It’s the rhythm that she’s got down to a science: how fast to take you, how much pressure to apply, when to break from her pace to keep you teetering on the edge.

You can feel her eyes on you, scanning you for any sign of weakness—this is precisely where she wants to be. Like this was her decision—like everything leading up to this was part of some messed up strategy to provoke you, to make sure that your cock ended up in her mouth.

You don’t get a chance to dwell on that thought, not when Wonyoung’s teeth is at the base of your cock, her cheeks hollowed out, her tongue doing these little flicks that make your toes curl.

And there’s the question in her eyes: ’is that all you got?’.

Fuck it—risk taking your hand off the steering wheel, it belongs in her silky, dark hair. Make her eyes widen, make her take you deeper, kiss the back of her throat with the tip of your cock, force these divine fucking sounds.

The noises when she gags around you, when the spit is hacked up and drooled down your cock; she’s so sloppy, so filthy.

And she takes it, takes all of it.

Push her down before pulling her up by the hair, choke her, gag her, have her slobber all over your cock, make her feel you.

Wonyoung takes and takes and takes.

It’s fucked up how you’re treating her (how she’s letting you treat her); she’s an idol for fucks sake. But that’s the last concern you have on your mind—all you can focus on is how fucking good it feels to do this to her, to have her fighting for air around your cock, fighting to keep her eyes on you as you fill them with tears.

Wonyoung’s not giving up though—she’s timing it, timing you. When to relax her throat to take you deep. When to suction her lips. Where to dart her tongue to find that sensitive spot along your shaft.

She’s battling back, in her own way, just as determined as you are to not lose this war of wills. But in the end, you’re the one in the driver’s seat.

“Mmmph,” she’s the one moaning now, moaning around your cock. Shivering in your lap, body jerking and trembling; you can tell her fingers are still buried in her cunt, playing with herself.

She’s so fucking shameless, so fucking pretty, even like this—cheeks flushed, makeup smeared, eyes watering.

You want to kiss her, but that would mean separating her lips from your cock. You want to tell her how much you hate her, but the words won’t come out—they’re stuck in your throat, lodged between your grinding teeth.

“Wait—fuck.” You realise you’ve missed your turn, a split second too late. You jerk the steering wheel, needing both hands as you pull a sharp U-turn. The tires squeal as you try to correct your error, Wonyoung’s mouth around your dick scrambling your brains.

She pulls her lips off from your cock with a hollow ‘pop’. “I thought you could handle me?”

You try to reply—try to form a single coherent thought—but the chance slips by as Wonyoung’s back on the offense, back throating your cock so quickly that your vision swims.

A deep breath is what you need to keep it together. You’re barely thinking straight, holding onto the steering wheel for dear life, doing everything you can to keep yourself from giving up (giving in to Wonyoung’s mouth).

But it’s hard. So fucking hard.

You’ve blown far past any normal speed limit, trying to keep from spinning out with every one of her enthusiastic bobs—it’s by some divine benevolence the car hasn’t completely flipped over by now.

Wonyoung’s relentless, her mouth’s a fucking black hole, sucking you in, stealing every thought from your mind until there’s nothing rattling around your skull but the feel of her wet, warm lips on your cock, and the obscene sounds of her fingers sawing in and out of her pussy, fucking herself.

You’re almost there, and Wonyoung knows it. You can feel it in the suction of her lips, in how hard she’s working you over. It’s the sweetest kind of torture—knowing that she’s got you right where she wants you, that she’s got you on the edge and you can’t do anything about it.

You’re not going to last much longer.

Neither is she.

So you drive. You drive like your life depends on it, because maybe it does. Maybe the only thing keeping you sane is the promise of your eventual release, of filling her mouth with her cum, of pulling her onto your lap and fucking her cunt raw until she screams your name.

“Come on, you can do it,” she’s taunting you now, lathering your cock with just her tongue, dragging it along your length, licking you all the way from your balls to your head. She’s giggling as she steals the pre-cum from your tip, the fucking bitch—like she’s got all the power in the world.

You can see her apartment building in the distance, a beacon of light in the darkness.

You’re almost there.

You reach for the garage remote, mashing the button as you get closer and closer (you’re going to break it). The gate sluggishly opens, and you make a sharp turn to swerve into the dimly lit building, not bothering to slow down.

You can’t, not when Wonyoung’s balancing your cock on her tongue, her hand now squeezing at your base, stroking so fast, so erratic, determined to have you cum in her mouth as soon as fucking possible.

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” she asks, expectantly. “Cover me in it, give me what I deserve—show me how much you need me.”

The car’s screeching to the closest parking space, the sound echoing through the garage, as you skid between parallel white lines.

You’re cumming before the car’s even completely stopped.

It’s explosive; a white-hot heat searing through your veins, a roar in your ears as you shower Wonyoung’s perfect face with ropes of cum. She’s still jerking you off with her hand, her mouth hovering around the head of your cock, slurping up every drop she can get.

“All mine,” she chants, greedy for it. You pulse in her hand, your cum spurting over her cheekbones, across her nose, painting over that tiny dark freckle above the corner of her mouth.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink; she’s a statue, a goddess demanding her sacrifice. Her grip is ironclad, stroking you through your orgasm, not stopping until you’re drained, until your cock is twitching in her hand and there’s nothing left but a sticky mess plastered across her big, wide grin.

You feel the last of your orgasm pulse out of you, dripping down her dainty fingers. She licks her lips, smearing your cum across her cheek with her thumb before she sits up straight, basking in her victory.

“Fuck, Wonyoung,” you manage to get out, your chest heaving, your hand finally loosening its grip on the steering wheel.

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, not looking away from you, not breaking the eye contact that’s holding you in place. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

She’s not done yet—she still has to take her victory lap.

Wonyoung pulls herself off you, giving the tip of your cock a parting kiss as she sits back in her seat. She lifts her legs up—those endless stretches of porcelain skin—one after another, slow, dramatic, placing her bare feet on the dashboard.

Her skirt rides up, and with a stretch she drags her panties up her thighs, along her calves, and off her feet; the lace is soaked with her juices, leaving a trail of stickiness as she reveals herself to you.

The panties disappear somewhere into the backseat of your car, another spoil of war, and she spreads her legs wide, so wide, making sure you have a perfect view of her gleaming cunt. You can see her clit, peeking out from between her folds, and it’s all you can do to keep your hand from reaching over and taking over.

But this is her show, isn’t it? This is all for her, all about her getting off. And she’s fucking drowning in it—fingers in her cunt again almost immediately, so wet, so hot, so shameless in your car, so confident in her ability to get what she wants from you.

Her hips rock up and down, she’s fucking herself in front of you—for you. She’s daring you to look away, challenging you to deny how fucking hot she is.

You can’t.

“I’m going to cum now.” It’s a low hush, confident. “Watch me. Don’t move. Just fucking watch me.”

Wonyoung’s eyes are crystal clear, staring deep into you with the look of a girl who’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted in life. It’s that look she gets right before she shatters, and you know she’s there—right fucking there.

Her other hand reaches up, cradling your cheek, needing some connection, needing you to be with her. It’s not enough to just simply cum, she needs you to see it, to be a part of it in some twisted way.

“Just look at you,” Wonyoung says, like she’s not the one that’s covered in your cum, that’s not bucking her hips into her hand, working herself into a frenzy, like she’s trying to tear herself apart. “You can’t keep your eyes off me, can you?”

And she’s right—you hate her, you love her, you want to fuck her, you want to strangle her—it’s all a jumble of emotions in your head.

“That’s it—keep looking at me—don’t fucking take your eyes off me—fuck—yes—I’m going to—”

The only warning you get is a strangled gasp as Wonyoung cums, feeling it through her entire body, forcing her to keel over by just the force of it, making her fall into you.

Her hand on your cheek drags down to wrap around your neck, anchoring herself to you, pulling herself closer so she can smash her mouth against yours.

She’s kissing you, really kissing you, mouth open and hungry, all teeth and tongue, sloppy and wet. She’s marking her territory now, claiming you as she cums, and fuck, you can still taste yourself on her lips—salty and bitter.

Wonyoung’s hand is still working her clit, prolonging her bliss, and then she’s climbing on top of you, straddling you, grinding down on your half-hard cock as she rides out the last of her orgasm.

Her thighs are sticky with her juices, her skirt riding up so high that you can see the bare, plump skin of her ass, and you’re fighting the urge to just push it aside and plunge your cock inside her—

But she’s not giving you that satisfaction—not yet.

Her climax dies right on top of you—her hips rolling on her fingers, her body living and dying on the last embers of pleasure.

Finally, Wonyoung stops, collapsing against your chest, and you let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of her body pressing down on you. She’s a mess, a fucking disaster, and you hold her tight, your arms around her impossibly tiny waist, your cock coming back to life between her thighs.

It’s intimate, almost kind of romantic in a way that’s entirely fucked up, considering, well everything. You’re both a mess of cum and sweat, panting against each other, intertwined together in the driver’s seat of your car, the garage lights flickering overhead like some kind of sick mood lighting.

Wonyoung laughs.

“You’re all sticky.” She leans back, taking her finger and swiping it across your cheek, coming away with a glistening strand of your own cum, a rope that must have strayed from her face and onto yours.

There’s a glint in her eyes, a dirty little idea, and before you can even react, she’s leaning in again, her tongue tracing the line of your jaw, collecting the rogue drops of you.

She rolls her hips down and over you as she does it, stirring your cock back to attention, because apparently she’s not done with you yet.

“You’re a fucking bitch, Wonyoung,” you reply, but there’s no venom behind it. You’re just stating a fact: the sky is blue, the sun rises in the east, and Wonyoung is a bitch.

It’s just the way she is.

You can feel her smirking against your neck, you can picture the look on her face—like she’s already won. It’s infuriating, really, and you’ve got to even the score.

“What are you going to do, take me upstairs and punish me?”

“No,” you say, the word sticking in your throat like it’s made of honey. “Not upstairs.”

“Here?” Wonyoung looks around your car, doing a terrible job of feigning shock (as if she doesn’t know what you’re about to do to her). Yes, she’s a horrendous actress, but it would take an Oscar worthy performance to mask the heat radiating from her thighs, her cunt dripping down onto your lap. “What makes you think I’d let you?”

“What makes you think you have a choice?”

A press of a button has your seat sliding back, giving you just enough room to lift Wonyoung up, hoisting her above you like she’s a trophy you just won. Congratulations, here’s your Grand Prize—Wonyoung’s tight body, yours for the night (yours for every night).

She can’t do anything but be held by you, have her hips positioned, her cunt aligned with your cock—in your hands, at your mercy, under your control.

“Wait, wait—fuck—”

And then you slam into her.

“Daddy!”

That word. That filthy, devastating word is fucked out of her mouth, a gasping scream as you bury yourself deep into her.

You’d do anything to hear it again.

You don’t bother with gentleness or foreplay—this isn’t a romantic reunion after a long day apart. It’s your hands on her narrow hips; hers doing its best to brace herself on the roof of the car, the window, anywhere she can get a grip.

“Say it again,” you grunt, pulling her back down on you, so hard that she bounces back up, only to be met by another thrust.

“Fuck you,” she spits out, but she’s moaning with every thrust, tightening around you each time, her body betraying her words.

“Fuck you, who?” You’re laughing now, the sound thick and low in your throat as you watch her squirm in your grasp. “You’re going to need to be more specific than that, baby.”

“You know who,” she says, her eyes flying open, glaring at you as she catches her breath. “You always know who.”

“Then say it.”

“Fuck you, daddy.”

“That’s fucking right.”

Her legs are trembling around your waist as you drive into her, her nails digging into the threads of your shirt. She’s begging you for more—harder, faster, deeper—because that’s what she wants from you, that’s what she needs from you. It’s always been like this—no soft embraces, no tender kisses. Just more, more, more.

You wrap your hand around her throat, not enough to cut off her air, just enough to remind her who’s in charge, who’s giving it to her. You lean in, so close her eyes cross, and whisper in her ear, “This is all you’re good for, you know that?”

Wonyoung’s response is to tense her muscles, clench her cunt around you, buck her hips to slap her ass against your thighs. Another battleground in your endless fight for dominance. Fighting for control, trying to dictate the pace, to set the rhythm, to be the one doing the fucking and not the one getting fucked.

And fuck, she’s tight.

Her cunt, her waist, her body. God, it’s like she was built for this.

Designed to fit perfectly in the palm of your hand, to be filled by your cock, to have her skirt hiked up to her waist like a flag of surrender. You’ve got her right where you want her, where she’s always been, where she always will be.

“I fucking hate how good you are at this,” she gasps, the confession spilling from her lips.

You laugh, “I fucking hate you too.”

She’s kissing you again, fingers in your hair now, scraping the back of your scalp, as she rises and falls on your cock. Reflex has your hand tightening around her throat, feeling her pulse quicken beneath your thumb, making her choke out another ‘daddy’.

You’re fucking her like you hate her, like you’re trying to punish her for every sharp word and cold shoulder she’s ever thrown your way. And she’s taking it like she loves it, like she’s been waiting for this all night, all year, all her fucking life.

Wonyoung looks so fucking good, so perfect riding you like this, it’s starting to piss you off. Her hair’s framing her face in perfect waves, not a single strand out of place, even though you’ve had your hands all through it, your fingers tangled in it. Her makeup’s smudged—you can see the tracks of your cum on her cheek—but she wears it like a fucking badge of honour—and like all things, it looks good on her.

It’s like the universe took one look at her and said, ‘nah, she’s too pretty to let any of that shit ruin her.’

But you’ll try.

Keep going—keep fucking; each moan into your mouth, each push of her tongue against your own, each graze of her teeth against your skin—tells you you’re getting there.

Like you’re trying to fuck out all the spite and anger that’s been building up between you, like you can somehow purge it from your systems and just be left with the good parts.

(It’s never that simple.)

“Wonyoung—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“If I could just have your cock without the rest of you—without your stupid mouth, without that fucking look on your face—fuck yes, just like that—without all the bullshit and fighting—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

You don’t believe her, of course—you’re not just a cock to her, the same as she’s not just a pussy to you. But you let her have her fantasy, let her keep pretending she’s just using you for a good time.

“You’re such a bitch,” you murmur, making her chuckle in your ear, her teeth finding the sensitive skin of your lobe, biting down and making you hiss.

Wonyoung’s confession: “Only because it—gah—makes you fuck me harder.”

And it does—it makes you want to show her, prove yourself to her, make her feel it the next day and every day after. Fuck her until she’s nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess, until she’s begging for you to stop. Until she’s begging for you to never stop.

You’re both getting sloppier now, Wonyoung’s hips stuttering as you pound that spot deep inside her, the one that makes her see stars and scream your name, the car shaking with the force of your fucking.

It’s a badly-kept secret you’re keeping from the world outside—the car’s rocking, the lights inside are on, making no efforts to hide what the two of you are doing (doing to each other).

If anyone looks closely enough, if the security cameras in the garage get curious and zoom in, they’ll see your silhouettes; her body arching back, your hips thrusting up and into her.

They’ll see Jang Wonyoung, the princess of the industry, getting fucked in the front seat of a car like some common whore.

And she’s loving it. The danger, the thrill of being seen, the risk that anyone could walk by and hear her moan your name, her voice strained by your hand on her throat. It’s the fact that she’s letting you do this to her, that she’s letting you fuck her like this, even when she’s telling you she fucking hates it.

This moment—Wonyoung—right here, is what you live for.

You want to save it, to bottle it up and keep it with you forever. You want to remember how she feels, how she tastes, the fucking sounds she makes when she’s just about to cum. You want to replay this in your head every time you’re alone, every time you’re with someone else—because even though there might be someone else, they’ll never come fucking close to her.

And then you get an idea.

It’s a terrible idea, one that’ll surely end in disaster—like all the best ideas.

You hold down on Wonyoung’s hips, stopping her mid-thrust, and she’s whining, letting slip just how good you’re making her feel.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she snaps, taking short, sharp inhales, replenishing all the oxygen you’ve fucked out of her.

You ignore her, reaching for the dashboard camera that’s been silently facing outside, towards the wall of the garage. It’s been switched on the entire time, waiting to record the car crash inside—you and Wonyoung tearing each other apart.

Wonyoung’s scared. “Oh no, don’t you fucking—”

But she can’t stop you. You’re already spinning it around, pointing it directly at her cum-covered face, her sweat-drenched body.

“Smile for the camera, Wony.”

Her mouth opens, but she can’t muster the words. You’re fucking her again, the camera watching everything, capturing every moan, every slight quiver of her body. It’s a side of her nobody gets to see—the side you’re most familiar with.

Wonyoung at her most honest, when she’s undeniably yours.

Just her—getting used (using you)—and fuck, there’s nothing more worthy to be captured and preserved for all eternity.

Her eyes dart to the camera, then back to you, her mind racing a mile a minute. You can see the gears turning—she’s trying to figure out how to get out of this, how to win back some ground, but she’s lost.

You’ve got her, and she knows it.

You’re fucking her, and she has no choice but to follow—whether she likes it or not.

“Fine,” she says, the admission torn from her throat as you push back into her. “But if this leaks—if you ever show this to anyone, I’ll fucking kill you.”

You just laugh. “You really think so little of me? Like anyone would believe it anyway.”

And you mean it. You’re not that stupid. But the thought of having a permanent record of this moment, of Wonyoung, begging in high definition—it has you hooked.

You can’t help but add, “But we’ll always know it’s there, won’t we? Forever.”

Wonyoung narrows her brows at you, but she doesn’t protest anymore. Instead, she does the opposite. She starts to lean into it.

She tips her head back, arching her spine so that her tits are pushed up, giving the camera a picture-perfect shot of her body, her chest, the stiffness of her nipples—everything.

Jang Wonyoung—always the performer.

A free hand runs through her hair, flinging it back over her shoulder, and she starts to roll her whole body; fucking herself on you in a way that’s so deliberate, so fucking pornographic.

“God, I fucking hate this.” Wonyoung puts it on public record, eyes never leave yours as she performs for the camera—or for you, it’s hard to tell.

“What’s that, baby?” You tease. "You hate how good this feels?”

“I hate that it’s you,” she says, the words forced out between gasps. “I hate how fucking hot you are.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

You’ll never understand it. How someone you despise so much, with every fibre of your being, can fit so perfectly around you, feel so downright incredible on top of you. It’s a cruel joke that the universe decided to play on you both.

But you play along, let her ride you like it’s her fucking birthright, lock you in some petty staring contest, keep your mind filled with nothing but the tightness of her cunt.

You’re both panting now, sweat slicking your skin, making it easier for her to slide up and down on your cock. Her small tits bounce with every movement, and you can’t help but reach out to grab one, pinch it hard, making her wince, making her gasp.

“Fuck—you should quit whatever the fuck you’re doing,” she says, trying her best to form complete sentences through the pain, the bliss. “Work for me.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know.” Wonyoung looks down at you and you can see it on her face: the fucking slut is dead serious. “Manager, bodyguard, assistant. Whatever I can do to keep you close so you can fuck me like this whenever I want. If Yujin can have her drummer boy, it’s only fair that I get you.”

“Why the fuck would I want to spend all day waiting on you?”

She corrects you: “Spend all day inside of me.”

There’s your fantasy—mornings fucking Wonyoung in some hotel room, drinking all the juices from her pussy in the car on the way to work, having her suck your cock backstage at some concert, making her scream your name every night before going to sleep.

And then waking up and doing it all again.

There’s no hiding the smirk on your face. “Go fuck yourself, Wonyoung.”

Wonyoung mirrors your grin, that wild, cock-drunk look in her eyes. “Why would I do that when I have you?”

“No.” You’re pulling her close, holding her body tight to you, making her feel it. “You’re mine.”

That word again—'daddy’ on her lips, turning into a desperate cry as her thighs tense on either side of you, her hands locking behind your neck. She’s holding on tight, because you’re not giving her a choice, you’re not giving her anything but what she’s begging for.

You watch her face in the reflection of the car window—the way her mouth hangs open, the way her eyes flutter shut and then open again, searching for something, anything to keep her grounded.

"Fuck me like I’m yours,” Wonyoung pleads. “You own me? Then fucking treat me like you do. Treat me like I’m your fucking whore, daddy.”

It’s too much, all of it. Wonyoung: her face—those lips, her body—those fucking legs, her voice—the way she says your name, how she calls you daddy, like it’s a fucking curse. You’re so close to the edge now, so close to cumming again, cumming inside her. You can feel the beginnings of it, the tension coiling in your balls, the white creeping into your vision.

But she’s still talking—and so are you, you realise.

One of you cries out—holy shit—answered with a—so fucking good—followed by an exchange of—fuck yous—and—I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

It keeps going, this fucking, this using, this hating—whatever this is.

“I fucking hate you—”

“Hate you too—”

“Hate how good your cunt feels—”

“Hate how big your cock is—”

“Hate how perfect you are—”

“Hate how much I want your fucking cum—”

“Fucking slut—"

“Daddy—”

“I’m going to—"

"Please!"

And that’s it.

It’s over—your cock pulsing deep inside her, Wonyoung’s cunt clamping down around you, and you’re cumming—together—tightening and writhing and calling each other every name under the sun, except maybe the one that actually matters.

Wonyoung’s head falls back, losing control of her own body, the camera catching every glorious moment as she cums, her orgasm ripping through her in a scream that you feel in every inch of your body.

You kiss her—her tits, her neck, her jaw, her lips—claiming her, making sure she feels every drop of you. You hate her, you love her, you hate that you love her, you love that she needs you, you hate that you need her.

And all the while the camera keeps rolling, capturing your sweaty, heaving chests; capturing you filling her, spilling out of her, giving her the cum she so desperately pleaded for. It’s so much more intimate than any kiss, any love confession, any of that romantic shit she sings about.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

It’s every twitch, every shiver, every little pulse of your release flooding her. How she tenses and clenches around you, soaks you with her wetness, drowns you in her tight, drenched heat.

And she keeps calling you it—whispering it—‘daddy’—over and over again, even as she’s coming down from the high, even as she’s gasping for air, even as she’s forcing her tongue into your mouth.

Wonyoung slumps against you, your cum dripping out of her and down your cock, staining the leather of your car seats. You can feel the stickiness of it, the mess you’ve made together. It makes you want to do it all over again.

To make her say it again, to make her scream it again.

“You’re so fucking mine,” you murmur against her neck, kissing her collarbone, tasting the salt of her sweat.

Wonyoung just nods, too exhausted to argue, too satisfied to care. Her hand finds yours, weaves your fingers together, and you hold onto her, tight. It’s sickeningly sweet, and yet, despite your best efforts, the insult, the quip to break the spell doesn’t come.

Because in the end, you don’t want to kill the moment—not when it’s so perfect.

You don’t want to ruin it with talk of the real world, with the harshness of the light that’ll be waiting outside the car door.

You stay there, parked in the garage of her apartment building, the headlights dimming down to black. The air is thick with the smell of sex and sweat, the taste of it lingering on your tongues. It’s a bubble you’re both loath to burst—because once it does, once it pops, you’re just Wonyoung and some guy she fucking hates again.

“Thank you, daddy.” Wonyoung’s breathing slows, her grip on you loosens. She’s drifting off, the stress of the night and the alcohol finally claiming her.

You don’t know how long you sit there, the two of you tangled together. It’s quiet except for the occasional hum from her, a cute little sound that she’s probably unaware she makes. It’s soothing, almost sweet.

But reality has a way of crashing in, doesn’t it?

You know you can’t stay here forever. You know you’ve got to get her upstairs before someone sees, before the cameras (the dangerous ones, the ones you don’t own) spot you. Before the rest of the world catches up.

You ease her off your cock, she whines, her eyes struggling open. “Take me home,” she mumbles, still not fully coherent.

“Already am, baby,” you reply, gently untangling her body from yours.

With a bit of effort, you manage to get her into an almost presentable state—straightening her skirt, buttoning her shirt, dabbing the cum that’s pooled between her thighs. She watches you as you do it, through a hazy gaze, still recovering from being fucked into oblivion.

It’s an act. Partly at least. A way to save face—pretend that it’s only the exhaustion, that she doesn’t really need you, doesn’t really want to be taken care of like this. Doesn’t want to nuzzle her head into your shoulder, or hug you tight, or have you kiss her on the forehead and tell her that you’ve got her.

Tomorrow she’ll yell at you for it, probably call you an overbearing asshole for treating her like a delicate flower. Make fun of you for going soft, for totally falling under her spell.

(And sometime even later, in a moment when she’s all quiet and feeling vulnerable, right after you’ve fucked each other and hated each other and ended up holding each other for the millionth time, Wonyoung will say:

“You’re the only one who can keep up with me.”

You’ll know what she means right away; you’ll kiss her again and you’ll answer:

“I know.”)

Because despite the fact that when she wanted to be (and it was often), Jang Wonyoung could be a real fucking bitch, you’re also kind of in love with her.

And, if you were to ask her, she’d probably the same about you.

#kpop smut #wonyoung smut #ive smut #male reader

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scribefindegil · 1 year ago

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I love first-person because it’s about what the narrator chooses to tell. What do they focus on? What do they leave out? What can you learn from reading between the lines? Are they lying to you? Are they lying to themself? It’s great for unreliable narrators and for epistolary storytelling! It’s intimate but there’s still a distance because you aren’t really seeing the narrator’s thoughts--you’re just seeing the story that they’ve constructed.

I love second-person because it’s a conversation. Does “you” mean a broad, indefinite “you”? Does “you” really mean “I” but with plausible deniability? Does “you” mean one specific person? Can they hear the narrator? Do they know the narrator? What is the relationship here? Who’s talking? Who’s listening?

I love third-person limited because it’s focused and intimate. What does the world look like from inside this character’s head? What are they seeing? What are they feeling? It doesn’t grant them the privacy that first-person does; the narrative isn’t something they’ve chosen, it’s invisible and inescapable. As a reader you’re not watching so much as astral projecting.

(I love singular point of view because of how much it leans into that limitation. You’re not getting the whole story; you’re not seeing anything unless this character sees it. How do you embrace that? What do you do with the gaps around the edges? How does that define--or warp--the events that they’re experiencing?

I love multiple points of view because of how it broadens your understanding of the story and the world. If two point-of-view characters react in opposite ways to the same thing, what does that tell you about them? About the world? How does it feel to spend time inside a character’s head and then see them from someone’s else’s point of view? How do all of these viewpoints work together?)

I love third-person omniscient because the narrative is a character. It’s great for stories that know they’re stories! It allows for a camaraderie between the narrator and the reader! It allows for wider and more cinematic descriptions because you’re not limited to what a specific person can see! It lets you look at the characters from outside while still giving you the option to delve into their heads because you have full control over what you’re focusing on!

And I love authors who can combine viewpoints in ways you wouldn’t think would work but manage to pull it off! Stories with multiple point-of-view characters where one is first-person and the others are third! Stories that combine first- and second-person! Stories where the omniscient narrator suddenly refers to themself in the first person! Stories where you realize halfway through that you were wrong about who was narrating it!

Isn’t it fantastic that there are so many different ways to tell stories!!!!

#WRITING #this is not eloquent but i just!!! think narrative voice is so cool!!#i think EVERY narrative voice is so cool!!#all of these also have specific negatives that are more associated with them of course #but. the positives tho.

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kettlefire · 3 months ago

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Not so Different. (DcxDp)

The stunned silence was louder than the rest of the gala had been. Every single pair of eyes were wide with shock, fear, and even concern. The last sound to have left the patrons was scattered gasps at the reveal.

It was meant to be simple. A new up and coming technological company had put all their savings into this. A huge gala to show of the reason the world needed their technology. Needed their help.

No one believed it. Truly, who could have? A large group of men and women dressed purely in white suits, spouting about the threats of ghosts. It was insane and impossible.

Many of the big names that attended today only came for publicity. The notoriety that came with having been there when this company crashed and burned in one night.

It's the only reason Bruce Wayne was even among the crowd. Accompanied by Oliver Queen and his own son, Dick Grayson. As much as Bruce hadn't wanted to be here, he knew his reputation was important to keep up.

That was until two agents stepped out onto a stage they had at the back of the large room. A thick curtain had kept the sight behind it completely hidden from the patrons. Until the moment was right. That was when the thick curtain had suddenly been ripped back, as a third man took a microphone and began to explain.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Especially for the three secret vigilantes in the crowd. Not a single person could tear their gaze away from the cage that now stood in full view.

It wasn't the cage that had everyone enraptured. No, it was the glowing creature curled up in the center of it. No, not a creature. It was a boy. Still baby faced and youthful. Too young to be in a cage.

A high-tech muzzle was securely wrapped tightly against the boy's mouth. His knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. His other hand pressed tight against the muzzle, seeming to almost be trying to keep it in place.

The boy's toxic green eyes were wide, filled with a clear intensity of pain and terror. There were old tear stains on his cheeks, quickly being replenished with fresh tears. His messy, bright white hair fell into his face. The boy looked both like he wanted to look away, but also like he couldn't. Like he couldn't risk not seeing the threat coming.

It didn't take a genius to see the boy was in pain. Human or not, this went beyond inhumane treat. Making minds racing with thoughts of what else these people had done to the poor boy.

Bruce knew in this moment that this company had just caught the attention of Batman. Based on the look in Oliver's eyes, they also just collected the wrath of the Justice League as well. Bruce hadn't even needed to look at Dick to know he was on the same page.

It went unnoticed by any other patrons. All the focus was glued on the stage, on the lecture and caged boy. No one noticed when Bruce Wayne slipped his phone of his pocket. When he hit a singular speed dial as he turned away from the show. He brought his phone to his ear as he silently signaled his trusted allies to keep an eye on it.

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yeahxsurexokay13 · 7 months ago

Text

ideal weekend, lando norris

summary: while fans stress about the fact that, following their breakup, the actress won't be there to witness the driver's first ever f1 win, y/n gets asked about her ideal weekend off in an interview and accidentally manifests it [actress!reader]

warnings: i think only very bad editing (i tried) and me bringing up yet another footballer i feel affection for for literally no reason

fc: madelyn cline

started this as something completely different from what it ended up being but i think i like it. i'd love it if you let me know what you think tho (((:

y/n.y/l

📍miami

Liked by rudeth and 1.059.326 others

y/n.y/l yet another victim of a @/maxverstappen1 win. had so much fun but i think i'll just stick to acting 🙃🙃🫠 thank you @/redbullracing for having me!!! <333

view all 2.071 comments

username at a red bull event? what happened to once a mclaren girl always a mclaren girl????

username this event was basically work for her ?? you ppl need to stop taking everything so personally omg

username professional SUPER FAST driver, part time actress ❤️ by author

username you're in miami the same week of the miami gp. coincidence? i think not 😌😌

username GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

redbullracing Glad you had fun Y/n! Maybe we should start considering you for a guest appearance in our garage 😉

mclaren Thanks for the offer, Red Bull! But we've already got dibs on her 😉

username UM I HOPE THIS ISN'T A JOKE ??

username don't play with me like this admin!!

mclaren Don't worry. We won't hold this against you 🧡

y/n.y/l ily guys 🧡🧡🧡

username Ok cool now go finish season 4

username Why are u in Miami shouldn’t u be filming obx 4 😪

y/n.y/l side quest

username not the Y/n x F1 content I was hoping for but at this point I'll take what I can get

maxverstappen1 Next time I'll give you a head start. Enjoyed having you with us, Y/n 🫶

y/n.y/l there will definitely not be a next time but thanks tho!!!👍🏼 always a pleasure seeing you ❤️

username pretty 🩷

username Why is Max literally this🧍🏼‍♂️❤️ by author

landonorris Um what's this?

y/n.y/l 😶 not what it looks like

username seeing you two banter like this makes my heart ache 💔

username i'm never moving on from y/nlando sigh

username OBX S4 WHEN QUEEN

29 April 2024

mclaren added to their story

y/n.y/l

Liked by maxfewtrell and 1.890.345 others

y/n.y/l me and FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER lando norris

view all 3.830 comments

username JUST WHEN I THOUGHT TODAY COULDN'T GET ANY BETTER OMFG

username formula 1 race winner lando norris has a nice ring to it 😉 ❤️ by author

username What a race, and what a win for Lando!!!

username IM LOSING IT YALL I JUST CHECKED OUT OF CURIOSITY AND BRIGHTON ALSO WON TODAY Y/N MANIFESTED HER IDEAL SUNDAY

username minus the relaxing part lol i know for a fact bestie was stressing in that garage

carlossainz55 It's great to see you back at a race! Missed having you around! ❤️

y/n.y/l thank you carlitos ❤️ wish i could've got to see you up there with lando

charles_leclerc ouch ? 🫤

y/n.y/l noooo, i didn't mean you!!! x

maxverstappen1 ouch?

y/n.y/l i did mean you. sorry /:

username are we back in 2022 and i didn't realise?????? not complaining at all tho

mclaren You and FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER Lando Norris look amazing! 🧡 ❤️ by author

username admin definitely ships

username children of divorce rise !!!!!!! ❤️ by author

username u think u're so funny liking this @.y/n.y/n but we're actually hurting we want our mum back!!!

username seeing you celebrate with lando was everything 🥹🥹🥹

username when i tell you i sCREAMED !!!!!!

username Everything in the world has been healed due to this post

oscarpiastri Awesome that you could come watch. Missed you ❤️

y/n.y/l missed you more pastry boy ❤️❤️

username we were robbed from this friendship !!!😪

username can't believe how emotional I am seeing you two together at his big win

francisca.cgomes ❤️❤️❤️ ❤️ by author

username just realised i am not as over y/nlando as i thought i was. in fact i am not over y/nlando at all.

username well seeing you with FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER Lando Norris just hit me right in the feels💔

landonorris Thanks for being there to share the moment with us ❤️ ❤️ by author

landonorris Also I think after this you might now have to come to every race ever

y/n.y/l clearing my schedule as we speak 🫡

username i am so ready to be delusional

05 May 2024

#actress!reader #social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris social media au #lando norris imagine #instagram au #ln4 smau #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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hedgehog-moss · 5 months ago

Text

I was talking with a friend the other day about how I was fascinated with American school life when I was a teen because it seemed so different from how things are in my country (I knew about US high schools thanks to Hollywood, an accurate and trustworthy source) and we talked about which aspects of US schools felt foreign or strange to us and one thing I brought up was, how American teens only seemed to have like 15min for lunch (I had 1h30 here in France), as evidenced by the cafeteria scenes (no one seemed to eat a proper four-course meal? I definitely never saw a separate cheese course), and I was like, I envied a lot of stuff about US schools but not this

... and I went looking in my old diaries to see if I ever wrote about this, and you know what? I was wrong. I did envy their school lunches which, like almost everything about US schools, felt intriguing and different and cool. The reason middle school-me thought American school lunches were superior to French ones is because, since American teens in TV shows only seemed to get like 4 chicken nuggets and a milk carton for lunch, their lunch tray was very light and they could hold it with one hand under it, the other hand in their pocket or holding their bag strap on their shoulder all casual-like. Sometimes there was no tray, even!

I envied these American teenagers for their lunchtime nonchalance. I would have liked to handle lunch in this cool-cat way but my French lunch tray being loaded with 4 different heavy and breakable plates, I had to hold it carefully with both hands. In my view this was unfair as the hindrance of governmental nutrition guidelines made French students look like uptight nerds, unable to strut around the cafeteria with one hand in our pocket like we didn’t care. Same for the absence of lockers in our schools, we had to carry all our books on our back all day like studious turtles whilst the beautiful 25 year old American teens on my television casually leant against their lockers chatting with friends then strolled around school with just a couple of books tucked under their arm like they were in Dead Poets Society. Thank god there was an ocean between us, imagine a French kid entering a US school cafeteria carrying 3 binders and 5 textbooks in their big rucksack and holding their tray with two hands like a complete loser

Note that these comparisons are quite worthless since I don't know what US school life / food is like in the real world (I imagine it varies a lot!)—I just find it funny to re-read old diaries and discover what was important to kid-me. Discussing these little cultural differences gleaned from US TV series, adult!me is like "yeah I remember being intrigued & envious about a lot of things! Not their school lunches though, they didn't look balanced and nutritious"—meanwhile middle school-me, focused on what mattered, was like, imagine what we could be... imagine being able to hold your lunch tray with 1 hand instead of 2 thus accessing a realm of coolness unfathomable to us in our backward country

#i'm glad i used to spend hours writing diaries... as a kid i never thought i'd enjoy re-reading them later i thought it'd be too mortifying #but no. i'm glad i wrote down for posterity the 4-page-long detailed account of how i embarrassed myself in front of my crush in 2005 #crucial historical document. to me

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fangirl-dot-com · 8 months ago

Text

Drive To Survive

key:

indented italics - flashbacks, display other than interview, screen changes

February 14, 2025

The screen is dark as the newest episode of Drive To Survive plays.

The title read “The Rookie.” It was finally time for the episode that everyone had been waiting for since the 2024 season ended.

The opening scene starts with multiple flashes of cameras. If people watched the 2023 season, they would know exactly what circuit it was. The Elvis impersonators would give it away as well.

Standing in a circle was the current world champion, two Ferrari drivers, and the Papaya duo. They smiled forced smirks for the cameras. Yet, they dropped them once they realized the cameras were not pointing to them. The Netflix camera filmed them all turning to face the front. Most of the drivers had confused looks.

“I didn’t know Checo was a Cars fan,” the microphone picked up the words from the red clad Spaniard.

Max smirked, the camera zooming in on the Dutchman.

“He’s not.”

The camera angle changes to the back of a young woman, blond hair bouncing with every step. A red scarf flowed behind her, white body suit sparkling under the flashes of all the cameras.

The screen flashed the title before a producer chair was put in a spotlight. The camera angle switched to a back view as a driver walked around and sat in the chair. Their face is completely nonvisible from the camera angle, but people know who it is.

The lights dim before brightening, and the camera angle is back on the chair with the driver. Blond hair reflects the lighting, as well as a nice smile. The episode clapper is in her hands.

“Please state your name and team for the camera.”

The woman in the chair took a breath.

“My name is Y/n L/n and I drive for the Italian team, Scuderia Ferrari.”

She clapped the black and white box. A loud beep sounded in the studio as the camera crew started to laugh. The girl in the chair started giggling as well, before acting serious again.

“Yeah, that was a lie. I drive for the best, the Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 team. Red doesn’t look the best on me. I prefer navy.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh once more.

The camera quickly cuts to black and then fades into a clip, that looks similar to a home video. A young girl is smiling for the camera, tiniest helmet in her hand.

“How old were you when you started karting?” a voice sounded over the video.

The blond cocked her head in thought. She smiled at the nostalgia that was running through her mind.

“I was five.”

The same little girl was now in a kart, doing donuts on a driveway.

“My parents had gotten me a kart as a present. They had been talking about starting me as soon as possible. I mean, I had toy cars before for practice. My first one was a bright pink Barbie car and I got that when I was 3.”

The clip changes to a different scene. This time, it was of a karting circuit. Multiple kids were aiming for the first place spot, but a singular pink kart was going around the outside, taking it from them.

“I remember my first time winning. It was 2008, a few months after I got my kart. All the boys there looked at me weird when I showed up with my hot pink helmet.”

“Where you scared?” the interviewer leaned in, awaiting the answer.

“Of the boys? Not one bit. They should have been more scared of me.”

It was now a black screen, but multiple voices shouted over it.

“Y/n L/n wins her first feature karting race.

“That is another win for the female karter!

“Y/n L/n wins the European Division for karting in 2010!

“L/n takes the 2012 Italian Karting Division Championship!”

“Karting will always be a part of me.”

“Who kept you going?”

The girl gave a sad smile to the camera as she looked down at her hands. She knew she had given them permission to talk about the subject. She just didn’t know that they’d go right off the bat.

“My godfather, Lorenzo.”

The screen changed to a clip of the small girl running to a taller man. The man was knelt down in the grass, arms open wide to catch the running girl. A gentle smile was on his face as he looked at the trophy in the child’s arms: almost too big for her to carry on her own.

“I believe that without him, I wouldn’t be in this chair. I owe it all to him.”

The scene changes once again, to multiple clips of an F4 and F3 car crossing the finish line.

“Y/n L/n wins her first F4 race of the season!

“Is she going to take home the championship today? Yes she does! Y/n L/n is the 2018 Formula 4 Champion!

“It is a new year and we are seeing a lot of new rookies in Formula 3. Hold on, is that Y/n L/n? Ah it is! So glad to see the girl here today especially after last year!

One of the regulars on the show, Will Buxton, was now in the seat.

“What are your thoughts on L/n’s rise in Formula 3?”

Will leaned in, getting focused.

“You have to have such a good foundation in your family and close friends, to be supported, to be good like that. Because without good support, a driver cannot be a good driver.”

“L/n is across the line to take home her first F3 race win. We were seeing her looking a bit down earlier, so I hope this brings her spirits up because she is making history today.”

“So, I was disowned right before that race that I won in F3.” The blond shrugged. “I really never had any good support other than like three people. At the time, two of them were just staff too.”

She giggled at the revelation, knowing what Buxton had said beforehand.

“Another win for L/n, making her the 2019 Formula 3 champion. Ladies and gentlemen, you do not want to miss watching this racer ever again.”

Somber music now plays in the background.

“How nervous were you when you made the jump from the Formula 3 division to Formula 2.”

The girl gave a nervous scoff. “I was terrified.”

Clips of pictures filled the screen.

“I had just lost the only person in the world who I know still cared for me.”

“Heir to the Alessandrino Fortune Has Died”

“Former Italian Karting Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Has Passed Away”

“Lorenzo Alessandrino, 2001 Formula 2 Champion, Is Dead”

“Y/n L/n Makes Motor Sport History as the First Woman To Start in Formula 2”

“L/n Takes the Formula 2 Feature Race”

“Y/n L/n, History Maker: First Female To Win a Formula 2 Race”

The headlines fade into a video of the podium. A 25-year-old Max Verstappen is visible, holding the 1st place trophy. He is seen watching the 17-year-old Y/n L/n shed some tears during her national anthem, while pointing to the sky when it finished. He gingerly stepped out and handed it to her when cued. She graciously took it from his hands and offered him a wide smile. Max stepped back, watching the young girl openly cry in front of thousands. On the inside, he wished he had that strength.

“I could tell something was off that day.”

A new driver was in the chair. Male, blond, and in the same team uniform as the female was. Anybody who’s anybody knew exactly who that was.

He sucked in a breath. “Obviously, I didn’t know her or what she had been through at the time. Now knowing, I wish I had given her a hug.”

Max let out a chuckle as he reminisced on that day.

The screen flashed and the woman was back in the chair.

“I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was.” Her hands waved around. “Max Verstappen, probably one of the greatest drivers to grace the grid. No one just skips most of F3 and all of F2. You have to be great. And that was Max.”

“Was he your favorite driver on the grid at that time?”

She let out a snort. “Oh gosh no.”

Everyone in the studio laughed.

The scene changed to you sitting next to Charles at one of the debriefs in Las Vegas. You had no clue why they put you there, because last you knew, you weren’t driving. However, they had said something about wanting the pole sitter and you (who had done the fastest lap in FP1) to talk for a bit.

Your cheeks were a bit heated as you were truly sitting next to your hero. Charles could only smirk at your very shy nature next to him. He watched you rattle off about some part of the car and the balance.

The Monegasque cut in.

“See, this is why she is perfect to be Max’s teammate. They could talk all day.”

Everyone around them laughed, along with you who gave some quiet giggles. You rolled your eyes.

“Let’s not talk about the fact that you have your own ‘Leclerifying’ hmmm?”

The girl smirked at the camera. “There was a certain McLaren driver that always tried to get the attention of a select Spaniard. If Lando was obsessed with Carlos. I was obsessed with the other Ferrari driver. I tried to get his attention on Twitter, er, well now X a couple of times. It was still Twitter when I was using it.”

“Of course I noticed her tweets.”

A new driver was now in the seat once again. This time, he wore the iconic Rosso Corsa team polo.

Charles smiled as he looked down at the multiple rings on his finger. His hand came up to his neck to fidget with a certain necklace. His smile grew as he thought on the memories.

“I thought it was sweet. A young driver was trying to keep up with the big leagues. I’m pretty sure I responded a couple of times. And Sebastian had put in a good word for her.”

“Sebastian?”

Charles’s eyes widened as he smirked.

“Vettel. He’s known her for longer than anyone here has.”

The scene changed again.

The girl was back as she clapped her hands.

“Charles made my day whenever he responded. To me it was probably like if Harry Styles responded to a fangirl’s tweet or Instagram. I always hoped that I’d make it to Formula 1 and could maybe drive beside him.”

“We were told that you know retired driver Sebastian Vettel.”

The blond smirked, not nervous but confident.

“Yeah, I know him. He was really good friends with my godfather.”

She leans forwards and fixes her shorts.

“It’s kind of how Max was close to the Schumacher family. Lorenzo worked with Seb multiple times in the very early 2000’s when Seb was still in karting. I want to say probably even before I was born as well. He was a little bit older than Seb, more like a mentor. I was able to catch up with Sebastian around 2020 and I got to meet a few more people.”

“People such as?” they prodded.

“Kimi, Nico, Mark. I’m pretty sure I met Lewis like once though when I was pretty young. Like probably around 2015. I got to watch a couple of Formula 1 races with them in 2020.”

The camera cuts to a man wearing the Mercedes logo on his polo. His braids are kept nicely as he smiles at the camera. They hand him a picture of you and him in 2015. His eyes are wide as he keeps looking at the photo and then to the camera.

“This was her?” Lewis questioned, letting out a small laugh. His eyes squint as he tries to get a closer look in the dark room.

The scene changes once again, the female driver back in the seat.

“Were you nervous that you might not have made it? To Formula 1 after what happened in 2020?”

The blond looked down at her hands.

“There were a few years where I was convinced that I wouldn’t.”

The screen fades to more headlines.

“Y/n L/n enters a second year of Formula 2 with PREMA”

“The Future for F2’s Only Female Driver is Uncertain”

“L/n Is Out of the Last F2 Race of the Season”

“PREMA Drops L/n for Her F2 Final Season?”

A clip of a meeting of some sorts flashed on the screen. You were looking quite down as you picked at the end of a table as someone read off a paper. You didn’t even want to pay attention as they were nailing the final nail into the coffin.

“Prema Racing has decided to let go of driver number 89, Y/n L/n. After the 2022 season, she will no longer race for or have any affiliations with Prema and will be replaced by Ollie Bearman.”

You spoke up. “But I have a contract until the end of 2023.”

The representative glared at you, before looking back at the page and kept reading. “Since driver 89 has underperformed in the past 2 years, Prema has decided to break contract. Compensation will be sent at a later time.”

Vito had silently grasped your shoulder to offer you some comfort, but the hurt had already been done. You were going into a season for the first time since F4, you didn’t have a secured future in the sport.

Ollie was sitting on the other side, watching you sadly as they basically read your death sentence. The camera zoomed in on you playing with a pen. If one were to look closely, they could see tears streaming down your cheeks.

Will was back in the seat.

“A driver without a contract or team cannot drive.”

The scene changes back to the driver.

“I mean. I had other options. On the side I was talking to Sebastian and even Nico. I was trying to keep my eyes open for something, anything. Except, it turned out that I didn’t need to.”

More headlines flashed.

“DAMS To Sign Both Leclerc and L/n for 2023”

“Y/n L/n Wins First Two Races of the 2023 Formula 2 Season”

“L/n Wins Her Third Race with Teammate Arthur Leclerc Behind Her”

“Y/n L/n Makes History Once Again: First Female To Win Formula 2 Championship”

“Y/n L/n: Youngest Driver To Win F2 Championship”

The girl is back in the chair, the spotlight on her.

“I didn’t know that I’d get the championship my final year. I was skeptical. I really thought that I wouldn’t be able to, since it was my final year, I had been dropped, and I had a new teammate. But I had a really good teammate and a better team. They really put everything into me being the best driver.”

“What did you think would happen after everything was over? You had won the championship with 1 race to spare.”

The girl swallowed before speaking. “Obviously, I thought I didn’t have many options. At the time, it seemed as though every door was closed. I kept talking to my manager about it, and every time he said he would come back empty handed. I even talked to him that morning, and he just had a sad smile on his face.” She paused. “I knew that even though I could be the champion, I had nowhere to go after that.”

The person in the chair changed.

“So, that was all a lie,” Vito spoke to the camera, a smile on his face.

The scene had changed. Vito Accardi, Y/n L/n’s manager, was seated in a chair. It looked like he was stressing over his laptop. Stella, L/n’s race engineer at the time of 2023, was seated across from him. He was silently tapping a pen on the table as he looked over the words on the screen.

“Too many junk emails?” she teased, settling into her chair.

The male shook his head.

The screen showed multiple contracts up at once, lines upon lines were highlighted. The headers at the top of each contract showed very recognizable logos.

He smirked as he looked directly at the camera. “I couldn’t tell her anything until I knew that there was something for certain.”

“How many teams wanted her?”

“All of them.”

The scene changed to a past driver’s get-together: one that no one had seen before. The group consisted of Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, Daniel Ricciardo. An odd group, but they were just waiting around (or hiding on a Wednesday).

Charles was looking down at his phone, while Max was watching him closely. The Monegasque’s fingers were typing at a lightning speed.

Lando was the one to point it out.

“What’s got you in a tizzy?” the Briton asked, pulling Charles out of whatever fog he was in. He quickly turned his phone off.

“Ferrari is wanting to sign someone else, but wouldn’t be able to do so until 2025. Except her manager insists on a seat for 2024.”

Lewis had his interest piqued. “It is Y/n L/n?”

“Yeah. My brother has put in great words for her, along with Sebastian. Pierre also says that Alpine is thinking of options too. She’s,” he huffed, “very good. Almost a little too good.”

The other Mercedes driver took a sip of his drink. “Toto was just talking to me about that, but he said the same thing. There aren’t any seats available until 2025. But he wants her.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “So we’ve all gotten the talk about how all the team principals want to sign her. Even McLaren is speaking about how to get her a seat somewhere. Testing driver or something like that.”

The older Spaniard spoke up. “It would be foolish not to. She has generational talent. Stroll is looking at her as well.”

“So are we. Except there aren’t any seats,” an Aussie added.

Max was quietly reading almost every article he could get his hands on about her. In the back of his mind, he knew that Checo was going to retire after this year (especially after what happened at Mexico). He quickly sent one to Christian, only getting a thumbs up.

Daniel bumped Max. “You’ve been quiet over there. What are your thoughts on the potential rookie?”

The Dutchman looked up. “What rookie?”

The scene changed back to the Italian man.

“I’ve been her manager for years. I knew exactly what she needed at that moment. Sure, I could have told her, but I knew she wanted to race in 2024 and not wait. I’m not her manager for nothing.”

“How did you get in touch with Red Bull’s Christian Horner.”

The man adjusted in the chair. “Well, even though she wasn’t on their junior team, the actual brand Red Bull was one of her sponsors in karting.”

The scene changes once again, this time the Team Principal of the currently reining team was now in the seat.

“Vito had gotten in contact with me when she first started F2,” the older Briton said. “But we wanted to see what would happen. We took a chance at Max, way back then. But this was a bit different.”

The interviewer asked, “Because she was a girl?”

Christian shook his head.

“Because she was 16 at the start: younger than Max was by two years. Sure, she turned 17 at the end of the season due to a later birthday in October. But, we took a step back to see what she could do, especially now that they changed the age rules after Max. She was dropped by PREMA, and we almost took the chance then to maybe bring her in as a development driver. But, Vito was adamant about her wanting a championship. She wanted records broken, and she did.”

“How did everything go down? Before she knew.”

He smiled.

“I called him right after I got the article from Max. Youngest to win an F2 Championship and a female on top of that.”

“Was everything pretty smooth sailing?”

He shook his head. “I was advised not to sign her, but I was told ‘no’ for Max and you see where that got me. I wasn’t going to let her go to a team that wouldn’t let her shine.”

The scene changes to the RB19 being driven out at the mock track for training. The girl’s white helmet was a stark contrast against the deep navy of the car. The camera panned to the mock pit wall. Multiple people pressed buttons as they watched you take lap after lap.

A much older man just looked on with pinched eyebrows, not really interested in seeing what the girl had to offer.

After the final testing times had been clocked, he stood up and slammed his papers on a table, before he left the pits. Christian smirked as he watched him stalk off. He knew he made the right call for the second time.

“How did it feel being in the seat for the first time?”

The girl, back in the seat, responded, “It felt surreal.”

She kept talking as the screen faded into clips of the car.

The aerial view watched as the car look several laps: getting close ups and shots of the car going around the corners.

“I went from having the door slammed into my face to the door being blown to bits.”

“Did Vito ever tell you that he was talking to multiple people at once?”

She looked at the camera. “He did. But he knew what I needed. That’s why he’s been my manager since 2018.”

The scene changes to multiple flashing cameras as the girl walked into the paddock for the first time in Vegas. The cameras followed as she straight up walked to the group of older guys, introduced herself, and followed Max as he walked away. The rest of the guys watched her animatedly talk to the man who hated every second of the Las Vegas Grand Prix.

“The beginning of your season was filled with a lot of highs,”

The screen flashes to multiple clips of you raising trophies, especially highlighting your podium in Bahrain.

“And lows.”

The female’s eyebrows raised. “No kidding.”

The scene changes to your car flipping in Suzuka before panning to people’s reactions. Many people immediately stood up. Others put their hands over their mouths. Many stayed sitting, frozen in shock over what they just saw.

The screen fades to black, but radio messages can be heard.

“Kid, you have to answer me.”

“Tell me you’re ok. You need to respond.”

“I can’t lose you too.”

Charles was back in the chair. Tears could be seen in his lash line as he exhaled a shaky breath. He closed his eyes, trying to get over his emotions.

“A crash like that doesn’t happen every day. It was awful, just waiting to hear back from her. Really took me back to 2014. Reminded me of Jules. On the same track. Rain. I don’t think I would have finished the season if she hadn’t made it.”

The scene changes to multiple marshals standing around the car, trying to get to you. Except, you were trapped. They didn’t want to start cutting, just in case there was a fuel leak. They did not need for the car to catch fire.

“I remember watching Lewis just turn around,” George said, now that he was in the seat. “He kept shaking his head and muttering. I couldn’t stop crying.”

“Y/n is a driver who was shy at the beginning, but then got more comfortable with you as time passed. She became precious to everyone on the grid.” Oscar offered a smile, but it fell short as he remembered Suzuka.

“There hadn’t-” Lewis began, but cut short. He swallowed before he kept going. “There hadn’t been a crash like that since 2014. And the last time it happened, he didn’t make it. I was honestly preparing myself for the worst.”

Max shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. Yet, anyone could see that his hands were shaking just a bit, his fingers picking at his skin.

“She just wouldn’t answer. And then they got Arthur Leclerc on the radio, thinking that he could get to her. Even then, she didn’t respond for what felt like hours. We were all waiting, on the pit lane, just hoping that she’d start talking soon.”

“What did it feel like for you in the car?”

The female was back in the seat.

“All I really remember was seeing the sky and the grass as I rolled, and then nothing. I had totally blacked out. When I was coming to, I just remember hearing so much through the radio, I didn’t know what to make of it. I think I laughed as I answered. I was just happy to be alive.”

“We know that was your first DNF. Thankfully the second wasn’t as bad.”

“No kidding,” she laughed. “My car just doesn’t have very good balance.”

“You’ve had lots of podiums. Which one was the most fulfilling?”

The girl looked up in thought. Her eyes narrowed, truly going over her options. She didn’t want to have to talk about certain matters, but she didn’t want it to be brought up later.

She answered, “Imola.”

“What was so special or daunting because of it?”

The blond harshly inhaled, before smirking a bit. “Well, lot of people knew how it ended.”

The scene changes to multiple police cars around the paddock. The camera barely caught a glimpse of two people being let away in handcuff before panning over to the group of drivers. The lens zoomed in on your face, a big bruise forming by your eye. Max was standing protectively near you as Christian was still yelling at the people in the car. The other drivers can be seen hovering around the scene.

Max gulped before he sighed.

“I knew it was bad, but not this bad. I’m just glad that I had gotten to her in time.”

The female stretched. “Except I got a trophy out of it, so, I wasn’t too sad.”

The scene changes to the next race, where most of the drivers were waiting for the parade. They could tell that someone was missing. Except, right when Lando was about to bring it up, you walked in. Sunglasses were on your eyes, trying to hide the ugly yellow and purple blotch on your face. Except, it didn’t do too much to actually hide it.

“Afternoon,” you said, sipping on a drink that you brought. Your fingers took off your glasses, multiple drivers wincing. “It’s not that bad.”

Lando rolled his eyes before muttering, “They shouldn’t have been allowed back in.”

Max handed you an icepack, which you grabbed immediately. Logan brought you into a side hug and let you rest against him.

The Dutchman let everyone know that you had finally gotten your restraining order approved. Smiles adorned the rest of the drivers’ faces at the news.

An older Aussie was now in the seat.

“I wasn’t there when she met everyone. But I watched Max let her follow him, in Vegas. It was cute, ‘cause I’ve never seen Max act like that before. But she’ s been a good teammate to him. Not trying to be rude, but I’m also putting myself down when I say this: she has been the best teammate that Max has ever had.”

The scene changes to you and Max in a car on the way to a race. The two of you are seated next to each other and phones are in your hands. A sudden gasp from you has you reaching over to Max, your hand smacking his chest.

The Dutchman winces. “What?”

“Taylor Swift broke up with Travis Kelce. Fernando has his chance.”

Viewers would have thought that Max would seem uninterested, but his eyes widened and he was suddenly leaning over, trying to get a good look at your phone.

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not. See?” You just handed your phone over and Max was instantly enthralled with the device, fingers scrolling quickly.

“It’s definitely like they have a competitive sibling relationship.”

Max watched as you were talking to Oscar, the afternoon after you hit his car. Max smirked as he walked past and bumped you on purpose. Your head whipped around, trying to find who did that. Once you saw Max’s shoulders shake as he walked away, it was over. You quickly said goodbye to Oscar before running up to Max.

What he did not expect was for you to jump on his back, almost sending him face first into cement. He stumbled but his arms were quick to grab your legs. Your giggles were loud next to his ear, but Max guessed that he’d let you stay.

“I know for a fact that it’s been good to see Max a bit more carefree. Y/n really brings out the good in him. She really does that to everyone though.”

Rain was pouring down in Brazil, due to a hurricane in the area. The race had been canceled and Max was just chilling in the garage. His eyes caught your figure walking out into the downpour. He watched as you just stood there, getting drenched. That was until you started dancing to no music at all.

Max got up from his seat and walked over to a manager.

“May I?” he asked, the manager nodding his head.

He plugged his phone into a jack and clicked on a specific playlist that the two of you had made together. Normally, it would be playing while the two of you warmed up to get ready in the car. But now it was playing as you continued to dance.

Max quickly joined you and bumped you with his hip. The cameras caught you looking up at your older teammate, whose body was quickly getting drenched. Before long, the two of you were dancing in the rain.

And very possibly, the other drivers joined in too.

“She really cares for him. It was like they met and clicked right away.”

Clips of you and Max filled the screen. Walking together in the paddock, signing things for fans, doing stupid things for media day, congratulating each other after races.

It showed you checking on him after a DNF, wanting a legitimate answer if he was okay or not. Once Max gave the thumbs up and Mitch told you that he was, the cameras in your car showed how your body visibly relaxed after know that he was ok.

“Sure, they’ve had their troubles.”

The scene changes to Max passing you in Monaco.

Your voice was heard over the scene. “What an asshole.”

The scene changed to you not letting Max pass and him hitting the back of your RB20 in Belgium.

“That was a rookie mistake.”

The viewers knew that they had deliberately cut a certain action out of the scene, but it was something that they were actually thankful that Netflix cut.

“But they always apologize and get back to it. I think that’s how she got her first win. She needed to know that they could truly work as a team.”

The scene showed you and Max giving each other a big hug in The Netherlands after Max won the Dutch Grand Prix.

The scene changes once more.

“How was it? Winning in the city of red.”

“Words cannot express.”

The screen showed you walking in on that fateful morning, bright orange car in the background. You waved to the crowds, who seemed to get louder with your attention. Your smile brightly shone as you kept walking, only stopping momentarily for a few autographs and pictures.

“Y/n L/n On Pole in Monza – Youngest Pole Sitter in F1 History”

“There she goes! Y/n L/n has won the 2024 Italian Grand Prix. She was starving, but now she’s been satiated. The youngest pole sitter and turned that into a win.”

“Y/n L/n – First Female To Ever Win a Formula 1 Grand Prix”

"Y/n L/n Hailed as 'The Long Awaited' by Italian Fans"

The camera pans to the girl standing on the nose of her car, hands stretched up reaching for the sky. Max, who had DNF earlier, came over. She grasped him tightly, legs around his waist. Christian was behind them, joining in the celebrations. Soon, the entirety of the crew got over the barrier and flooded the area. The two Ferrari drivers, in a respectable P2 and P3, watched as the female driver was almost covered by people. If it wasn’t them, then they were glad it was her.

The blond returned back to the seat.

“Let me tell you, the after party was probably my favorite part of the weekend. Well, besides the winning part.”

“After Monza, how did the rest of the season go.”

“Well, I did go on to win 3 more races.” The girl smirked.

Clips of the number 89 car crossing the finish line cover the screen.

“Y/n L/n takes her second win of the season after Monza in Mexico!

It showed you waving to the crowds of Mexico, flag draped over your shoulders with a sombrero on your head..

“A homecoming of sorts, Y/n L/n wins a third race under the lights of Las Vegas!

Your fists were clenched as you shook them while your knees were bent. The while Elvis suit kind of glowed against the night sky.

“L/n wins her fourth race of the season in Abu Dhabi. Ending a perfect rookie year on a high!”

The crowds watch you get on your hands and knees before your car. Your hands outstretched in almost a mock bow to the machine.

The scenes show the you hoisting up three more trophies, all while pointing to the sky after each one.

The interviewer looked down at their questions, before glancing back up at the girl.

“What was your worst race? One that you didn’t DNF.”

The girl didn’t even hesitate. “Qatar.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged. “I thought it would be cooler.”

The screen goes black, but then changes to a very busy scene. People could see medical personelle holding onto a driver by their arms. Their legs all but dragged along the concrete. Lights flashed around as they brought her to a makeshift cot. Her helmet was ripped off along with the cloth under it. You gasped as you tried to catch your breath. Your cheeks were red and your hair matted with sweat.

“I need an IV and cooling towels now!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s going to pass out again.”

“Hey, you need to stay awake. Do not close your eyes.”

“Her breath is more shallow, she needs to cool down. Get buckets of ice and water.”

It changes to a podium, but only two drivers are present. It was supposed to be a Papaya sandwich after Oscar had gotten his first actual race win. They looked worried and barely stayed for the celebrations.

The cameras followed as the orange drivers as they ran to the Red Bull garage once the podium was finished. They expected to see you still unconscious, since that was the last they heard before the podium. Yet, they were surprised to see you upright and smiley. An IV was connected to your arm, but you were awake.

Oscar ran, before wrapping his arms around you.

“Do not do that again. I can’t believe that you kept racing.”

You smiled up at him and Lando.

“What can I say? I’m indestructible.”

“She’s impressive.” A German voices his opinion now that he’s in the seats. “I don’t wish to say it, but I’m glad she’s at the different team. I don’t know if we would have been able to give her the car that she needed.”

The interviewer looks a Toto for a moment, before continuing. “You think she’ll leave Red Bull at some point in her career?”

The Mercedes Team Principal shakes his head. “No. She’s going to stay until she retires. I’m sure of it. But who am I to talk about staying with a team forever.”

The scene changes to you and Max, both casually hanging out. You sighed as you looked down at your phone. Max quirked an eyebrow, but stayed silent, giving you the go ahead to spill.

“They’re asking again if I’m going to be staying past 2026.” Your arms waved around before you huffed and they fell at your sides.

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Are you wanting to stay past that?”

You grinned at the older driver. “Can’t go anywhere when I have the best here.”

The scene changes to the blond female Red Bull racer, back in the chair once again.

“Do you think you’ll ever move teams?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I will. It seems that every racer’s dream is to drive for the team in red, but not mine. I’ve always wanted to just race for the team that will get me places, and I think that Red Bull can stay on top for many years to come.”

The interviewer continued. “What do you think you’ll do after Formula 1.”

She smirked.

“After, I want to collect. I’m thinking the triple crown. Probably go to endurance racing and then 1 year of Indy. I know I’ll be able to do it.”

“If you could have your dream team for Le Mans, who would it be?”

“Either Leclerc in addition to Max. I don’t think I could be anyone else’s teammate ever.”

Clips of Charles, Arthur, Y/n, and Max showed on the screen. They might look like an odd bunch, but they worked somehow. Arthur had been promoted at the end of 2024 to actually drive for Porsche in the 2025 Qatar endurance race. Late in the editing, they were able to sneak in a clip of the four of you celebrating after he podiumed.

“So, we heard that you and Max were able to sign new contracts at the end of 2024. How long are the both of you going to stay.”

The girl thought for a moment, trying to think of how to word it correctly.

“Well, we both have kind of open ended contracts like Charles signed in early 2024. Christian said that he’ll do his best to keep us there, but we aren’t bound. I plan to stay for a while and so does Max if they keep giving us good cars that can still dominate.”

“Do you plan to break any more records? You sure had a lot in the past season as well as early years.”

“How many do I have?” she asked.

The interviewer counted. “Five.”

She smirked for the final time for the episode. “Five? That’s hardly enough. Let’s make it interesting and get 6.”

Everyone in the room laughed at her joke.

The screen cut to black and the episode ended. Yet when the female racer retired, they went back and added one more thing.

“Y/n L/n went on to be the most decorated racer of all time. She ended up breaking 22 records in the duration of her entire motorsport career, that no one has been able to touch since.”

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myladysapphire · 4 months ago

Text

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

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marudol · 3 months ago

Text

kabru and the dungeon lords

kabru is a very critical character to dungeon meshi for a thousand and one reasons, and not merely for his status as the point-of-view character in the story's b-plot. kabru represents the compass by which dungeon meshi's world works. he has big-picture motives that involve the entire world, much grander than the original a-plot of "let's save falin."

he is our classic hero, a character who suffered great personal tragedy and must ensure that no one suffers the same fate. as such, he is a great parallel for dungeon meshi's most integral characters:

the dungeon lords themselves.

🚨manga spoilers ahead.🚨

thistle

picture this: you are a child, separate from anyone else in the world who looks like you due to circumstances beyond your control. you are taken by pale-skinned adults who try to treat you well; who clothe you, feed you, and put a roof over your head.

it is not enough.

who am i describing - kabru, or thistle?

kabru-thistle parallels focus on their shared past as trans-racial adoptees. their shared experiences are not a universal one to all trans-racial adoptions in the dungeon meshi universe: the floke twins are treated well by their gnomish foster (grand)parents; allowed to be children while they are children and treated as adults when they are adults.

not all trans-racial adoptees are given the same courtesy. kabru was raised by an elf who infantilized him, even once he was fully-grown. milsiril did not always know what kabru needed from her, so she defaulted to treating him the way she would treat an elf his age rather than understand what his age meant as a tall-man.

by contrast, thistle was raised by tall-men. freinag saw thistle as a son and so he and delgal thought themselves as brothers. but as delgal aged and matured, thistle remained stagnant. eventually, delgal's relative age surpassed thistle's- but no one could even conceive of that, because thistle's numerical age made the tall-men around him treat him as an adult rather than a teenager.

they both feel immense responsibility for the tragedies suffered by their people. kabru explicitly believes there must be a "reason" he survived utaya and that the reason was to destroy the dungeons to ensure it never happened again, and thistle IS the reason the golden country survived their war, and why eodio made it to adulthood all.

kabru and thistle are characters pre- and post-accomplishing their goals. kabru has yet to assume total responsibility; thistle already has.

they must save them- they must protect them all.

[🩵]

marcille

once upon a time, a child lost a parent before they were ready to, and the trajectory of their life changed forever. desperate to understand, the child grew into an adult and dedicated themself to preventing their personal loss from happening to anyone else ever again. as a result, they looked downward into the dungeon's depths.

they will find the answers they seek.

who am i describing- kabru, or marcille?

marcille and kabru stand as important secondary figures to laios, our main protagonist. in the words of another excellent post, they are the heaven foils to laios's earth. where laios is grounded and thinking about the here and now, they have both identified big picture problems plaguing their world and pursue these goals with intense fervor.

however, these goals have been diverted by censorship. marcille cannot access information about historical ancient magic through traditional means and the elves won't tell kabru what happened to utaya's dungeon, so they both decide to go and do something with their own two hands.

entering the dungeon is a step towards their grander goals, which are both rooted in opposition to long-lived supremacy. critically: the solutions they come to are vastly different.

marcille's solution is very fantastical - "fixing" everyone's lifespans by making EVERYONE long-lived (though her original solution seemed to be more grounded; being a lord gave her the chance to indulge in the full fantasy).

on the other hand, kabru wants something more concrete and based in the real world. he wants to use the dungeon as a means to an end before destroying it entirely, whereas marcille wants the dungeon to be the end. hers is a magic idea borne about by escapism, while kabru wants to solve a societal problem with something tangible to improve the lives of the shorter-lived without resorting to the fantastical.

(note the similarity in these compositions!)

kabru and marcille are aiming for the heavens; they have chosen to act as stewards to bring about a better future for as many people as possible.

but eventually, they must crash back down to earth.

[🩵]

mithrun

a long time ago, a dungeon lord met their maker and the demon ate its fill, but failed to breach the surface. carnage and destruction was sown in its wake. in the aftermath, a survivor dedicated himself completely and utterly to the cause with no room for reproach.

the dungeon will be conquered. and if he has it his way, it will be conquered by his hand.

who am i describing- kabru, or mithrun?

if thistle represents kabru's past and marcille represents kabru's present, than mithrun represents one branch of kabru's future- and a rather bleak one.

mithrun has suffered great tragedy at the hands of a dungeon and, as a result, dedicated himself to be what he believes is his one remaining desire: to finally be consumed entirely. he thinks he has nothing else to live for, so he runs himself ragged every single day just to inch closer and closer at a chance to kill himself while pursuing his goal.

this great fervor is one that kabru artificially mimics long before meeting mithrun. kabru is willing to die for his goals. he does die for his goals. he thinks he is going to die without a chance for resurrection when he sabotages the canaries, which is why his 'last' thought is "it's up to you now, laios!"

remember: kabru believes his survival has to serve a purpose- his survival must have been 'worth it.' in order to make his own survival palettable, kabru dedicates himself entirely to the dungeon's destruction without long-lived intervention as a means to avoid repeating utaya's fate. kabru self-deprives, fails to care for himself, and he is constantly killed in pursuit of his goal to conquer the dungeon before people like the canaries can. while kabru has desires, he only indulges in the one that has guided him for over a decade.

functionally, he and mithrun are identical when they first meet.

kabru has purposefully deprived himself of his desires beyond ensuring another utaya doesn't happen again, and mithrun is proof of what happens when you follow that to its logical conclusion. however, over the course of their week together and the final arc of the story, kabru makes the choice to divert from mithrun's fate.

kabru looks into the eye of his ultimate goal, and in the culmination of his arc, ultimately refuses this destiny.

what do you want, kabru? are you hungry, kabru?

kabru indulges. instead of blindly following through the dungeon's destruction and sacrificing what he wants for the greater good, he wants, and he befriends laios instead of ending his life. he leaves mithrun's fate behind...

...and senshi- one of the most steadfast representatives of dungeon meshi's thesis- sets mithrun on a path where he, too, can learn to chase after newer, healthier desires.

[🩵]

laios

one day, a child was hungry for the answer to a question: "what is wrong with me?"

there is no satisfactory answer. a mother and a sister believe nothing is wrong, but everyone else in their small world disagrees. those eyes, that personality- something must be wrong.

but there is no recourse.

so, these children endeavor to focus on the world around them in ways that won't hurt them. one chooses to study and love humans, because humans are beautiful and complex and amazing. the other chooses to study and love monsters, because monsters are easier to understand and always obey one simple rule: eat or be eaten.

they double down on their interests soon enough. monsters have hurt one child enough, and humans can't get enough of hurting the other.

you know which one is kabru. you know which one is laios- dungeon meshi's fabled narrative foils.

laios and kabru are as textually close to being explicit foils as humanly possible. the first sentence of kabru's page of the adventurer's bible says it perfectly: "in every possible way, he's a contrast with laios. laios loves monsters, while kabru has an endless interest in humans" (56).

in basic terms, a foil character is a character with traits that contrast against another's, typically the main protagonist. this contrast serves to highlight the themes of the story, and we see that illustrated perfectly with laios and kabru.

where kabru has denied himself care, laios gives it to him without thinking. where laios believed no one could ever want to be his friend, kabru proves him wrong. the nature of nourishment and human connection are both critical foundations to dungeon meshi's story, and the main character struggling with human connection while his foil struggles with nourishment is no mistake.

kabru wanted to be laios's friend all along. the b-plot of dungeon meshi is driven by kabru's unconscious desire to understand and ultimately aid one inscrutable laios touden. the reason they cross paths at all is because kabru wants to meet him! he takes a chance when toshiro appears and sees his chance through.

but kabru doesn't realize it until he's already said it. he betrays himself, completely unaware that his supposed interest in the touden siblings skews a little more to the right than he could have possibly known.

killing laios would have been the ultimate preventative measure. he was yet to be dungeon lord, and with the canaries intent on handling marcille, kabru could have dealt with him right then on that cliff. but kabru doesn't take the opportunity because he doesn't want to.

he'd rather befriend laios than see him dead, and he takes the chance by the sleeve and doesn't let go until he is listened to.

and in the end, kabru is rewarded for his leap of faith: laios puts an end to the demon. laios has ensured that another utaya will never happen again.

laios saves the world.

all because kabru allowed himself to be selfish.

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indecisivemuch · 2 months ago

Note

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore.

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off.

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own.

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be.

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near.

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him.

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.”

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand.

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

“Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words.

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word.

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you.

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters.

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years.

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand.

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention.

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts.

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you.

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you.

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him.

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying.

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to.

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on.

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love,

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do,

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago.

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before.

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility.

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you.

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?”

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew.

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.”

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly.

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you��a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner.

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two.

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints.

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that.

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment.

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.”

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

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

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deepmochi · 10 months ago

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SYNASTRY: Venus in the houses (7th-12th) part 2

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Note: Honestly, I had a draft for the 2nd part, but probably I deleted by mistake, or tumblr did it (idk). Maybe, That's why I thought I already posted the 2nd part, but I was wrong.

Part 1 🩷

♡ Venus in the 7th house ♡

These couple usually views commitment as all or nothing, are you in or not? They have strong values about true love, and they will follow them. Love is viewed as a contract by their souls or hearts. If they break any aspect proposed, they know it's the end. They can be reflections of themselves either the good or the bad. When the contract is done, it's over. The Venusian sees the house person as a very stable being. They feel safe and prepared for them. These two may live together before the year of knowing each other romantically. The pair just feel ready when it's about commitment. The house natives perceive the Venusian as very "wife/husband" material for them. With this overlay, their personalities blend well and work together. It feels natural for both of you to be close and intimate together. For others is moving too fast, and for them is easy to become intimate with each other. The seventh house person fits well for the planet native. These two feel like it's a soulmate connection, very easy. You’re both drawn to please each other. It's a very strong connection for long-term relationships. It takes time for them to move on if they ever break up. If Venus has bad aspects, it can be a toxic relationship. The reason for this, it's that they prefer to stay together instead of being alone or start something new. Intimate gesture like hugs and someone hand guiding the other. Cooking dates and going out at night the most. "Here, I bought this?";morning texts: " how are you today? My day...." "Can I call you, I miss your voice"; " My mom ask if we can go to her party?" ; "we should go to that restaurant"; Formal clothes; "hey, look me, they don't know how worthy you are". They like to spend time with people they love. Balance. If Venus cooks today, the house will do it tomorrow. Wearing nice clothes and a good perfume to impress the other. Compliments and physical touches, especially kisses in the cheek. Cheesy things like love letters. Having "the song" or the place.

♡ Venus in the 8th house ♡

These two have a different kind of love. The Venusian feels like the house person bring something in them that they can explain. Sometimes, these people have taboos to share. Death has impact their lives. The house person may become obssess with the planet person. Sex isn't a way emerger together. Usually, they possess the same interest in taboo topics. In the beginning, Venus feels attracted to the house, but it's also scared of them. Their sexual energy is intense. The 8th house person wants to know the Venusian's secrets and fears. Both are possessive, but the house win the round. They detest when their partner don't respect them. Their relationship status will remain a secret for the public eye (in the beginning). They would share many things even traumas (if hardly aspected). The house native will protect the Planet from the world. Sex can be very intimate or aggressive (bsdm stuff). These people will not be the same they were when they met. For them, love is intense and transformational. The house feels that the Venus native is trustworthy, but they need to see their actions. Holding hands during intimate times. During sex they will talk and have intense stares. "I don't like that person, be aware of them", "Here, use this for yourself"; "if you need money, just let me know"; "don't lie to me, I know you are sad"; his/her hand on your thing while eyes are on the road; taking notes of your gestures. They have weird hobbies together and enjoy dark humor too. Moonlight sex and long sessions.

♡ Venus in the 9th house♡

These individuals perceive love as a new adventure and try to go with the flow. If they're mature, they prefer to maintain a very healthy relationship. Both prefer to travel and know about new places and cultures. Love is not as other say. They may prefer to do things their way. Venusian isn't instantly involve, but they see the house as interesting. For the house native, the planet is nice an attractive, but they will not force things. The house native could be older than the Venusian. The house person likes the planet manners and life vision the most. They see the commitment as an experience. Sometimes, marriage isn't obligatory requirement. They may enjoy walks, museum, and play board games. One could be from another country or have a different culture. Their relationship presents a new chapter in their lives and their families. Besides, they like to engage in intellectual debates, maybe they are into philosophy. If they broke up, they will try to be professional or move on. They can meet later in life after maturing. It's likely that you will work together or in the same environment. Having a child or more is possible, so use protection. "Look at here, we can travel here"; "aww, baby, you were right they declare that"; ["I really want to buy that book" / "baby, you have that book already"]; Saving for vacations; buying each other souvenirs or antique objects as gifts; reading books and doing small debates about it; *knowing each other during trips, universities, conferences, cultural events, and religious activities" Buying new book editions. They love to try new foods or learn about new places together. They could meet while traveling or in college.

♡ Venus in the 10th house♡

Coworkers to lover vibes. They are comfy with being mature. Similarly to the previous combo, the house partner is the older one or has more experience. This partner also has more dominant energy. They could meet in different levels. The negative aspect is that they could be very nitpicking and too logical when it comes to love. The planet individual sees the house person as straightforward and mature. Partnership is very important; it's like a contract. If one of the part broke a part of the deal, it's done. They can work together or met during college (last year), conference or work related things. They are straightforward and mature when approaching the other. If badly aspect it, they have an issue with power imbalance (not good at all). Big egos over emotions, this is the start of arguments. They plan their dates. The planet person accepts that the house individual cares for their image and professional life. The Venusian isn't afraid of being a home stayed wife. Here the Venusian knows and appreciates the house efforts to balance their stability. Nonetheless, the house person must value the venusian support. Doing plans after they leave the work; caring for the other in profesional settings; making food or leaving notes in the stuff *you can do it* in their computer. Making each other feel valuable "Here, i make you favorite food"; let's celebrate your new position"; *making time to luch together*; naming the other whenever they can "I'm grateful for my wife meals and support"; giving gifts and showing their s/o in public. Even thought people think they aren't super romantic, they will try to match things. It could be rings, watches or wearing the same brand. Looking good.

♡ Venus in the 11th house♡

Love depicts a friend to lover storyline where both care for dreams and humanity. It's very possible that they met when they were helping other people. The Venusian fits the house's ideal type. They seem more friendlier than other couples. You wouldn't think they were dating at first. They prefer to joke around, but they love each other. The Venusian share the dreams the house native have for life. It's also likely that they like each other in the future, even if they met since birth. They prefer to have experience with love before settling down. Its common to see them as "I thought they were only friends". The Venusian sees the house person as humanitarian, reliable and interesting. Stay protected because big family can be a thing. Moreover, the must clarify about what is a family. The house perceives the planet native as beautiful and too much to some people. Together, they will form a very unique pair and family. Regardless Venusian feel the planet as hopeful person. The eleventh house person sees a future with the venusian because they feel understood. Love for the house is independent, and the venusian can see this as as a relief. Making fun of the other in a non hurtful way. "I can't deal with you right now *kiss them*"; "Alexa plays titanic's song" *grabs the venusian and starts dancing*; *hugs their s/o when they're cooking*; being romantic when they're alone; sending spicy texts "come home, I'm ready"; talking about the future; matching devices or wallpapers; a lot of trust, they share passwords. Having the same or similar friends. They like to help other people. Donating for other people as a hobby or helping to people who need. Dates in the nature. Cleaning beaches, rivers or places.

♡ Venus in the 12th house♡

Love is simple but blurry. They can't get confused in how they love. The house sees the Venusian see them as the real deal. The planet perceive the house native as too good for them. There are some blurry aspects that they don't understand. When this synastry happens, it can feel too blurry for outsiders. Sometimes, they feel as friends and others as partners. At times, they hide their feelings without realizing or because they don't want to hurt the other. The house may hide their crush for the planet (too well). The Venus feel like the house person hides things for them. The house native don't want to bother the venusian. The house wants to give all they have to the venusian without having a concrete reason (maybe they are friends, but they are their #1 friend). This connection feel very special even divinely guided. The house is very observant with the Venusian Different backgrounds, it's possible that the house person has faith or not. One (usually the venusian) is more intuitive. Venus comes to open the house's eyes to other knowledge. The house will do all they can, so the venusian is happy. They can be soulmates (even non platonic). On the negative side, they don't have good communication because they avoid confronting each other. Both have experience paranormal activity, but only one believes more. The Venus person will try to invite the house to their home (pure opening of their soul). The Venusian can be quite delulu, but the house see it as funny or special. They met when something is ending for the Venusian. Romantic times, home dates, asking the other about things or traumas carefully, a special vibe around them. *Big smiles and shiny eyes*, "I buy you this; you tell me two months ago around 9pm" "aww thank you", "are you sleeping well?" - "yes" , *astrology or tarot talks* "can you give your birth time?" - "12:34 am" " it was bad?" "No, we match". Talk about paranormal activities like any other topic, special dates, random celebrations, secret spots, discreet dates, spirtual conection, they may understand the other, but can't explain it.

Take what resonates only. 💚

#venus #venus synastry #astrology #venus in the 7th house #astrologynotes #zodiac #astrology community #venus in the 12th house #venus in the 8th house #venus in the 11th house #Venus in the 9th house #venus in the 10th house #astrologia #aries #scorpio #libra #deepmochi #pisces

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bvidzsoo · 4 months ago

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Obliviate Me

✩‧₊˚ Obliviate ⇄ to forget [Latin] ✩‧₊˚

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: dark!Park Seonghwa x female reader

✩‧₊˚ Warning: smut, addiction, ptsd, mentions of war, violence, fights ✩‧₊˚ Word count: 27.6k ✩‧₊˚ Rating: nsfw ✩‧₊˚ Genre: Harry Potter!au, set in the forties/Grindelwald's time, lovers to enemies!au, tragic love!au ✩‧₊˚ Summary: ✩‧₊˚ Grindelwald's reign holds everyone under terror, and you decide you want to join the right side and put an end to it. But the stars seem to refuse to align for you and your lover as you find yourselves on opposing teams. Will your love prevail, or will you succumb to the darkness? ✩‧₊˚

A/N: My lovelies, I...I am bawling my eyes out ngl, I can't believe I wrote this. Bring a box of tissues with you before you sit down reading, I am already forever sorry if I cause anyone any heartache<3 I have proofread this, but it's past 1am and you might still find mistakes, so I'm sorry about that! There's little time jumps in here, so for a quick clarification, after each divider you'll find them back in the current time (which is still in the forties!). I probably had a lot more things to say, but I forgot and I'm sleepy, so I'll settle for this much: there are probably some inaccuracies to the Harry Potter canon events as I took some creative liberty so yeah, keep that in mind when reading; also Mingi and MC aren't related, they just share the same surname! I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this oneshot y'all (as into everything I write LOL), so I hope you enjoy! I appreciate all of your thoughts, so please leave feedback, I love reading them!<3 (special shotout to @hwasbbyg because somehow I always have you in mind when I'm writing something Seonghwa related <3) divider

Times were dire, both in the Wizarding World and the Muggle World. Supremist leaders with atrocious views unleashed attack after attack upon innocent civilians, creating more destruction than victory. My heart broke daily reading the newspaper, both the muggle and wizard one. It made my blood boil that two men, so different yet similar upon closer view, would play God and decide what was wrong and right. Who was pure and who deserved to suffer. Nobody was perfect, nobody will ever be. I couldn’t just sit idly at home and be the housewife many women dreamed of becoming after graduating. I wanted to make a name for myself, I wished to become strong enough to save the innocent, to take their side and advocate for those who were too scared or weak to do so for themselves. That is why upon graduating from Hogwarts, I became an Auror. The training was harsh and demanding, but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t ready to bear if it meant it would lead to saving millions of lives. I was sick of all the spilled blood and wailing on the streets, I wished to see peace and serenity, to go to bed without the fear of never waking up again. Four years have passed since I have left the confines of Hogwarts, since I was forced to face the horrors of the outside world, to fend for myself, and to become someone. It was hard and terrifying, but for once, I felt complete. I felt happy with where I stood in my life, I was proud of who I had become. And I knew that as long as Grindelwald isn’t stopped, I shall not rest even for a second.

The auditorium was small in size and stuffed, the benches placed in a circular shape around a platform that had a table sitting on it and a chair. It was deep down on the second level, far away from the Auror’s offices, hidden between the women’s and men’s restrooms. The auditorium wasn’t meant to be easily found and it was only used when a situation had turned dire, when an emergency meeting just had to be called. I had chosen to sit towards the back of the auditorium, closer to the exit as the air felt stale and warm inside the stuffed room, at least thirty aurors squeezed together towards the front of the room. My throat felt parched and my palms were sweaty as I had them placed in front of me, leveling my breaths as Theseus Scamander, the Head of the Auror Office, stood tall on the platform, a forlorn look on his face. Anyone who had picked up the newspaper earlier this morning must’ve seen the devastating news of the destruction caused to the small and welcoming wizarding village, Apo’s Nook. There was nothing left of it, just the ashes of ghosts that would haunt the land and the smoking foundations of destroyed homes that would never flourish again.

I felt a lump in my throat as Theseus sighed long and loud, eyes surveying the auditorium. It was deadly silent in here, everyone was either too mad or sad to say anything. The time was barely nine in the morning and we knew we had a long day ahead of us. This meeting was a top-secret one, whatever was said inside this auditorium would be never allowed to leave the confines of these walls. Only the best of the best aurors were called in, no doubt for a mission that would be challenging both physically and mentally. It wouldn’t be my first special mission, yet I couldn’t help but feel dread for what was to come. A tiny voice in the back of my head tried to whisper warnings this morning while I was getting ready to come to work, my gut twisting nauseatingly and making me more restless than I usually was. Something would happen here today that I wouldn’t like, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Good morning, aurors.” Theseus’ voice rang loudly in the quiet room and I gulped, feeling sweat collect on my nape, under my hair. I didn’t want to get rid of my jacket, finding the warmth it provided comforting, but I was sweating too much. Careful, not to make any sound, I wrestled out of the satin fabric and placed it onto the table in front of me. My dress was thick to protect me from the merciless winter, and it reached just below my ankles as the front had a V-cut that stopped just above the valley of my breasts, “I assume you all know by now why you’ve been called here.”

There was a collective murmur of confirmation to Theseus’ question and I gulped, patting my forehead free of any perspiration, “What occurred in the early hours of today’s morning is—terrible and unforgivable.”

I couldn’t help but let my eyes run over the aurors as Theseus’ voice shook with raw emotion. He was just as affected by the news as everyone else in the room. I fiddled with my fingers as my eyes finally fell on a familiar person, the tiniest smile slipping onto my lips. It brought little comfort and assurance to see my former professor in a place where I was surrounded by fearless warriors who were mere strangers to me, but would soon become my trusted companions. The only other two aurors that I did become friends with throughout the four years of working here were Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho, partners in missions and other aspects of life, and I haven’t seen them in over a month now. They were alive, and as safe as possible, but they were far away from our home, in a land colder and far scarier than what London was at the moment. They were close to the German border, spying on Grindelwald’s men having infiltrated themselves amongst them. They were our precious informants, their jobs far more dangerous than ours at the moment. I couldn’t help but pray every night to a God that listened, that the two people I started cherishing in such a short time would return to me in one piece and alive.

“Grindelwald has destroyed another village,” Theseus’ words snapped me out of my thoughts as Professor Dumbledore turned his head, gaze finding mine, “wizards and witches were killed once again because they refused to join his dark cause. This cannot go on anymore, I won’t allow it.”

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head slightly in a nonverbal greeting before he turned his head, looking at Theseus with an unreadable expression on his face. I gulped and subconsciously reached for the pocket of my coat, feeling around for the plastic holder in the shape of a tube.

“I was given full permission to construct a team that will directly take out Grindelwald’s men until he’s left with nothing, until he’s alone and powerless.” Theseus leered, face contorted into fury, “I shall task you with bringing down these disgraces one by one, dead or alive, I do not care as long they cannot help Grindelwald anymore.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic, my head turning when I saw a man stand up with a heavy-looking folder in his hands approach Theseus, “We have gathered all the information we could about Grindelwald’s most important wizards and witches, they are our main target. I want you all to look at these photographs closely, commit them to memory as each one of you will be handed one to capture and bring forth to the court.”

I watched from the back of the auditorium as the man opened the folder and placed it down on a table in the front row, starting to hand out photograph after photograph. Knowing that I sat way too far in the back, I rose to my feet and swiftly took the plastic bottle from my pocket, slipping it between my breasts so that nobody would see it. Pushing my hands behind my back, I walked down a few stairs until I reached the row that had more wizards sitting in it, grabbing a photograph that wasn’t being looked at yet. The picture was in black and white, but the face of the witch was clear. Something in my stomach coiled as I recognized her being my peer at Hogwarts, just a year above myself, and a Slytherin like I had been too. The man sitting next to me looked at me with a questioning gaze, and I passed him the photograph as he handed me another one, this one of an older wizard who had a cunning look in his eyes as he held a cigar between his teeth. Something was unsettling about his gaze as I leaned against the side of the table, passing it along as another then another photograph passed through my grasp as I committed their faces to memory. Some of these pictures seemed to have been taken recently, right at Apo’s Nook before it went up in flames. My jaw clenched as the witch in the next photograph was grinning widely as if she was taunting us, and I accidentally passed it to the man next to me a bit too harshly as he gave me a concerned look. I ignored him and took a deep breath, fingers itching to hold onto the plastic bottle hidden between my breasts. The news this morning had been too shocking, and I had no choice but to take two pills instead of one. It wasn’t healthy, but I did force my breakfast down my throat in hopes that it wouldn’t make me feel ill if I doubled the dose.

The next photograph that was passed to me was flipped upside down, and I sighed as I braced myself for another unfamiliar face to commit to memory, except that when I flipped it, my whole body froze, blood going cold. I tried to gulp, but I couldn’t due to the lump in my throat. My lungs contracted, and I desperately tried not to gasp as my fingers dug into the fragile paper and I fought the urge to rip the photograph into shreds. I knew this would happen sooner than later, but I realized how completely unprepared I was for it. The wizard in the photograph was smiling widely, the photo not recent at all, his round eyes turning upwards at the corners, his front teeth on full display. His hair had been freshly cut before the photograph was taken, yet it still fell in his eyes as he failed to style it—he was talented at many things, yet he never quite learned how to tame his wild hair. I could feel my hands start to shake the longer I stared at the face of my first love, my heart beating so fast my ears started to ring. I struggled to breathe and I knew I was turning pale as my lips parted, a quiet gasp leaving through them. It was enough to alert the man sitting next to me as I felt his eyes on me, but my body couldn’t react to anything as I crumbled up the photograph, throwing it far away from myself. I heard my name being called and words that sounded like they were asking if I was alright, but my vision had started turning black from the lack of oxygen. The room was too small, too stuffy, too warm; I couldn’t breathe.

Hands still shaking, I gripped my dress and lifted it above my ankles as I abruptly turned around, eyes settling on the exit desperately as I felt my feet take me up the stairs, running as I extended my hand way before I have reached the door to grab the handle. My heart was in my throat and the ringing in my ears was as loud as a kettle’s whistle, and I yanked the door open with all the force I could muster up due to the tremor of my whole body. The air of the hallway hit me hard, making me gasp loudly as I slammed the door shut behind me, feeling tears prick at my dry eyes as I flung myself forward, hands cushioning my crash as I flew into the wall in front of me, forehead banging against it. I needed it, I needed something painful to shake me out of my borderline psychotic state. I couldn’t take another pill so soon, I really just shouldn’t. I bit my lower lip as I struggled to take deep breaths, the tremors of my body worsening as my hands curled into fists, forcing me to close my eyes. The ringing in my ears had started to subside, but my heart was still beating way too fast and my throat was too dry. I really couldn’t take another pill just yet; however, my right hand was reaching for the bottle without wasting another second as I uncapped it and grabbed two pills out of it, throwing them back as my eyebrows furrowed, struggling to gulp them down at once.

I stood desperately waiting for the downers to kick in, the thumping of my head subsiding as the ringing of my ears went away completely, the tremors of my body remaining, however. I felt my muscles trying to relax, not even having noticed how tense they had become, and I gulped as I turned around to press my back against the wall, groaning as my head fell back. My throat had started hurting, the pills having scrapped it, but I couldn’t care less as my frantic heartbeat had finally started slowing down. I heard the door of the auditorium open, and my eyes opened as I watched my former professor approach me with a concerned look on his face. He held a plastic cup that he extended towards me, and I took it eagerly, downing the cool water as it finally soothed the ache in my throat. I crumpled the plastic in my fist, sighing long as I looked at Professor Dumbledore, wondering what was going through his mind having seen me in such a hysterical state.

“War is harsh,” As if reading my thoughts, his eyes twinkled with that familiar warm glint, “it affects everyone differently. You’ve seen things no woman your age should have, but you are a talented auror, Miss Song. However, I fear you won’t be amongst us for much longer if you continue abusing those.”

I felt shame crawl up my body as the professor’s eyes fell on the bottle, and I quickly hid it behind my back, “I’m sorry.”

I felt like a little child that was being scolded for doing something bad as I averted my gaze away from Professor Dumbledore’s, and sniffed as I noticed my heartbeat had finally returned to its natural rhythm.

“How are your parents doing, Miss Song?” Professor Dumbledore’s voice was soft, and I shrugged looking up at him.

“They are scared, as is everyone else.” I sighed, biting my lower lip, “I have moved them to the Wizarding World in hopes of keeping them safe, but nowhere is safe anymore, Professor.”

“It’s saddening, indeed.” The professor nodded, sharing my feelings of sadness that were slowly turning into despair, “But I think you did the right thing. The Wizarding World might not be the safest place at the moment, but it is a lot safer than the Muggle World.”

It was reassuring to hear the approval of my much wiser and smarter professor, and for a second, I believed that I had done something right for the first time in a long time. No matter how many dark wizards and witches I have captured, I never truly felt accomplished. It wasn’t enough, because I knew I could do better if sent on even more missions, and finally, the chance to fulfill my selfish desires while proving myself to be good and useful to my superiors, had come.

“Are you feeling any better now, Miss Song?” The professor’s eyebrows raised as I quickly hid the bottle back between my breasts and nodded, squaring my shoulders back. There it was, the condescending look of deep thought crossing the professor’s face as he looked towards the ground, humming lowly, “When it comes to the matters of the heart, it’s a slippery and unsure territory, Miss Song. You might think you are prepared to face whoever and take them out, but if you haven’t completely let go of them, your heart will outrule your conscious, your rationality. Even if you have long released the feelings you had once harbored for them, your more rational side might stop you, might hold you back from delivering the final blow.”

I felt tears trying to prick at my eyes as they snapped up, boring into Professor Dumbledore’s as he had a sad smile on his lips, “It’s difficult to forget your first love, Miss Song, no matter how deeply they have wronged you.”

The tremors in my hands haven’t disappeared and wouldn’t go away today, but they halted for a second as I gulped, throat feeling dry again, “He chose his path consciously, as I have chosen mine. Our beliefs have never truly aligned, it was just wishful thinking on my side, Professor. Love, an emotion I do not feel towards him anymore, isn’t stronger than my rational mind. If I would have allowed my heart to lead me throughout my life, I would be by his side now, wallowing in self-misery and pity for all the lives I allowed perish.”

“I have recognized your passion the moment you sat on the stool on the night of the sorting, Miss Song, you’ve known from the very first moment what you wanted and how to get it. I fear I haven’t met a Slytherin as determined and stubborn as yourself, Miss Song—”

“Not even Tom Riddle, sir?”

The professor’s expression suddenly became leveled, warm smile turning into a rather forced one, “I fear I cannot compare you to Tom Riddle, Miss Song.”

I hummed and smiled, memories of the younger boy bashing the professor for even the smallest inconvenience returning. I had never figured out where their distaste came for each other, but as it wasn’t my business, I never prodded more than necessary. I fixed my hair and made sure the little bottle couldn’t be seen as I glanced past the professor, feeling calm enough to join the aurors again, “We should head inside before they deem me unfit for this task, I would hate to miss out on this one, Professor.”

“They cannot afford to lose an auror like you.” Professor Dumbledore chuckled with a thoughtful look on his face as he led us towards the door, opening it for me like the true gentleman he was. I thanked him quietly as I stepped through the threshold, the lump back in my throat as the room went silent at once, everyone turning around to watch me and the professor as we descended the stairs. I went to sit at my initial spot, but Professor Dumbledore gently grabbed my elbow and veered me towards his seat, a witch making a place for me as she had an understanding look on her face.

“Is everything alright, Miss Song?” Theseus asked once the professor and I had taken our seats, the curious eyes of the other Aurors still watching me. I gulped and placed my hands on my knees, trying to hide the tremor behind the desk so that nobody would see it.

“Yes, Mr. Scamander, my apologies for storming out like that.” My voice was leveled as I forced my face to relax, and an easy smile appeared on my lips, “I felt a little ill this morning, I suppose it returned suddenly.”

“Right,” Theseus hummed, a smile matching mine on his lips, “that is reassuring to hear; however, I do wish for a quick recovery should it get worse.”

“Thank you.” I bowed my head as my hands fisted my dress, my heart rate picking up again as I felt the witch next to me gently rub my back. I wasn’t fond of being touched by strangers, but I didn’t have the willpower to ask her to stop. Finally, seemingly content with my half-assed lie, the attention wasn’t on me anymore as everyone went back to conversing with each other. Theseus cleared his throat and walked towards our table, Professor Dumbledore gathering the photographs as they were scattered around on the desk.

“While you were taking a breather, Miss Song, I have informed your colleagues that each one of them will be assigned a dark wizard to survey and consequently take down whenever the Office seems fitting.” I tried to gulp, my throat going dry once again. The witch was still rubbing my back and her touch had started burning my skin through my dress, making me fidget with my hands as I released the grip I had on my dress. I knew this was coming, but I didn’t feel ready. If I could’ve, I would’ve downed the whole bottle of pills, not minding if I would have been the one in need of a funeral.

“I see, Mr. Scamander, who had been assigned to me?” I felt the professor’s eyes take me in carefully as if I were a ticking time bomb, and the hand of the witch was finally away from my body, her sigh too loud as Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Records say you have been peers with Park Seonghwa at Hogwarts, yes?” I failed to inhale air as my lungs contracted, my worst nightmare lay right in front of my eyes and ears, “Professor Dumbledore, could you confirm this for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander, Miss Song and Mr. Park had been my students barely four years ago.” My eyes burned as I blinked them fast, scared that tears would flood them as my hands shook more, itching to grab the bottle even if for little reassurance. The sedatives weren’t working as they should have, I shouldn’t be so wired up and nervous still. I figured I should buy something stronger; the muggles were more lenient when handing out sedatives than the wizards if you knew how to put on your best act.

“Indeed,” My voice was emotionless, and I knew my face was unreadable as Theseus’ eyes narrowed, “I know Park Seonghwa, but just merely. He was a great student I often had to compete with for the first place in our year.”

The longer Theseus’ eyes bore into mine, the more prominent the soft prodding in my forehead became. I knew what he was doing, way too familiar with the feeling of having my mind invaded. He was searching for memories of Seonghwa and me, of anything that could prove I wasn’t lying and that our roots didn’t grow deeper than a surface-level acquittance. It was laughable how easy it was to veer Theseus around my mind, to trick him into seeing only what I wanted him to see. He wasn’t a born Legilimens, I could feel he was less strong than the likes of Tom Riddle, who was a born natural in his talent, and so, I knew Theseus wouldn’t figure out that I—in fact—was a born Occlumens, the will of my mind stronger than his surface-level talent. I watched as a satisfied expression settled on his features upon viewing the images I allowed him to see, like the brief snappy exchanges between Seonghwa and me when we were in class, trying to show off to the professors, or the duels where we loved to flaunt our skills, or the brief acknowledgments in the hallway when we so happened to pass by each other.

“Very well, Miss Song,” Theseus muttered and then slammed a photograph down in front of me, a much younger Seonghwa smiling mockingly at me, “I trust you to do your best and bring him to his downfall. Mr. Park is an important asset to Grindelwald’s army; we need him gone.”

“He shall be gone, then.”

1943

The classroom was full of vigor as everyone pilled inside, rather excited to see what Professor Merrythought had up her sleeve for us today. She had promised a dueling class sooner than later, and, as we happened to be ahead on our curriculum in DADA class, we got permission from Headmaster Dippet to go ahead and transform our usual classroom into a dueling ring. This year, the Slytherins shared most of their classes with the Ravenclaws, the DADA class being one of them. I let my eyes run over the crowd of the gathering 6th-year Ravenclaws on the other side of the classroom, pressed up against the wall much like myself and my housemates. Despite the majority of students being in their 6th year, Professor Merrythought found it essential that all students above the age of fourteen learn how to duel due to the imminent threat looming above our heads, both in the Wizarding and Muggle World. Therefore, it came as no surprise that younger students were ushered inside by Professor Merrythought, who had a grin on her face. Finding the person I had been looking for in the crowd, on the other side of the classroom, a tiny smile made it onto my lips as I found him already looking at me attentively. His dark hair, once again, fell wildly around his head in curls that looked natural, framing his boyish features as his round eyes sparkled with excitement. I chuckled and felt more elated knowing that Seonghwa was here, the chance of getting paired up with him was rather high as we were the top students of our year.

“Miss Song.” I flinched at the sudden intrusive voice in my head, always taken aback when I was addressed telepathically. I looked away from Seonghwa, eyes falling onto the boy—who despite being younger, was a lot taller than me—was now standing next to me with a stoic expression, ice-cold blue eyes boring into my darker ones. I chuckled and pressed a hand against my chest, always impressed by his skills despite his younger age.

“Mr. Riddle.” I greeted back with a grin, the small prodding at my forehead proof that our telepathic connection worked both ways. It was rare that Tom allowed me inside his mind, and even then, he knew how to guide me around his thoughts to show me only what he wanted me to see—a skill he learned from me, rather quickly. He had a natural talent for learning and achieving accomplishments that wizards and witches older than him struggled to garnish. He was an admirable student and a force to reckon with, I was never too eager when he challenged me to a friendly duel under the pretext of gaining experience by dueling a student who was as outstanding as himself—in reality, he only wished to show off and torment me in the confines of the Room of Requirements when the two of us would head over to study.

“Now, children,” Professor Merrythought clapped her hands together as she walked between the parting crowd of students, everyone watching her curiously, “as you may know, Headmaster Dippet had granted us another dueling session, and I am beyond excited to teach you new tricks that may as well save your lives in the future. The rules are the same as always, no serious spells aimed to harm, and no maiming, Madam Gorsemoor has far more important tasks than to heal some children who didn’t take the rules seriously, yes?”

Everyone muttered a ‘yes’ at once, and Professor Merrythought had a pleased grin on her lips as she pulled her wide shoulders back, her golden eyes surveying the crowd, probably counting how many of us were here. Usually, no more than twenty students were allowed inside the classroom as Professor Merrythought wished to watch and help everyone, not just those few she noticed lacking in their skill, “Can someone tell me what we’ve learned in our last class?”

Several hands shoot up high in the air, mine included, and I felt compelled to look over to the Ravenclaws, not surprised at all to see Seonghwa’s arm high up in the air, shoulders pulled back to make him look taller. I stifled a chuckle and faced the front of the classroom again, feeling Tom’s questioning gaze on the back of my head, but I paid him no mind.

“Mr. Lovegood, perhaps?” Professor Merrythought pointed at the platinum blonde-haired wizard from Ravenclaw, who stood on his tiptoes, about to bounce up and down to gain the professor’s attention.

“Diffindo!” He exclaimed, cheeks flushing instantly as the students from his house snickered, the Slytherins remaining uninterested, “I mean, Diffindo and Relashio.”

“Very well, Mr. Lovegood, thank you.” Professor Merrythought hummed, eyes narrowing as she looked over the crowd once again, her eyes stopping on me as I offered her a small smile.

“I must remind you that Diffindo is a spell that brings great harm if not death to your opponent, and inside this classroom, we shall not use it against each other. And even outside of it, I advise you use it wisely and level-headed only if the occurrence calls for it—”

“Like—if it were for Grindelwald to attack us?!” A younger boy—from Ravenclaw—asked, heads turning in his direction as he yet had to grow a few inches.

“Yes, that’s the likely scenario I had in mind.” Professor Merrythought muttered pleased, nodding at the curious boy with big round eyes. He reminded me of Seonghwa when we had just started our journey at Hogwarts, always eager to learn more and curious about how everything around him worked. Since then, his nature remained but he learned how to control it, how to make it less obvious how big of a nerd he actually was. Some would say he tries to impersonate the ‘cool guy’ archetype, but I know him too well to believe those silly ‘rumors’, “Well, before we learn something new, I’d like to see a duel from our best duellists.”

I gulped, feeling eyes bore into the side of my head as I looked over to Seonghwa again, finding his eyes on me already once again. He was smirking, round eyes fierce as we both knew who Professor Merrythought would call to the front for a demonstration, “Miss Song, Mr. Park, would you grace us with your presence?”

I heard Tom chuckle behind me, unamused, no doubt having known we’d be the chosen ones for this task. It was rarely not us, even Seonghwa and I knew it. I patted down the front of my robe, dusting it off, then squared my shoulders as I made my way through the crowd, getting a few pats on the back from people who I was familiar with. I had grabbed my wand out of my pocket, and Seonghwa and I made it to the front of the class at the same time. His smirk had turned cheeky as he held his wand in his hands elegantly, twirling it playfully as I took a few steps backward and then adjusted my stance.

“Miss Song.” Seonghwa’s voice was deep, tone almost seductive, and I couldn’t help but grin and narrow my eyes at him.

“Mr. Park.” My tone was confident and full of assurance because I knew I would win this duel. I usually did. Seonghwa was very good at dueling, but I was better since I was faster and more agile. I was also a little more talented at wandless magic than he was, I found it amusing whenever he’d exercise next to me, growing frustrated with himself way too quickly. Professor Merrythought clapped her hands and stepped back as Seonghwa and I bowed to each other, wands gripped firmly in our hands as we took our stance for the duel. I zeroed in on Seonghwa only, focusing on the movements of his body, eyes boring into his as if I would read his mind—I could, but I knew he hated it, and what I hated more was when I made him hurt. Seonghwa stood alert, his dark eyes boring into mine, a curious glint in them, laced with mischief and anticipation as he was patiently waiting for me to make my first move. He usually wasn’t the one to attack first, and we both knew that. We’ve dueled each other many times already, we knew each other’s tricks and weakest points.

“Stupefy!” I exclaimed, throwing my hand out, my wand pulsing with power as a light blue zap quickly shot towards Seonghwa, who expertly threw up his defense wall, nulling my attack with a pleased expression. I chuckled under my breath and raised an eyebrow as I threw my next attack at him, “Flipendo!”

Seonghwa huffed as another jinx was thrown his way, raising his arm high as he cast another shield in front of his body, eyes narrowing as he realized I was trying to get him to fly to the other side of the classroom. I knew he was wary of injuring himself, and unless I teased him a little bit at the beginning of our duel, I knew he would try to go easy on me. But I didn’t want easy and friendly, I wanted him to have no mercy and fight as if we were in a real fight, against each other, with only one winner standing tall in the end.

“Stupefy!” Seonghwa exclaimed, the same light blue zap flying towards me, making me easily block his attack as I threw my arms up, casting an invisible shield. Unlike Seonghwa’s, mine remained blue and violet ripples the tell-tale sign that there was something in front of me. Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, calculating his next move as I sent a hot air charm his way, which he dodged skilfully, his black hair falling into his eyes. Seonghwa chuckled and twirled the strands behind his ear, graciously raising his hand, not even looking my way as suddenly electric blue flames came barrelling towards my shield, making the students in the classroom gasp in surprise, but also fear. Someone had started clapping hard, and I knew it was Professor Merrythought as she enjoyed the show the most out of everyone.

Seonghwa was smart, and so, he knew the blue flames would demolish my shield without hurting me, and I could hear Professor Merrythought explain just this to the students who watched us with even more excitement in their eyes. Deciding to not verbalize my next spell, I winked at Seonghwa as I made the hand movement that was required for the Waddiwasi spell, Seonghwa realized a moment too late as, suddenly, crumbled up parchments floated around me for a second, before propelling towards Seonghwa with force and speed that left him defenseless. Seonghwa gasped as he turned sideways, the little balls of parchment crashing against the side of his body without causing any damage—physical because his ego was probably bruised—and the students started laughing as Seonghwa hissed, facing me once again with piercing eyes. I grinned and curtsied teasingly, enjoying the way his cheeks had flushed from embarrassment, his grip tightening around his black wand. His lips didn’t move, but his hand did, and I narrowed my eyes as for a second nothing happened, and then I felt invisible ropes binding around my body, trying to immobilize me as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Emancipare!” I yelped the counterattack of Brachiabindo, the defensive spell Seonghwa had used, and felt the ropes instantly disappear from my body. Seonghwa huffed, running his fingers through his rich curls, looking frustrated as he walked a few steps closer. It wasn’t like him to lose his wits when we were dueling, and so, this was the first sign that told me something was bothering him as he couldn’t completely focus on the task at hand. But this was an exercise, a duel in which we had to demonstrate to the other students, so I pushed my worries aside and cast my next spell, “Fulgari!”

Much like Seonghwa’s spell, it was another one that bid your arms together, however, the ropes weren’t invisible anymore but red and thick, painful, as the charm tied your wrists together tightly. But Seonghwa knew how to counterattack it, and the ropes dropped midair as a white light was cast from his wand. Knowing that we didn’t have much time anymore and that Professor Merrythought was waiting for one of us to disarm the other, I acted quickly, “Expelliarmus!”

However, Seonghwa’s simultaneous attack was silent as it shot from his wand, and our spells clashed in the middle, exploding with a loud boom after they’d tangled up for a few seconds. I gasped as the force pushed me backward, almost making me stumble to the floor. The hem of my robe had caught in the heel of my boots, and as I tried to manage the issue, I felt my mind being prodded at. Not even having to concentrate on the action, my mind instantly blocked the intruder out, my mind’s barriers strong and stubborn, no matter how insistent the intruder became. I knew who it was, in this classroom only Tom Riddle was so talented enough to use Legilimens wandless and non-verbally, but he was least of my worries as Seonghwa’s glare was deep, mouth moving before I could register his words, “Relashio!”

I gasped as my wand was snapped out of my hand, clattering to the floor, making the students roar with claps and cheers, Professor Merrythought not even trying to calm them down as she walked towards Seonghwa and me. I gulped, feeling my cheeks tinge pink at the amateur mistake I had made, the fact even more embarrassing as I was disarmed by such a pathetic spell. But this is what a duel encompassed, and I took a deep breath and released it slowly as I felt Professor Merrythought’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me next to her as she had grabbed onto Seonghwa as well.

“Brilliant!” She exclaimed lips pulled into a huge grin, “Simply brilliant, my students! You will make such fine Aurors, the department will be blessed upon your arrival!”

I muttered a quiet thank you and bowed my head abashed, missing the cold look that crossed Seonghwa’s face upon hearing our professor’s words. Then, when the class had finally settled down, Seonghwa and I were ushered back to our previous spots, Professor Merrythought taking the lead as she started explaining the new spell we’d be learning today. I felt the uncomfortable prodding once again, and a little frustrated, I turned around and snapped at Tom without considering my actions first, “Stop it, Riddle!”

My exclamation thankfully wasn’t too loud, but it made a few heads turn our way. I gulped and averted my eyes flustered as Tom grinned, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “My apologies, but I failed to gain your attention any other way.”

“I am trying to pay attention to the new spell, Riddle,” I muttered as I faced the front of the classroom again, feeling the younger boy step closer as he loomed over my shoulders.

“But you already know it,” He muttered, voice devoid of any emotion and I just sighed, nodding and confirming his claim, “Well, then, let me offer you some friendly advice.”

“The Tom Riddle offering me some friendly advice?” I teased, looking over my shoulder with a chuckle, “So you finally admit that we’re friends?”

“Well,” Tom cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, “if you think of us as friends, we shall be that, Y/N.”

Tom hadn’t been keen on addressing each other casually in public, but he’s been calling me by my name rather often lately, “And your advice is?”

“Ah, yes,” He cleared his throat again, leaning just a little bit closer to whisper in my ear, “use more non-verbal spells next time and maybe even wandless magic too, Park seems to struggle to defend those. And, try not to lose focus so easily, getting disarmed by Relashio out of all spells is rather embarrassing, Miss Song.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching Professor Merrythought’s wand as she drew the movement of the spell slowly for us to see, “Thank you for pointing out that Relashio isn’t even a disarming spell.”

It was rare to see any sort of positive reaction from Tom, but he snickered as I felt him take a step back to offer me more space as he was done with the conversation, “Meet me later in the Room of Requirements?”

But apparently, he wasn’t done with the telepathic conversation, “Yes, at the agreed-upon time, I won’t be late this time.”

“You better not be.” Tom’s voice sounded unimpressed in my mind and I rolled my eyes, hoping nobody saw it, “And tell your boyfriend to stop staring daggers at my head, I could disarm and harm him in just a few seconds—”

“Thank you, Tom, that’s enough.” I snapped, never too keen when he tried to bash Seonghwa and his skills—or lack of them as Tom had so often remarked, “And get out of my head, now.”

His chuckle was cut short as I raised the barrier once again, forcing Tom out of my mind. I knew it would be painful to him and I didn’t mind as lately he’s been trying to prod at my mind way too often. But being a born Occlumens came with its perks, no matter how much Tom tried to peek inside my head, he’d only be allowed inside as long as I let him. Having realized that he had some control issues, I didn’t let him know about that little piece of information, for my own peace of mind, really. Feeling like somebody was drilling holes into the side of my head, I looked over to the Ravenclaws, a little taken aback by the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes and the sneer on his lips. He looked irritated, and as we made eye contact his expression hardened for a second before he looked away, ignoring me for the rest of the class. I had only sighed, paying attention to Professor Merrythought for the rest of the class.

Once class was over everyone pilled outside quickly, eager for the short break before our next class would start. Wanting to speak to Seonghwa in private, I stayed back with the hopes that he’d do the same, but when Professor Merrythought noticed me and asked if I had wanted to speak to her, I realized it was just her, myself, and Lovegood in the classroom. I bid her farewell and then scurried outside, sighing long as I felt disappointed that Seonghwa had left without me even noticing it. He was mad at me, that was now certain, and we wouldn’t have the possibility to meet until dinner or our Prefect duties as this was the last class we shared today. I held the strap of my satchel bag tightly as I gnawed on my bottom lip, wondering whether I could use an excuse and search for him between my classes, when suddenly a classroom door was thrown open and I was harshly yanked to the left by my arm. I gasped as I stumbled, failing to keep up with the aggressive tugging, my back hitting a wall rather painfully as my heart had started racing, eyes widening as I felt warm lips pressing against mine. It took me a second to register what was happening.

I was face to face with Seonghwa, who had me pinned between himself and the wall, holding the side of my neck firmly with his right hand as his left one gripped my hip, fingers digging into the fabric of my uniform. His eyes were open and glaring at me despite his heated kiss, and it only made me flush more as I felt his tongue force itself between my lips while his fingers sneaked up towards my jaw, tilting my head up as he had to lean down, just slightly, due to our height difference. My heart hammered against my ribcage as the satchel bag fell from my shoulder, landing with a loud thud as I gripped his robe’s collar, the fabric a lot softer than mine. Seonghwa’s tongue lapped at mine fiercely, stealing my breath away as I felt his hand slip from my hip, trace the inside of my thigh as it slowly slipped underneath my knee-length skirt. I gasped and gently pushed him back, breathing hard as his right hand held my nape, fingernails pressing into my frail skin, “Seonghwa—”

“Did you have fun flirting with Riddle right in front of me?” His tone was harsh, voice raspier than usual, and I gulped, his hand slipping higher up underneath my skirt.

“Seonghwa, I wasn’t flirting with him.” My voice trembled as he leaned closer again, lips tracing the skin of my neck, feather-like, making goosebumps erupt all over my skin. My hands released the collar of his robe as they slipped higher up, circling his neck as my fingers got tangled in the wavy strands of his hair, “I’ve told you so many times that I’m not interested in him—”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it.” I gasped as his sharp teeth sunk into the skin of my neck, making my stomach coil as his other hand stopped at my groin, caressing my flesh through my stockings, “I’m sick of seeing him prance around you like a lost puppy, my love.”

“He’s just a boy.” My eyebrows furrowed as Seonghwa’s head snapped up, a sneer on his face.

“Just a boy?” He scoffed and leaned incredibly close, lips brushing against mine as he spoke, “He’s barely one year younger than us, Y/N.”

Sighing loudly, I pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, seeing his eyes shake for a second, his anger dissipating slightly, “Yet I only see the little boy I guided to the Slytherin common room in his first year in him, my love, he’s nothing but like a brother to me.”

“He has no boundaries.” Seonghwa huffed, jaw clenching and unclenching as I kissed his cheek, right side and then left side, then pulled him slightly lower to kiss his forehead too. Seonghwa’s grip visibly softened, his finger rubbing circles into my hipbone under my skirt.

“I know how to put him in his place if he ever goes too far, which he has never done before.” I muttered reassuringly as I ran my fingers through his hair gently, knowing that he loved the ministration, “Abraxas is touchier than Tom will ever be, yet you make no scene when he’s with me.”

Seonghwa scoffed, gripping my chin as he tilted my head up again, “Because it’s clear he’s not interested in courting you, he’s touchy with everyone.”

I chuckled as I coaxed his lips towards mine, my eyes fluttering closed as Seonghwa’s lips gently, but firmly, pressed against mine, our lips playing a gentle dance as they moved at a calmer pace, following the other’s rhythm as I let Seonghwa take the lead, our lips slotting perfectly against each other. His breath hit my face as he nipped at my bottom lip, enjoying the way my lips chased after his again, capturing his bottom lip between mine as I felt his hand very slowly slip towards my crotch. I keened, pushing him back by the shoulders when he had started rubbing circles against my clothed core, “I need to get to the greenhouse, Hwa, we can’t do this now.”

“You can skip Herbology,” Seonghwa whispered as his lips brushed against my ear, I bit my bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed, “it’s not that important.”

Before I could succumb to the feeling of Seonghwa’s fingers teasing me, I gripped his wrist and pushed his hand away, blinking my eyes open, “I’m not going to skip classes because you want to have sex, Seonghwa. You can wait until tonight.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, round eyes glinting dangerously, “I can?”

“Unless you want to throw another jealous fit over the fact that I’ll be studying with Tom later on.” I mused and pursed my lips as Seonghwa’s expression hardened again. He was so easy to irk, his face hid nothing as I cocked an eyebrow in challenge at him.

“Right,” He muttered, clearing his throat, “You’ll be busy with Riddle this afternoon—”

“I’ll be busy perfecting my Legilimency, yes.” I raised my eyebrows at Seonghwa as he hummed and stepped back, detaching himself fully from me. I licked at my lips and ran my hands through my hair, trying to get rid of any knots that may have formed.

“Find me after you’re done patrolling, then,” Seonghwa adjusted his tie and then patted down his robe, “I won’t be coming to dinner tonight.”

“Something wrong?” I asked with furrowing eyebrows as I leaned down to pick up my satchel bag.

“No, I just need to catch up on some assignments, is all.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t say anything as he caressed my cheek with his warm hand, “I love you.”

I smiled widely, turning my head lightly to press a kiss against his wrist, “I love you too, Hwa.”

Despite the sun trying to shine some light on the dire streets of London, the ever-grey clouds were everlasting, casting a gloomy shadow over the streets and the people that ventured outside. Lately, it seemed to be safer to go out and enjoy the much-needed social interactions, but people were still wary of the imminent threat posing over their heads. You just never knew when the enemy would strike, making you look over your shoulder at any given moment. London wasn’t anymore what it used to be, but reconstructions have started and there seemed to be light at the end of the permeating dark tunnel.

My coffee’s steam reached my nose as I forgot of its existence, my eyes having fallen on two children who had their palms out and were timidly asking for money from the passerby people. My heart broke at the sight of such innocent lives having to suffer so much, unwanted scenarios clouding my mind. They could’ve lost their parents, or maybe they still had them, but the war made them homeless and this is was the best they could do. I hated how most people didn’t even cast a glance at the obviously suffering children, their clothes strewn in places, cheeks dirty with dust. They clung to each other, the boy taller by a head as he clutched the younger girl to his side, pulling her back when a postman paid them no mind as he barrelled down with his bicycle on the pavement. But before my anger could get the best of me, the bell to the small coffee shop chimed, and I looked over, heart settling at the familiarity of the man that was approaching my table. He wasn’t a coffee lover, not when we were mere teenagers, so I had ordered tea instead for him.

“Mr. Kim.” I smiled as I abandoned my cup and pushed my chair back, fighting the wide smile that tried to make it onto my lips. Kim Hongjoong and I haven’t been close during our days at Hogwarts, but due to a person that was present in both of our lives, we had the chance to share some fond memories. Hongjoong had always been a free spirit, unafraid to break rules here and there, trying to break free of the chains society placed on all of us. Even now, his hair was brushed back in an uncharacteristic way, the black ends tinged almost blonde. His clothes didn’t match in colour, his pants burgundy and his shirt a rather atrocious colour of yellow, the grey sweater thrown over it saving the outfit somewhat. His green coat was dark, and due to the colour of his pants, it made him look like a Christmas tree.

“Dear,” Hongjoong chuckled, his hug warm and comforting, arms circling my middle tightly, “are we back to being formal with each other now? Has it been that long since we left Hogwarts?”

I chuckled, arms tightening around him subconsciously as my chin pressed against his shoulder, eyes glazing over with sudden tears that took me off guard. I have missed the faces I have become familiar with at Hogwarts, the place where I was still innocent and in love with life, with the prospect of a bright future. A future that was now my present, neither bright nor innocent. I have never had many friends, keen on keeping to myself, and the life of an Auror made it hard to keep up with others. It was better for them; my field of work had no guarantee of me returning alive. And knowing that two of the people I considered my family, Mingi and Yunho, were first in line in harm’s way, made me prolong my hug with Hongjoong. It felt nice to be in a warm embrace for once.

“Four years and three months, more specifically.” I whispered as I reluctantly let go of Hongjoong, who gripped my bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze before we both claimed our seats at the small round table.

“So, you’ve been counting,” Hongjoong muttered, looking down at his steaming hot tea, “as have I.”

I hummed, feeling a certain sad aura around Hongjoong as he carefully cradled the teacup in his hands, humming to himself as my eyes bore into the side of his head. I was curious of what was running through his mind, but entering it without his consent was a breech of privacy and the break of trust between the two of us. Picking his fragile mind apart would’ve been very easy. Finding what I was looking for would’ve taken only a few seconds and I could be on my merry way in no time, hunting down the man I was tasked to take out, but I was yearning for just a second of normalcy, for a second that could take me back to the past where I was happy, unafraid, in love.

“How is the Auror life, dear?” I smiled at the nickname, Hongjoong being the only person who’s ever addressed me so affectionately—besides my former lover, Seonghwa.

“Dangerous,” I sighed, raising my cup of coffee to take a small sip, “exhausting, and time consuming.”

“I’ve had to treat many Aurors since I’ve started working at St. Mungo’s, and each time I pray I do not come across you, dear.” Hongjoong’s expression was solemn, as if he was trying to repress memories that weren’t kind nor pleasant, “But you seem to be in great health, so I shall not worry so much anymore.”

I chuckled and placed the cup down, fingertips tracing the porcelain in order to keep my hands busy with something, “I’m rather agile, one of the best they have. But sometimes even I worry for my own safety, thank you for thinking of me so often, Hongjoongie.”

He smiled, reaching out to grab my wrist, “Sometimes I feel bad for the way things have ended between us—between the three of us, I mean.”

I gulped, the topic of Seonghwa inevitable anymore. But still, I tried to stall it for a little bit longer, trying to enjoy Hongjoong’s company for a little bit more before the real reason I was here would ruin our nostalgic reunion.

“Don’t fret on the past, Hongjoong, what’s lost is lost.” I gripped his hand with my right one, patting it gently, “How are the other nurses treating you at St. Mungo’s? I’ve heard there’s not many wizards working there.”

“The witches seem to love me,” Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly his cheeks red, “they praise me a lot and always fight on who gets to work with me. I’m treated nicely and they’ve accepted me rather quickly despite being a wizard.”

I gulped, knowing the tumultuous history of the Kim family, “And your parents?”

Hongjoong froze, eyebrows furrowing as he averted his eyes, “My mother is speaking to me again. My father…we know how he feels about me.”

“You’ve always done just fine without them,” I encouraged him, watching curiously as he grabbed my hand and flipped my palm upside down, “and if you need a friendly advice or just an evening spent drinking wine and reminiscing, you know were to find me, Hongjoongie.”

He chuckled, forefinger gingerly tracing the inside of my palm, making me shiver. It’s been long since someone had treated me so tenderly, ever since Yunho and Mingi have been sent onto their mission actually, “Have you cut yourself here?”

“Yes.” I answered surprised, “How did you know?”

“The skin is rougher here,” Hongjoong pressed his finger a little harder against where the cut was healed up, not even a trace of a scar, “Stop by St. Mungo’s when you have a little free time, I have the perfect potion to fix your skin. I’ve got quite the tricks up my sleeve now.”

As our eyes met, a beat of silence passed, then we both burst out in quiet giggles, pressing our hands against our mouths. Memories of all the failed potions made by Hongjoong resurfaced, most of those times Seonghwa or me being his test subjects. There were too few fingers on my hands to count the number of times Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and I had ended up in the Infirmary, on the brink of dying from dangerous toxins found in Hongjoong’s brews. And yet, we continued indulging in his shenanigans as he was too endearing to say ‘no’ to.

“I suppose you’ve stopped poisoning people now, right?” I raised an eyebrow, tone joking as Hongjoong bit his lower lip, cheeks flushing once again.

“No more failed experiments or potions that would send Slughorn up the wall if he were to know about them.” And once again, we started giggling behind our palms as Hongjoong seemed to finally loosen up, making me feel bad that I would soon deter the conversation to a delicate topic. But I didn’t have much time, I had to move fast if I wanted to catch Seonghwa when he least expected it.

“I suppose you meet all sorts of people at the hospital…” I trailed off as I grabbed my cup of coffee yet again and took a long sip, Hongjoong’s lips pursing as he traced the wooden design of the table.

“Yes, quite the personalities.” He mused, eyebrows raised slightly in question as I swallowed the coffee, biting my lower lip in hesitance.

“As a nurse your allegiances do not matter, you must save everyone—”

“That is correct.” Hongjoong’s tone had turned colder, his face losing its warm glow, a mask of indifference now replacing it. I sighed knowing that Hongjoong had probably caught on to where our conversation was headed now.

“I know you still keep in touch with Park Seonghwa.” I lowered my voice so nobody would hear us. Everyone knew who Grindelwald��s men were, I didn’t want to risk the chance of anyone overhearing our conversation, even if the coffee shop was only frequented by muggles. I chose this place for this specific reason, few wizards and witches ventured out into the heart of London, not keen of the life muggles lived here.

Hongjoong had frozen, jaw clenching as his cat-like eyes narrowed at me, “What does that have to do with me being a nurse at St. Mungo’s? Are you accusing me of something, Miss Song?”

I sighed, but I knew the jabbing was inevitable. Hongjoong had been very protective of Seonghwa even before our years at Hogwarts, “I am not accusing you of anything, I was just merely curious on who’s side you stand—”

“I stand on nobody’s side.” Hongjoong snapped, pushing his teacup far away from himself, glaring at it suspiciously. He must be wondering whether I had slipped Veritaserum in it, but I would never do that to him, “I stand on the side of the victims I must save, on the side of justice, and on the side that doesn’t harm but protects instead. Do you fathom there’s a side like that? One that does not harm, but only protects?”

“No.” I whispered, averting my eyes from Hongjoong’s intense gaze, visibly irritated, “We’re trying to do our best, I promise, but I cannot guarantee that innocent folk won’t be harmed in the process of stopping Grindelwald.”

“You’re just doing your job,” Hongjoong’s tone softened, “and so am I, and so is Seonghwa—”

“Seonghwa is killing innocent wizards and witches for a cause that is irrational, for a cause that aims to harm muggles that aren’t at fault for being the way that they are. This isn’t a job!” Hongjoong’s eyes widened as my voice gradually raised, never the type to lose my cool. My heart had started racing and I felt anxiety creeping up my chest, through my throat, making me chew on the inside of my cheeks. I scrapped at my hand, averting my eyes as Hongjoong’s stare became too much, making me feel like he was judging me. Maybe I have misjudged his character, maybe he is on Seonghwa’s side, after all.

“Y/N,” But his voice was soft and I felt his hand grip mine, gently stopping me from scratching my skin until it was raw and red, “I know how hard it was when you found out about Seonghwa’s ambitions and beliefs, and I know you still feel guilty and think you played a part in him becoming like this. But as someone who’s known him since he was a little boy, Seonghwa’s always dreamed of doing big things, of changing our world into the better. You couldn’t have stopped him even if you had known of his plans since early on—”

“Then help me.” I felt choked up as I looked at Hongjoong swiftly, eyes shaking as I gripped his hand. His eyebrows were furrowed and he gulped as my eyes glossed over, his words ringing through my ears. He was right, I have always felt guilty for not noticing the blatant signs of Seonghwa’s true beliefs. He’s never been kind to muggles at Hogwarts, he’s always made snide remarks about them, and he’s mentioned joining a cause one day that purified our Wizarding World. I thought he was simply aspiring to join the Ministry, like many others wanted. Instead, he decided to join the cause of a man who thought wizards were superior to muggles and wished to subdue them, and force them to live in fear for the rest of their lives, “I need to talk to Seonghwa, please tell me where he is. Hongjoongie, you’ll be helping a greater cause than yourself and even myself. I must find him and—”

“You’re an Auror, Y/N.” He cut me off sharply, yanking his hand out of my grip as he shook his head feverishly, “If you find him, then what? Will you interrogate him and lock him up in Azkaban for a few months until he gives in and admits to his mistakes? We both know that’s the last thing Seonghwa will do if he’s ever captured. You’ll kill him—”

“I won’t—”

“You’ll kill him, and I cannot set up my best friend for his death.” He snapped angrily, cheeks red as his eyes were tear-filled, “I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that you sought me out for such a feat. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Song, for even thinking that I would help you out with such an atrocious thing. I love Seonghwa more than anyone, you have deeply wounded me, Miss Song, I have expected more of you.”

“Hongjoong—” Heart breaking as he swiftly stood and left with a last piercing look, I slumped back in my chair and tried not to let the sob break through my lips, cheeks damp from the tears that fell down them. Yes, I have been a fool for seeking out Hongjoong, I knew he’d never give away Seonghwa’s location, but he was my first and last option in trying to find Seonghwa in a way that I could negotiate with him, try to deter him from his cause, save him from a harsh sentence. And I have failed, and now I’ll have to kill the man that I have never stopped loving.

Having lost my appetite for anything, I stood hastily and wore my dark coat, pulling on my gloves to protect my hands from the freezing air. I gathered my purse and clutched it tightly in my hands, storming out of the coffee shop as I felt around for my bonnet inside the purse. The heart of the city was buzzing with people as the hour was nearing noon, the loudness of it all irritating my ears as I tried to walk between the people to the closest Portkey leading to the Wizarding World. But just as I was about to cross the road, I felt a hesitant tug on my coat. Alarmed and ready to defend myself, I whirled around and searched for whoever had touched me, only to find the siblings looking up at me with pleading eyes. Tapping the tears off my cheeks quickly, I opened my purse and crouched down as I fetched the pastries I have bought earlier for breakfast.

“Have this,” I handed them to the little girl, who had a runny nose and whispered a ‘thank you’. I pushed around in search for the little muggle money I still had, and once I found it, I gave it to the boy who looked beyond grateful and even bowed his head in gratitude. Feeling helpless that I couldn’t do more for them, I grabbed the bonnet that I knew I wouldn’t wear again, and placed it onto the little girl’s head. It was big and it fell in her eyes, but she grinned as her brother tried to adjust it for her, making my heart swell, “Take care of each other.”

The two nodded with eyes glistening, and I gulped down the lump that’s formed in my throat and stood tall once again, hurrying away before I felt the overbearing need to break down in the middle of a muggle filled street. I would finish this mission even if I lost my life in the process of it, it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because innocent children and innocent common folk were the one suffering the consequences of these tyrants that ruled over our worlds.

20th of December, 1943

Slughorn’s Christmas parties were catalogued somewhat legendary and, thus, have always been talked about in the hallways of Hogwarts. Those who were invited mentioned it in excited exclamations and those who weren’t in whispers with envious tones. I had been part of the lucky few who got invited, being part of Slughorn’s Slug Club for a good two years now, and I couldn’t have been happier. These parties were perfect for mingling with socialites and people of importance in the Ministry and other fields that piqued your interest. I had been lucky enough to meet a few well-known Aurors tonight, but my utmost luck struck when, despite his drunken state, Professor Slughorn pulled me aside to introduce me Theseus Scamander, the Head of the Auror Office. The professor had rambled on about my abilities and how talented and knowledgeable I was in the Dark Arts, painting me as a very talented duellist to Mr. Scamander. He had been eager to listen to his former professor, giving me knowing glances and a dashing smile. I couldn’t help but blush a little, the Fire Whiskey I had—secretly—drunk with Abraxas getting the best of me. Unable to hide his amused smile anymore, Theseus had excused us with the pretext that we’d head over to the delicious candy bar and serve ourselves with chocolate frogs, to which our professor couldn’t object as, he, himself loved it.

“He’s quite the talker, isn’t he?” Theseus laughed as he gently guided me through the crowd of students and outsiders, his hand holding my gloved elbow. My dress was modest, adorning the emerald green of my house that I wore proudly. The neckline was a sweetheart design, sleeveless, and the upper part of the dress was moulded tightly against my body, a silvery fabric creating the illusion of a belt around my waist. From the waist, it flowed down to my ankles in a simple A-line, highlighting my long legs. I had a thin, sheer, shawl around my shoulders—but I have abandoned that at the dinner table as it had started annoying me—and instead wore my silvery satin gloves that reached just above my elbows.

“He certainly let’s go of himself when alcohol is involved.” I said quietly, earning a chuckle from Theseus as we reached the candy bar. It was hard to choose just one delicacy as the table was littered with at least fifteen types of desserts, and I watched as Theseus grabbed a plate rather eagerly.

“I couldn’t wait for the annual Christmas party back when I was a student here,” Theseus said as he started placing different delicacies on his plate, “the dessert was the best part of the night—apart from the Fire Whiskey.”

He glanced at me briefly and winked cheekily, making me chuckle as I averted my eyes with a shy blush on my cheeks. He chose a rose shaped tart that was filled with marzipan, and it reminded me of Seonghwa as it was his favourite dessert. Wondering where he was—since he had disappeared around half an hour ago—I searched the crowd while Theseus was busy filling his plate.

“Is it you who wants to be an Auror, or are your professors pushing you towards this job?” Theseus’ question earned my attention as I looked back at him, unsuccessful in my mission of finding Seonghwa.

“It is me.” I answered with a smile, fiddling with my fingers nervously, “I hate injustice, and I hate seeing our world get torn apart as Grindelwald is trying to ruin us. I want to help in stopping him, I want to be a figure that others can entrust their lives to. I want to protect the innocent, and I am not scared to sacrifice myself for others. And when he’ll finally be stopped, I will continue dedicating my life to help the right cause.”

Theseus hummed, his eyes softening as they quickly took in my form, a pleased look crossing his features, “You sound quite determined, and you look tough too. I have spoken to Professor Merrythought about any student she deemed fit for the role of an Auror, and I am positive she talked about you for almost an hour, Miss Song.”

I gulped, feeling warmth spread through my chest in happiness that I had been praised so extensively by my professor to a very important and prominent person in the Ministry, “I’ve still got two years until I graduate, but I hope to join you as soon as possible.”

“I cannot wait for that day to come, Miss Song.” Theseus grinned, grabbing the rose dessert, “I can already tell you’ll be great; you sort of remind me of myself, actually.”

“I do?” I asked with a surprised tone, feeling my smile get even bigger.

“Indeed.” Theseus hummed and then took a bite of the rose as I tried to contain my glee, my mouth hurting from smiling so widely. Suddenly, there was a presence next to me, and I felt a hand gently grip my shoulder, the hold familiar but rather cold. I turned my head and was met with Tom’s piercing-blue cold eyes looking down at me impassively.

“Mr. Scamander.” He greeted the Auror with a tight smile on his lips.

“Mr. Riddle.” Theseus was in the middle of chewing his dessert, but he quickly forced it down his throat and shook Tom’s hand.

“Do you mind if I steal Miss Song for a dance?” Tom’s voice was suddenly light, dripping with sweetness as his face morphed into a warm smile, “Have I interrupted an important conversation?”

“I have said what I wanted to Miss Song, if she wishes so, you can steal her for a dance.” Theseus winked, our gazes meeting as suddenly his thoughts flooded my mind. For a powerful Auror like him, it took me off guard to find his mind so defenceless. Perhaps he didn’t see a reason to guard his thoughts in the confines of Hogwarts, and before I could correct him that there was nothing between Tom and myself—as Theseus’ thoughts claimed—I was already whirled around and guided towards the crowded dance floor. The orchestra played a nice tune, slow but not to the point all you could do was step left and right. Tom placed his hand on the middle of my back as he held my hand in his other one, a respectable distance between our bodies as he started leading.

“Any reason you wanted to dance with me?” I asked with narrowed eyes, knowing for a fact that Tom never danced. He hated dancing or standing as close to somebody as we were stood right now.

“Hmm,” He hummed, his tone low and his voice pleasant to the ears as he spoke up again, “you looked like you needed a little saving.”

“Speaking to Mr. Scamander was pleasant,” I shrugged, holding onto Tom’s shoulder tighter as we narrowly avoided a drunken couple, “You could’ve tried to save me when I was talking to Professor Slughorn and the spouses that work at St. Mungo’s, instead. They are weird.”

“They are peculiar people, indeed.” Tom muttered, eyes falling on my face, “But they are incredibly smart and good assets to a team.”

“What team?” I asked confused, eyebrows furrowing. Tom was leading us out of the crowded dance floor, thankfully, more towards the side where we’d have more space and wouldn’t have to avoid every second drunken couple. A platinum blonde hair popped up in the crowd not far from us, and I stifled a laugh as Abraxas tried not to topple over as he was led towards the exit by his date.

“Well,” Tom started, eyebrows lightly furrowing as he mused over his words, like he didn’t know how to formulate his next words. That was unexpected from Tom as he was a good speaker, and an intelligent person, “let’s put it this way. You build an army of people that are magically gifted, but smart too, and you lead them to victory.”

“Why would you need this army?” I asked as I grew even more confused, “Are you talking about Grindelwald?”

“We can take him as an example, yes.” Tom chuckled, a smirk pulling at his lips as our eyes bore into each other’s, making me wonder for a split second if he was hiding something from me, “The people he has on his side aren’t just strong and powerful wizards and witches who excel at magic, they are also intelligent and strategize with him, leading him towards victory—”

“You think Grindelwald will prosper in this war?” I asked, feeling myself irked at such vile thoughts. Grindelwald wouldn’t win, I would become an Auror just to make sure of it.

“No, of course not.” Tom whispered, an easy smile adorning his lips and I felt his fingers gently rub against my knuckles. I sighed and looked away, surveying the crowd in hopes that I would finally find my lover. I missed him, I wanted to be by his side and dance with him, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course.” I chuckled, but my eyes were still searching the crowd as Tom cleared his throat, turning us around so that I was facing the exit now. My eyes stopped on the familiar form of my lover, and my eyebrows furrowed in wonder as I realized Seonghwa was speaking to Rabastan Lestrange and his parents, “Are you?”

“I hate these events, actually, even the Slug Club, but if I wish to remain in the graces of our daft professor, I must—”

“I am really sorry for cutting you off like this, Tom.” I released my hold on Tom and took a step back, eyes hastily falling back on the Slytherin boy, “But I’ve finally found my lover, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Tom’s expression faltered, then returned to being cold as he nodded towards Seonghwa, “I’ll see you around. But, Y/N, did you know Park and Lestrange have been acquittances for quite a while now?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lower lip, wondering if Seonghwa had ever mention Lestrange to me, “Of course, there are no secrets between Seonghwa and I.”

I felt the slight prodding at my mind, but Tom got nowhere near my thoughts as I have carefully guarded them all night. I bowed my head slightly before I walked away from the dance floor, nearing my lover and the Lestrange family with a soft smile on my lips. Rabastan was the first one to notice me, and he loudly cleared his throat, eyes jumping between Seonghwa and my approaching form. Seonghwa stiffened and I tried to mask my confusion as I stood next to my lover, “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Miss…?” Rabastan’s father was a gruff man, scary-looking, and rather unfriendly as his voice was harsh.

“Song, Song Y/N.” I answered and offered him my hand before I greeted his wife, who looked stoic and glared at me viciously. But I remained unphased as I continued smiling.

“Song,” She muttered, eyes narrowing as she shared a glance with her husband, “your parents are quite prominent figures in the Ministry, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” I answered, not keen of talking about my parents. It was always about them, never about me. They’ve made their own reputation already, I wanted to make one for myself.

“Y/N is just as brilliant as her parents, if not more.” Seonghwa mused with a warm tone, lips pulled into a dashing smile as I felt his arm sneak around my middle and gently pull me into his side. My muscles softened as his familiar warmth and cologne embraced my being, making me look up at him with a small grin. Rabastan’s parents exchanged a glance as their son cleared his throat again, looking rather awkward.

“And you make a pair, I assume.” Rabastan’s father quirked an eyebrow, not looking very impressed by the prospect. Before I could answer, Seonghwa hummed lowly and I felt his fingers flex against my hips in a quiet request to remain silent. I bit my bottom lip, but adhered to his request.

“Yes, Miss Song and I had been quite the academic rivals, but I suppose in our fifth year we found common ground and discovered together we are more powerful, our knowledge forever expanding.” Seonghwa’s answer made my eyebrows furrow as I turned my head to look at him with a questioning gaze, but he continued looking at the Lestranges, who seemed pleased with his answer.

“Well, yes, she is a Slytherin like our son,” Rabastan’s mother said with a chuckle that was filled with vice, “but she might take after her parents, after all.”

Fed up with the cryptic conversation, I chuckled and flashed the Rabastans an apologetic smile before I cradled Seonghwa’s cheek in my hand and turned his head to face me, “May we dance? You’ve neglected me the whole night, my love.”

“My apologies,” Seonghwa hummed and kissed my wrist as I let my hand fall from his face, the two of us looking back at the Lestranges, “It was a pleasure talking to you and meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange, I shall see you around—hopefully.”

They nodded wordlessly as Rabastan bid us farewell, and I intertwined my fingers with Seonghwa’s as I led us back to the dance floor, the crowd a little more dispersed now than it has been when I was dancing with Tom. The orchestra now had started playing slow tunes, all the dancing couples swaying gently to the music. I sighed as I felt Seonghwa’s arms slip around my hips to pull me close in, my arms circling his shoulders as our bodies flushed together, my nerves and muscles easing at the familiar press of his body against mine. Seonghwa’s round eyes had a warm glow in them, his cherry-like lips pulled into a soft smile. I chuckled and fought the muscles in my body yearning to press a kiss against his lips, and instead let my eyes travel down to the early Christmas gift I had given him earlier this morning. Seonghwa and I would be going home tomorrow, meaning that we wouldn’t spend the holidays together like last year, when Hongjoong, his best friend, decided to stay at Hogwarts due to his horrible parents and Seonghwa and I decided to stay too, to keep him company. It was one of the best Christmases I have ever had.

My gift was something small, a thin silver chain necklace with a small star pendant hanging on it, representing the way I viewed Seonghwa. He was bright and beautiful, always glimmering in the darkness and guiding me through my hardships, helping me sparkle as bright as him. He was an inspiration and so easily lovable that sometimes I felt like I fell for him over and over again each day.

“I had no idea you knew Rabastan Lestrange?” I raised an eyebrow as Seonghwa sighed, our moves smooth as he twirled us around.

“Barely.” He muttered, dipping his head low, his breath fanning my face, “Did Professor Slughorn introduce you to Theseus Scamander? I saw you talking to him.”

“He did!” I beamed, Seonghwa’s eyes creasing as he smiled back at me, “I am so happy I met him tonight, he said he cannot wait for me to join the Auror’s Office.”

“Is that so?” Seonghwa hummed, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. He didn’t look too eager, but he chuckled upon seeing my reaction, it didn’t sound amused, “With how eager Riddle was to whisk you away for a dance, I figured you couldn’t talk much to Mr. Scamander.”

“Seonghwa,” I sighed, interlacing my fingers around his neck as I tilted my head back, “can we not do this here? Can we just not talk about Tom for one second?”

“How can I not talk about Riddle when he’s openly trying to court my partner—”

“Seonghwa.” I snapped quietly as I didn’t want anyone to overhear our useless argument, “Tom hates every female that breaths around him withing a meter radius, can you please for the love of Merlin stop this nonsense?!”

“I cannot.” He hissed, eyes narrowing as our steps faltered, “You fail to see the issue at hand, Y/N, he hates every female but you. And I cannot stand that—”

“Why are you so jealous when I have never given you a reason to be?” I cut him off, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Because you’re mine and I cannot fathom losing you, I just—”

“Park Seonghwa.” I sighed, cupping his cheeks as I shook my head at him, “You are the love of my life, I have never loved anyone before you and I will never love anyone else but you. I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, and I will never do. You are my star and the reason I live for, and I trust you with my whole being and have given all of myself to you. Sometimes—I just wish you trusted me as much as I trust you. When you act like this, you make me feel guilty and bad, like I don’t deserve your love and you.”

Seonghwa’s bottom lip was between his teeth and he released a long sigh as his hands sneaked back to grip my hips, “Only Merlin know how much I love you, Y/N, how much faith I have in you, and just how much I trust you. It’s this irrational fear that I will lose you if I make a wrong move that makes me act like this. I don’t even care about Riddle—or anyone else—if I have one fear, it’s that of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I might be your star, but a star cannot shine without darkness. I need you, promise me you’ll stay by my side no matter what.”

“I promise to forever stay by your side, Hwa.”

Hongjoong was a good friend to Seonghwa, righteous, and ferociously protective. But even Hongjoong could tell apart right from wrong, unlike Seonghwa. And when I had gotten home after meeting him at the coffee shop, in the haste of searching for my yellow bottle of pills as my hands had started trembling once again, I found a small rolled up paper nestled between the white tablets. Eager to swallow the sedatives, I held the paper carefully, and after downing two tablets, I unrolled the paper, eyebrows furrowing when I realized it was an address to a fancy place in high-end London, where socialites mingled to their hearts wishes—both muggles, wizards, and witches alike. Hongjoong would never help me in taking down his best friend, but he also knew I was offering his best friend the easy way out this time. I would let him flee if he promises to never show himself around Grindelwald—I would do that because it’s Seonghwa. Because I cannot imagine a life without him even if he’s not by my side, just the thought of knowing he’s out there breathing and living keeps me going.

The casino Hongjoong had given me the address of was fancy and elite, only those who had an invite could enter. But I had connections, getting in was the easiest part. And perhaps, feeling nostalgic after having seen Hongjoong, I yearned to see more familiar faces that reminded me of my innocent childhood, familiar faces that could help me forget that I haven’t heard from Mingi and Yunho in a week. They were alive, that much we knew, but we had no idea if they had been discovered or injured, or if they have gone low-key in order to have even fewer chances of compromising their mission. Nonetheless, when I sent an owl to an old-time friend, I did not expect to receive an answer this eager, at least not from this particular person. Having taken my time to tidy up and make myself presentable, I slipped my bottle of pills inside my purse, knowing that there were great chances I would be seeing Seonghwa tonight—that was the whole point of me going to the casino. I was restless all day long and I had probably already taken too many of them, but the tremors of my hands never once stopped, and I could feel my heart race all day long. It was unsettling, but I knew there was nothing more I could do about it but slip the bottle in my purse and pray to Merlin for a successful mission. If I managed to get Seonghwa on my side tonight, much would change—the war would change.

There was a light smog in the air of London as I neared the casino, the evening breeze pleasant for once as the cobblestones were slippery from the previous rain. There was a light drizzle in the air still, but the invisible shield I had casted around myself to protect me from it was doing its job fairly well to keep me dry. My fur coat kept me warm as the nature of my dress was more daring tonight, attention grabbing on purpose. As I neared the entrance of the casino, lit up brightly and bustling with ladies and gentlemen that had bright smiles on their faces, I noticed a tall figure looming to the side in the darker corner of the street. Heartbeat halting, I hurried my steps as I clutched the invitation tighter in my hands, eager to see the man’s face from up-close. It’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other, I didn’t think he’d actually join me tonight. I knew he had his own ambitions, what those were exactly, I couldn’t tell. He’s always been secretive, but he’s made quite the reputation for himself after finishing Hogwarts. He was a young promising man, eager to chase after his desires.

“Miss Song!” His voice had gotten deeper over the years, but remained as velvety as always. My lips pulled into a smile as I was finally close enough to see his face clearly, and I was taken aback by the obvious changes the years have brought to his once youthful face. His eyes were still as bright and blue, perhaps even icier than they used to be, but his cheekbones had become hollower, skin ashier. He looked good, but he looked ghastly.

“Mr. Riddle.” I came to a stop in front of him with a big smile on my face, and was taken aback by the arms that have wrapped around me in a hug. Tom had always hated physical contact, I wondered if the passing of years had changed that, “You’ve changed. A lot.”

“Hopefully in a good way.” He chuckled as he released me, smirking dashingly at me. I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat. I chuckled and shook my head, taking in his even taller, but lanky, form.

“I suppose yes,” I hummed, realizing that there were no traces of the young boy I have once viewed as perhaps my little brother, “You’ve grown taller, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Tom and I chuckled at the same time as he reached out again, squeezing my lower arm, “And you look stronger than ever.”

I hummed and tried to hide the way my tremors only worsened at his words, wanting to tell him that I was on the brink of falling apart every day. I wasn’t strong, I was far from being strong, I just refused to give in to the darkness until I have fulfilled my purpose, then I could finally let go. Give in to whatever madness threatened to pull my thoughts to an everlasting field of blackness, the stars absent from the night sky. Stars that have long abandoned me, left me alone to fend for myself, to figure things out without a guiding light.

“Let’s head inside, I’m beginning to feel cold.” I muttered as Tom hummed, offering his arm for me to take as he confidently waltzed us towards the entrance, the bouncer smiling at us pleasantly as I handed over our invitation. It seems that he already knew Tom, who, it turns out, frequents this casino rather often. The question was on the tip of my tongue, whether he sees Seonghwa here often or not, but I didn’t want to know. It was better not to know. I couldn’t start questioning Tom’s morality right now, I had to stay focused on the task at hand, which was finding Seonghwa and trying to coerce him onto my side.

The place was buzzing with all sorts of people, all seemingly eager to socialize and make lasting connections. The interior of the casino was vast and covered in red and black décor, giving it a sultry but eloquent touch. We had barely walked in when our coats and purses were taken to a garderobe for safe keeping. And before Tom could explain much about the place and the type of events that were held here, we were swarmed by quite a few wizards and witches, all very keen of talking to Tom, of holding his attention for more than five minutes. It seems like that hasn’t changed since Hogwarts.

I remained by his side and smiled, only spoke up when I was addressed to as I was too busy searching the room—the crowd—for the familiar face that I was here in the first place. I had opted to wear a long-sleeved dress as it was still cold outside, the velvet fabric feeling soft against my skin, keeping me perhaps too warm inside the parched room. The neckline of it was a deeper cut, just shy of stopping at the swell of my breasts, and I had decorated my long neck with emeralds that glinted prettily under the light. The dress was long, I had to be careful not to step on it with the heel of my high heels, and it was a poison green, tricky as under the light it glimmered green, however, otherwise it appeared black. I had pulled my hair away from my face and curled the strands, letting them fall free against my back as simple emerald earrings decorated my ears.

I was itching to hold onto something as I tried not to fidget with my hands, preferably to feel the comforting weight of the bottle of pills, but as they were hidden away in my purse, the only reassurance that I wasn’t completely defenceless lay hidden under my long dress, strapped against my shin was my wand. Over the years, I have learned to excel in wandless magic completely, but just knowing that I had my wand on me helped ease my nervous heartbeat. My eyes never stopped surveying the crowd, waiting to spot those round eyes and cherry-red lips.

“Aren’t you the Songs’ daughter, my dear?” I felt a lady gently touch my arm in order to grab my attention, and I averted my eyes from the back of a man who seemed to have a form similar to Seonghwa’s.

“I am.” I answered the older lady with a pleasant smile, trying to seem cordial despite my nerves.

“Oh, you are gorgeous.” She whispered, fingering the velvet sleeve of my dress, lips pursed, “You were a Slytherin, yes?”

“Yes.” I hummed, glancing side ways at Tom, wondering whether he could save me from this stranger, but he was busy speaking to who seemed to be the lady’s husband, “Does that matter?”

“Well, Slytherins are highly regarded in our society, we are prestige, you know?” The old lady smirked, and I gently pulled my hands behind my back, feeling uncomfortable that she wouldn’t stop touching my dress.

“I wouldn’t call ourselves prestige when most from our house turn towards the usage of the Dark Arts in inconvenient and illegal ways.” I grumbled, trying to hide my distaste as the older lady chuckled, eyes narrowing at me.

“So, you seem to share your parents’ beliefs, after all.” I heaved a long sigh, looking at the lady with a pressing glare. It was always about my parents, about sharing their beliefs. I was fed up with hearing that over and over again. What did people expect of me? To follow the ‘path’ of other Slytherins and join dark causes? Why did everyone have prejudices of us? And most of all, why did everyone assume all Slytherins were evil and would turn against what was right to do?

“My parents are mighty people and proud of their legacy.” My voice was harsh as I squared my shoulders back, the older lady’s eyes slightly widened, “My mother was a Hufflepuff and she raised me with compassion and fierce love that taught me how to differentiate wrong from right. My father was a Ravenclaw that is beyond wise his years and values knowledge above anything else, he taught me that there is no reason to live if you don’t learn constantly, if you don’t find a passion that you excel in. Excuse me if I find no joy in slaying those innocents around me, if I don’t enjoy tea parties organized to discuss who would and who wouldn’t live another day. You, and everyone else, should know basic human decency and stop playing the Gods you’ll never be. I am Slytherin proud of my heritage, and Merlin be damned if I let another one look down on me because of my parents, who have achieved things far beyond your capability in this fragile life that we live. So, if you happen to have a problem with me, or the fact that I am a Song, please, speak to be bluntly and not in riddles.”

The older lady’s mouth hung open in shock, and we have earned the attention of Tom and the man he was talking to, the two looking just as taken aback as the lady. Well, Tom didn’t look that much surprised, his frown told me of his distaste towards my words, and the swift glare sent my way signalled to me to shut up. But I didn’t want to, my nerves were on a high and if one more person mentions my parents and the fact that I am the ‘Songs’ daughter’, I shall repeat my speech proud and loud for the whole room to hear. It wasn’t hard to guess that it was infested with Grindelwald’s people, and my stomach churned as I felt Tom’s fingers sneak around my wrist, holding it so firmly I almost winced in pain.

“She’s opiniated.” Is what the old man said at last, eyes narrowed as he pulled his wife closer into his side, “Is this who you’ve looked up to at Hogwarts? The woman you’ve mentioned before?”

My breath stilled as I looked at Tom confused, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as I tried to untangle his fingers from my wrist but he wasn’t letting go. Was Seonghwa right all along? Was Tom trying to veer me away from Seonghwa while we were at Hogwarts? Had I been actually blind to Tom’s advances? But that mustn’t have been possible, I’ve heard Tom say multiple times that he wasn’t capable of feeling love for anyone, nor was he interested in maintaining any relationships, not even friendships.

“I apologize for her harsh words,” Tom bowed his head humbly, making my eyebrows furrow, “in her field of work she must be blunt and unfiltered, sometimes that slips into her everyday life too.”

I grit my teeth, but remained silent as the older man chuckled, eyes twinkling as he took me in. My face was a mask of impassiveness despite the urge to jinx both him and his wife. Deciding that I didn’t want to partake in this wretched conversation anymore, I turned my head and allowed my eyes to survey the crowd again. I heard Tom’s voice, but I paid no mind to what words were said. I knew the older couple walked away with a laugh on their lips, and I felt Tom’s eyes piercing the side of my head, but I was frozen. My tremors returned in the worst way, making my arms tremble as I tried to gulp but my throat felt dry, eyes glassing over the longer I looked at the familiar, yet so foreign face of my once lover. He was far from us, in the heart of the crowd as he tipped his head back, lips pulled into a charming smile as he laughed. The sound was swallowed by the cacophony created by the conversing people and the playing orchestra, yet I could hear its warm timbre as if he were right next to me.

He had also changed, became less boyish looking and turned sharper in angles he didn’t have before. His jaw was sharp and his nose tall, his round eyes void of the softness I was so used to receiving from him. His cheekbones were more defined than before, his cheeks having lost the baby fat I so loved pinching, and his black hair was longer than I have ever seen it before, framing his face, falling onto his forehead as his bangs were styled carefully. Gone were his wild curls that he always struggled to keep in one place. Park Seonghwa has changed since the last time I’ve seen him, and I was afraid I couldn’t recognize him anymore. Had Grindelwald stolen away even the last remnants of my lover?

“I can’t breathe.” I croaked out as I held onto my middle, my muscles so tense I was in pain as I tried not to double over and empty the contents of my stomach. I needed my pills, I had to take them before I would cause a scene. Suddenly, as Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes turned sharp, vigilante, and found mine, Tom obscured my view of him, eyebrows furrowed in concern, yet I couldn’t actually see the concern in his eyes, or on his face.

“Let’s head over to the bar,” He said quietly, grabbing my hand and stopping the absent-minded scratching I had started doing, “water will do you good.”

I hummed, unable to will my legs to move, and felt thankful when Tom gently coerced me towards the bar, nestling my arm in his as he pulled me into his side, his cologne foreign. There was nothing comforting about his presence, unlike how Hongjoong’s had been, and I struggled to regulate my breathing and frantic heartbeats, telling myself that I was here on a mission and that I had to place aside any feelings I felt towards Seonghwa. I couldn’t compromise my mission this way, I was here to offer Seonghwa a way out. If I wasn’t able to keep it together for just one night, then why was I even here?

Too wrapped up in my mind, I didn’t hear Tom speak to the bartender, nor did I see the glass of water that was placed in front of me until Tom poked my trembling hands and pushed the glass towards me. I quickly took it and gulped down the cool water in a few sips, thankful that the ache in my throat was finally soothed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I placed the glass back onto the surface of the bar, willing my muscles to loosen up as I licked my lips, Tom’s pressing stare becoming irritating. I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes, glancing over to Tom, voice raspy as I spoke up, “Thank you.”

“I’m here for you.” Tom muttered, grabbing my hand and making the hairs stand on my arms as I didn’t want to be touched. But I said nothing as I gulped and nodded once, focusing on my trembling hands as I knew Tom had noticed them, his eyes straying towards them. If only I could fetch my purse to take just one pill, it would help a lot right now. I sighed and had started pulling my hand away from Tom’s just as a person appeared right next to Tom, lean body leaning against the bar as his eyes were cold, narrow, and piercing.

“Good evening.” He spoke up upon making eye contact with me, and I forgot how to breathe all over again, “Miss Song, Mr. Riddle.”

“Mr. Park.” My voice was a mere whisper as our eyes bore into each other, mine desperately searching for a semblance of the man I used to love. But it was gone, innocence and youth long ripped from him, now only a shell of the dorky and geeky boy that used to recite poems to me that he found in muggle books. It broke my heart; it made me mad—it made my hands tremble even worse.

“Oh, and who are these?” A very thick accented female voice spoke up, her dark red lips pulled into a pleasant and friendly smile as her eyes rivalled Tom’s blueness. I gulped, eyes straying from her onto Seonghwa as he looked down at her, his expression softening as he placed an arm around her middle. I didn’t allow myself to feel anything upon seeing that as my eyes snapped back up to Seonghwa’s face, waiting for his next move.

“Old acquittances from Hogwarts.” He said easily, flashing the woman a quick fake smile, “This is Rhaena, she went to Beauxbatons.”

“Pleased to meet you!” Her French accent was irritating as she extended her hand to shake, eyes stalling on Tom for a second too long. I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying to reign in my scowl as Tom elegantly pressed a kiss against her knuckles, smirking at her with a charming gaze.

“My name is Song Y/N.” I introduced myself confidently once it was my turn to shake her hand, my handshake firm and perhaps too strong as Rhaena winced while my eyes landed on Seonghwa, my own lips pulling into an unamused smirk, “I must admit being introduced as mere acquittances leaves me with a distaste I didn’t think I’d harbour towards you, Mr. Park.”

Tom laughed loudly, watching Seonghwa with a challenging look as Rhaena turned and looked back at him with a quirk to her eyebrow, “My memories must be murky, my apologies, it’s been long since we’ve last seen each other, Miss Song. But I see you continue entertaining your old admirers—”

“Admirer is a strong word,” Tom cut him off with a chuckle, but it was far from being friendly as he glared at Seonghwa, “I merely admire Miss Song’s working etiquette, always have, ever since our time at Hogwarts, I suppose. Is it such a crime to look up to a strong, ambitious, and independent woman?”

I could see the spark of interest in Rhaena’s eyes the longer Tom talked, and it irked me. If she was with Seonghwa, why was she so openly interested in other men? Did Seonghwa not see? Did he not care? Seonghwa deserved better than a woman who couldn’t remain loyal to him.

“Ambitious with foolish ideas—” Before Seonghwa could finish his jab and break my heart more than it was already, Rhaena interjected, smiling widely at Tom. I knew he wasn’t interested in her, but it was scary how well he played his act of looking interested in the eager woman.

“I have always loved a man who is able to recognize the power his partner holds and worship her like a queen.” Rhaena’s lips pulled into a suggestive smirk as she licked her lips, eyes raking over Tom’s body, making me feel uncomfortable as I eyed the two. Tom chuckled under his breath but I noticed the way his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“You’re too daring for me, Miss Rhaena.” Tom settled with saying, making the French woman pout as she suddenly pressed herself to Seonghwa’s side, who was glaring at Tom’s blatant rejection.

“And Miss Song isn’t?” Seonghwa’s lips pulled into a vicious smile, face contorting into something sinister as he continued with an air of insignificance, “After all, Aurors take great pride in their work and never place anyone above themselves.”

“Miss Song knows the distinction between her personal life and her work.” Tom snapped back, grabbing the sleeve of my dress when I started shuffling on my feet, feeling uncomfortable by the exchange. I felt a little prodding in my mind and as I glanced at Tom, he was already looking at me with a frown. I nonverbally reassured him that I was okay, and finally admitted to him that I was here on a mission. He understood quickly and didn’t ask questions, only stated that he’d help me with whatever.

“So, you two are married, then? Rhaena kept on antagonizing us as our telepathic conversation was broken, and my eyebrows furrowed as I scoffed.

“Tom is an old friend that I have always been fond of, are you married to Seonghwa?” Perhaps my tone was too snappy, perhaps my words gave away too much. I gulped, realizing that my emotions were getting the best of me, making me ponder again whether I should just go ask for my purse to take another pill. Things were going horribly; this isn’t what I had planned for the night.

“No.” It was Seonghwa who answered, voice deep and laced with anger, “What are you doing here, Miss Song? I haven’t seen you at the casino before.”

“I’m here to accompany Tom as he’s told me he’s been feeling rather lonely on his visits to the casino.” I plastered on a fake smile, levelling my voice so that they wouldn’t be able to tell that I was lying. Even Tom seemed to be surprised as he hummed next to me in confirmation of said lie, tilting his head as he looked at Seonghwa challengingly, “It’s a nice break from my work that you seem to know so much of, Mr. Park.”

But Rhaena seemed to be stuck on a different part of the conversation, “Mr. Riddle, would you like to be my first dance partner of the night?”

I stiffened as Tom chuckled, giving me a quick glance before he nodded and extended his hand for Rhaena to take. She batted her eyelashes at him and pursed her lips as she waved at Seonghwa, walking off with Tom towards the dance floor. I gulped, eyes stuck onto them as I subconsciously started rubbing my left hand, nails digging into my skin painfully, scratching the skin as it left marks. My heart had started hammering against my chest, and I couldn’t face Seonghwa as I felt his piercing gaze bore into the side of my head. I knew why I was here; I knew what I wanted to say to him, but his hostile attitude wasn’t something I had expected, and now I felt like I needed to rethink and reformulate everything I had wanted to say to him.

Jumping at the sudden warm touch against my hand, I faced Seonghwa with wide eyes as he squeezed my fingers, stopping me from scratching my skin up more. My eyebrows furrowed as my hand tingled, leaving my throat dry once again as Seonghwa’s expression was blank, his round eyes having lost their beautiful and warm glimmer.

“Will you dance with me?” His voice was quiet, tone almost dejected, and I gulped as I nodded wordlessly. He didn’t release my hand, instead, he intertwined his fingers with mine as he led the way towards the dancing crowd, making my insides churn at the familiar feel of his larger palm pressing against my small one.

For a second, I felt like a teenager back at Hogwarts, dancing with Seonghwa under the moonlight to a melody that he so often hummed. But the bodies that nearly collided into mine did a good job of helping me repress the memory to stay level-headed, and instead, I straightened my back and finally remembered what I was taught when I was training to become an Auror. The mission was my number one priority now, and so, I repressed all emotions and slipped a neutral expression onto my face as Seonghwa stopped in the middle of the crowd and turned around to face me. He raised our intertwined hands and yanked me towards himself, taking me off guard as I stumbled into his body. He swiftly grabbed onto my hip and I steadied myself as I held onto his shoulder, turning my head away to gaze over it as Seonghwa’s eyes landed on my face. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, skin burning everywhere it touched Seonghwa’s.

It felt familiar being in his hold, warm and comforting, yet his body was tense and on-alert. Seonghwa was a smart man, he knew if I was here, other Aurors might be too, he was on the look-out in case he needed to flee. My body was tense too, but for different reasons. I was trying not to give in to the yearning of my consciousness after the warm body that I knew so well, the embrace that made me feel like the luckiest person on the planet, the lips that ignited my skin on fire wherever they touched. I have missed Seonghwa so much that sometimes I wondered if my impeding madness was imposed upon me by our separation.

“It’s unexpected seeing you here.” Seonghwa muttered carefully, voice void of the previous hostility. I gulped and nodded, having to agree with him.

“I was curious of this place.” That wasn’t a total lie, and Seonghwa could tell. I felt his finger graze against my knuckles, gently rubbing them, but I ignored it for my peace of mind—which I was already struggling with.

“And how do you like it?”

“It’s too pompous, fake, prestigious.”

“People are here to make beneficial connections, of course it’s fake.” Seonghwa’s voice had dropped low so that nobody but me would hear him. I hummed, licking my lips as I felt him pull me more into himself as we danced around in a small circle, his familiar cologne making my head spin. Even after all these years, he looked and felt like the Seonghwa I once fell in love with.

“Your hair is long now.” I had no idea why I said that but I couldn’t take it back now, and Seonghwa’s steps stuttered for a second, making me step on my dress.

“I’ve always liked it better like this,” He said once he cleared his throat, “I kept it short because my parents didn’t like it.”

“I know.” I whispered and closed my eyes, giving in to my body’s cravings as I felt Seonghwa’s hand slip lower, press firmly against my lower back as our bodies flushed together, making me let out a stuttered breath.

“And your parents, are they well?” I felt bile rise up in my throat upon the question that left his mouth. He knew about them, of course he did, it was his people who sent them into hiding. My parents had played an enormous part in discovering the identity of Grindelwald’s men and their hideout. Of course, they were being hunted by Grindelwald now. I wasn’t safe either, but I was an Auror now, a talented one, Grindelwald wouldn’t waste his time on somebody who could very well defend themselves against him and his army. At least, not yet. I’m sure my time will come too.

“You’re being a hypocrite right now, Seonghwa.” I snapped, hearing him heave a sigh.

“They’ve always been kind to me, I do not wish mal-intent towards them—”

“And towards others?” I snapped, eyebrows furrowed as I pulled my head back to be able to look him in the eyes, “Towards all the innocent lives Grindelwald has taken—you have taken?!”

Seonghwa gulped, jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed, “There’s nothing innocent about being oppressed and having to hide our true nature while those mudbloods continue living their lives carefree and in peace.”

“Mudbloods.” I whispered, shaking my head in disappointment at Seonghwa, “You’re a half-blood, Seonghwa—”

“Enough.” Seonghwa snapped, his grip on my hand turning just a little painful, “I do not want to hear whatever you have to say—”

“Well, that is hilarious, Seonghwa.” I chuckled humourless, eyes narrowing at him in annoyance, “You cannot silence me, you cannot tell me what to do.”

“I can silence you,” He gulped, eyebrows furrowing, “for forever, if I want to.”

I froze, feeling a chill run down my spine, and then I just chuckled. I raised my eyebrows at him, looking him in the eyes challengingly, “Like you’ve silenced all those unassuming folk living in those village you burned to a crisp?!”

Seonghwa’s face contorted in anger, his round eyes narrowing as they stared me down fiercely, a dangerous glint in them, “What had to be done was done. They refused to join our cause.”

“A cause that is wrong and harms others, Seonghwa.” My voice raised slightly as I had lost my patience, our faces leaning in close as we both breathed through our noses harshly, glaring down each other, “You’ve done so many atrocities that you’re afraid to face the repercussions, isn’t it? It’s still not late, Seonghwa, if you come with me tonight, I can make things less painful for you. I can convince the officials to lessen your sentence, I can make them reason with you. If you say you regret everything you’ve done and that you will strive to fix your mistake, they will—”

“I will never do that.” Seonghwa hissed and I felt his breath fan my face, “I stand by what I believe in, I stand by what I have done, Y/N. You are on the wrong side, and you all will pay.”

Body shaking from both anger and anxiety, I tried to inhale deeply and exhale, but my throat felt restricted, and the longer I remained in Seonghwa’s arms the more choked up I would feel. I needed to get away, to get away from the man that didn’t resemble my once lover. This wasn’t the Seonghwa I had fallen in love with, this was—a monster standing in front of me. I bit my lower lip, feeling them tremble as I tried to supress the desperate need to cry, I wouldn’t do it. Not here, not in front of him, not ever again. I have cried enough because of him.

Feeling unsafe and cold in his arms, I tried to detach myself from Seonghwa, but his hold only tightened as his eyebrows further furrowed, looking like he was fighting with himself, a turmoil going on inside his mind. My blood froze over when my eyes slipped from his face, falling onto the necklace that sat against his black shirt, sparkling underneath the dim lights. It was the star necklace I had gifted him. Shaking my head, I looked back up in his eyes, grabbing onto the collar of his vest as Seonghwa’s arms held me in a firm embrace, fingers pressing painfully so into my lower back, “Seonghwa.”

And when his eyes shook, I knew he had lost control over himself, over his emotions, over his mind. I felt my eyes fill with tears for breaking even the little trust that’s remained between the two of us as our eyes bled into each other, making it easy for me to push through his fragile mind’s barriers. It was frightening how dark his thoughts were, revolving around murder and strategies of taking down even more people, of converting even more wizards and witches for their ‘greater’ cause. It was terrifying how good of a manipulator Grindelwald was, the fatherly look in his eyes when he looked at Seonghwa, the praises that left his mouth addicting—the complete opposite of Seonghwa’s muggle father who would never understand our world. I felt a small resistance trying to build itself back up in his mind, but I was stronger—Tom’s lessons at Hogwarts had paid off, the Auror training only making my acquired skills stronger—and so, I pushed forward, searching for anything that would be of use for future purposes.

In my search, I stumbled past sleepless nights spent staring up at the ceiling, of tear-filled eyes and salty cheeks as a familiar man cradled Seonghwa to his chest, shushing him and reassuring him of a bright ending. I heard broken whispers of my name as he’d wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare, of lustful touches that were turned down in a haste at last, and ear-piercing shouts that sent everything tumbling to the ground, shattering. And then, painfilled screams and pleas for mercy, people on their knees crying, mothers cradling their children to their chests as their houses burned down and—a piece of parchment that would’ve been blank if it wasn’t for the name of the town scribbled down on it, Grindelwald’s harsh voice commanding my once lover to make everyone perish, nobody spared. He didn’t need anyone on his side from that village, he wanted revenge. Revenge on my parents and on everyone who’s ever tried to mislead him and take him down. Mingi. Yunho.

Seonghwa and I gasped loudly as he finally managed to push me out of his mind, not that I wanted to see anything beyond this. I have seen everything I needed. I had to alert the aurors of the attack Grindelwald had planned on our hideout. My heart raced in fear for my loved ones, and suddenly, I became aware of the hands holding my arms painfully, making me hiss out in pain as I looked up at Seonghwa’s face, feeling my heart still as his eyes were filled with tears, shaking, mouth agape as he looked speechless. I knew he’d hate me for invading his mind without permission, but I had to do it. Our trust in each other has been long broken; I was doing this for the greater good. Seonghwa wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t have to. Despite being a monster, he did something good, he contributed to saving hundreds of lives by weakening his mental barrier.

“You-you—” His voice was shaky as his eyebrows furrowed, body starting to shake from anger, “how could you?!”

“You made me do this, Seonghwa.” I gulped, jumping when he grabbed my nape painfully so, yanking our heads so close to each other that our lips brushed together. I felt my knees grow weak, it would be so easy to press my lips against his now, to feel the soft and plush skin against mine, to devour him and taste him. He’s always felt like home, but would he still feel like it? “You gave me no choice, Seonghwa.”

He scoffed, sneering at me as I whimpered when his fingernails dug into the sensitive skin of my neck, “You’re a monster, they’ve turned you into a monster.”

“As they have with you.” I whispered, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying, to keep myself from surrendering to Seonghwa completely. Seonghwa huffed, looking like he couldn’t believe what I have just said, eyes falling onto my lips as I tilted my head back, hands smoothing against his chest as my fingers ached from griping onto his vest so tightly. And my eyelashes threatened to flutter closed when Seonghwa angled his head just a little lower, his plump lips slotted perfectly against mine if one of us were to just tip our heads even the slightest forward.

But we were monsters to each other, the bogeyman of each other’s stories.

1943

I was close to finishing my patrolling duties, the Astronomy Tower my last stop before I could head back to the Slytherin common room and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Our examinations for the end of the year were nearing, more notedly, we only had one more week to catch up on every lesson before we’d be subjected to the long week of finals. It was stressful and I barely had any time for anything besides studying, so, much like others, I was cooped up in the library, scribbling down any necessary information that I might’ve missed during classes. Seonghwa and I only met up when we’d have breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining hall—unless one of us decided to skip due to not having studied enough that day. But that was alright, we both valued our studies and grades above all and, besides, we left little messages for each other in hidden places that we knew the other would patrol in the evenings after curfew.

The steps to the Astronomy Tower were steep and made of thick concrete, I pressed my palm against the stone wall for guidance and to feel safer as I was headed up to the tower. I had a slight fear of heights, which wasn’t too handy when I had to fly on a broom, hence why I never even considered playing Quidditch despite finding it cool and entertaining. Hongjoong could’ve probably brewed me a potion that made my fear halt but then again, I don’t know how smart it would have been to trust Hongjoong with even the simplest potions. He loved experimenting, and I had been on the receiving end of his failed brews one too many times. I am sure Madam Gorsemoor, herself, will banish me from this school if I turn up with an aching tummy to her Infirmary one more time.

I was panting by the time I reached the top of the stairs, all I had to do was round the corner and peek around it, then I could bolt back down to the Slytherin dormitories. However, just as I was about to do that, I heard hushed voices echoing around the stone walls. I couldn’t tell exactly what was being said as the voices were low, nonetheless, I did have to interrupt whatever was going on as I was a Prefect—I would even need to deduct house points if these were students and not professors. Squaring my shoulders and straightening my back to look more menacing than I actually was—with hopes of scaring off the students—I power-walked around the corner, only to freeze in the next second. Seonghwa stood leaning against the railing of the terrace, the wind howling loudly without the walls protecting us, and he was speaking to Rabastan Lestrange. My eyebrows furrowed as I noticed another figure sitting down, feet dangling over the ledge as he was leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the bright starry night sky, Hongjoong.

I didn’t understand what was happening, and I gulped as I carefully hid back around the corner, grateful that the three boys hadn’t noticed me. I peeked my head around the stone wall, still, and cast a wandless eavesdropping spell, Seonghwa and Rabastan’s voices suddenly tangible to my ears.

“So, what you’re saying is that your parents got everything ready for us?” Seonghwa’s usually warm voice lacked emotion now, and I could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

“Yes, all we have to do is give them the go.” Rabastan’s voice was harsh much like his father’s, and my eyebrows furrowed even more as I felt more confused than ever. What was this about and how did Seonghwa know Rabastan? What even was the purpose of this meeting after curfew? Was it worth it for Rabastan and Hongjoong to get caught and have house points reduced?

“But are you certain we’ve got enough people on the inside?” Seonghwa pressed on, sounding stressed, “Out of twenty-five people I have talked to, only ten wanted to join the cause.”

“Is he one of them?” Rabastan scoffed, tilting his head in Hongjoong’s direction as he remained ignorant of the two. I chewed on my bottom lip as Seonghwa glanced back at his best friend then shook his head slightly.

“Don’t worry about him,” Seonghwa muttered and Hongjoong gave him a lopsided smirk and a wink. Rabastan looked disgusted as he averted his eyes, glaring at Seonghwa now.

“If Grindelwald arrives and marches inside the school, we need to have enough students on his side to defend against the other fools, Park.” Rabastan hissed and my eyes widened, a tiny gasp slipping past my lips in shock, “He’s been planning this for way too long for you to mess it up—”

“And I have been planning alongside him just as much, Lestrange.” Seonghwa leered as he got all up in Rabastan’s face, his face contorted in anger. I had never seen Seonghwa look like that, I couldn’t believe this was real, that my Seonghwa was saying such things. What did he mean he’s been planning alongside him—alongside Grindelwald?! Was Seonghwa doing bad things behind my back? There had to be an explanation to all of this, this can only be a sick joke. Before I could react, Hongjoong tipped his head back, looking rather bored until we made eye contact. His eyes widened instantly and his mouth fell open as he struggled to scramble up as I shook my head at him ‘no’, but it was already too late.

“Seonghwa!” He hissed, and I watched as my lover looked over to his best friend with an irked expression on his face until he followed Hongjoong’s line of sight, our eyes meeting. I gasped, my heart racing in my chest as I whirled around and took off running, waving off the spell I had cast. I held onto the railing tightly as I tried to make my way fast down the stairs, struggling not to stumble and accidentally fall as I heard hurried footsteps echo behind me, laboured breaths leaving the person’s mouth. I didn’t dare look back to see who was following after me, but if they weren’t casting jinxes my way it meant that I was somewhat safe. At least as long as they didn’t reach the end of the staircase. The winding stairs seemed to suddenly never end as the wind howled in the distance the closer I got to the bottom, to the wooden door that was ajar as I had left it like that, the key to the door sitting in my pocket.

My lungs heaved for air as I finally reached the last stone step, letting go of the railing as I ran for the wooden door, screaming in fright when I felt a hand wrap around my bicep and yank me back before I could leave. I was whirled around and pushed against the door as I frantically tried to fight off the hands gripping my arms now.

“Y/N, it’s me.” The breathy voice was gentle, “My love, it’s Seonghwa.”

But that wasn’t comforting to hear anymore as my head snapped up, wide eyes staring at Seonghwa’s worried face. I gulped and gripped his forearms, pulling him closer towards me as our chests rose and fell quickly, “Explain.”

Seonghwa’s face blanched, skin paling as he gulped, his grip softening against my biceps, “I—what you heard isn’t—my love, let’s stay level-headed—”

“Is it true?” I snapped, jaw clenching as I couldn’t stand to hear him stutter, “What Lestrange has said, is it true, Seonghwa?!”

“Calm down first—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I screamed and fought his grip off, pushing him away from me. My hands had started trembling as I stared at him with disgust, trying to make sense of everything, “It is true?! Are you on-on Grindelwald’s side?!”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa froze, his expression suddenly faltering as he looked past me, at the wooden door, “Yes—Yes, I am.”

I felt my heart clench as tears flooded my eyes in an instant, and I was gripping Seonghwa’s shirt in a flash, yanking him down to be eye-level with me, “Tell me you’re lying. Look me in the eyes.”

Seonghwa’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he licked his lips, struggling to take a long breath as his eyes fell on my face, searching for something that he didn’t find as suddenly he looked resigned, “It’s not a lie, my love, I have chosen to support Grindelwald’s cause. We’ve been forced to suffer for too long, shunned into hiding while those creatures do as they please, while they live the lives we are supposed to live.”

I shuddered at his words and released him as if he had burned me, hugging my arms around my middle as I bit my bottom lip, a few tears having escaped my eyes, “You were there. At Lucy’s funeral, you were there, Seonghwa. She died because of Grindelwald. Her entire family—eradicated, burned down, because she was an innocent Muggle.”

Seonghwa’s eyes were filled with tears too as I had started crying now, hands shaking even more as I tried to wipe my cheeks dry, but the tears just kept flowing, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!” I snapped, voice shaking from the betrayal I was feeling, from anger, and from feeling like my heart’s been ripped out, “How could you look me in the eyes every single day, touch me, when you’ve been going behind my back and plotting such atrocious thing, Seonghwa?!”

“I wanted to tell you but you—you—” I took a step back as Seonghwa tried to reach out for me, watching the hurt expression on his face due to my rejection, “I knew you’d react like this; I just couldn’t tell you. You’d—ruin our plans.”

It felt like a punch to the gut hearing the love of my life say those things and I laughed, body shaking in despair and pain that this is the side my lover had chosen. The man I thought I would marry one day, give children to, grow old with. Yet here he stood in front of me, with tears streaming down his face—an abomination, just a mere shell of what he used to be, “Your father is a muggle, Hwa.”

His jaw clenched and he swiftly wiped his tears off his cheeks, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, “And he’s never been good to me.”

I gulped as I closed my eyes and willed my muscles to ease up a bit so that I could move again. I brushed my hair back as I blinked my eyes open, a little blurry from the tears that still threatened to spill out, but I sucked it up and nodded, ignoring my heart that was crying out for my mind to stop, not to say the words that would leave my lips soon, “Goodbye, Mr. Park.”

“What?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as I grabbed the door handle behind me and bowed my head respectfully.

“Finish your Prefect duties and go back to your dormitory.” My voice was devoid of any emotion as I yanked the wooden door open behind myself, mind numb and silent for once, “I shall do the same, I won’t report this to Headmaster Dippet just yet.”

“Y/N, what are you—”

“I believe it’s Miss Song to you, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as I stepped outside, hands trembling beyond normal as I had started feeling faint, “Y/N, no. No, you cannot leave me, I don’t—I cannot—please, Y/N, my love, please don’t. I cannot live without you, Y/N—”

The wooden door was loud as it slammed shut in my face, making my knees go weak as I tumbled to the floor, gasping for air as my whole chest felt on fire, tears wetting my cheeks before I could even try to stop them from escaping. The gut-wrenching sob that rippled through the hallway despite the wooden door that separated us made my skin crawl, my heart screaming at me to go back and take back everything I’d said to Seonghwa, but my mind knew what was right. My mind knew there was no further future for us, for Seonghwa.

He had chosen his path, and I have chosen mine.

Like many knew, my work etiquette was beyond pristine and precise. I valued my missions above anything else, and so, I had wasted no time in reporting back to the Auror’s Office—to Theseus Scamander—about what I had found out at the casino. The attack that Grindelwald’s men—Seonghwa—was tasked to lead to avenge their leader. I could only hope that I was on time, that they hadn’t gotten to the village just yet, but with Seonghwa knowing that I had discovered their plans, it was probable that I was either too late, or they wouldn’t attack anymore. Either way, I was compromised and I needed to move, to go into hiding at one of our safe houses. I had requested to be placed close to Yunho and Mingi, in hopes that I could finally find them and speak to them. I missed them gravely, and slowly I had started feeling crazy without their safe and comforting presence around me.

But my mission wasn’t over yet, due to the weight of Seonghwa’s own mission, now I was tasked with killing him. It was a straight-up order, nothing could change their minds. Even if Seonghwa apologized and begged, they wouldn’t forgive him. In their eyes, he deserved to die—and I knew this. He did deserve to die, but I couldn’t ignore the growing lump in my throat and the coil of my stomach any time I tried to come up with a plan to lure him towards me. I was a trained professional, and I was tasked to kill a man. It would have been like second nature if said main wasn’t Seonghwa. I didn’t know how to proceed just yet, but I knew upon seeing Mingi and Yunho I would find solace in their presence and inspiration in their ideas. But one thing was certain, I would never be able to face Hongjoong again if my mission was successful.

I had woken up early in the morning to pack away my most important belongings, stuffing old polaroids deep into my satchel bag—the same one I had used at Hogwarts. At times when I felt nostalgic and missed the good old times, I would flip through the moving polaroids that had been taken at Hogwarts, many of them of Seonghwa and I, or of Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and I. Despite Yunho and Mingi having entered my life recently—three years ago, more specifically—the pictures of the three of us belonged in the same pile. Those two were like the brothers I never had.

I had taken my time to venture into the Muggle World and buy enough pills to last me three months in case I had to hide for a longer period of time, and I was already tempted to abuse the prescribed amount as I placed the third bottle away in my satchel bag, zipping it closed and placing it down onto the floor, next to my other bags. Now all I had to do was wait for the official that would fetch me and Apparate me to the safe house. Only a select few knew of its location, and I would be granted permission only once we have arrived to it. It didn’t help either that last night I was plagued with nightmares, the lack of sleep and the pills I had taken earlier this morning made me feel drowsy now, making me contemplate if taking a nap right now was smart or not. But I felt too restless to sleep, and thus, I couldn’t stop pacing around my main hallway, chewing away at my bottom lip. I was thinking of ways that I could deal with Seonghwa, desperately trying to find a way out in which he remained alive, when there were three firm knocks at my front door. I released a stressed sigh, grateful that the official was finally here and that I wouldn’t have to think about my issues for a little while.

I hurried over to the door, unlocking it quickly and yanking it open, freezing in surprise. The black cloaked figure was tall, head leaning down and obscured by a hood, making me wonder if the Ministry had changed up their customs and forgot to update me about them. But then, the person raised their head just until I could see their eyes, and I froze. Round eyes were narrowed into a ferocious glare and I gasped as I went to slam the door shut, fear striking my whole body as Seonghwa threw himself against my front door, pushing with all of his force to throw it open. I hissed as I leaned against the door heavily, refusing to give up, but Seonghwa gave it an aggressive push and I was sent tumbling back as I crashed into the round table placed in the middle of the hallway. He pushed the door open with his foot and unclipped his cloak from around his shoulders as he elegantly stepped inside, eyes cautiously glancing around, surveying the place. Perhaps he was looking to make sure I was alone.

I quickly snapped out of my initial shock and pushed off the table, heart beating fast as I ran around the table, going to fetch my wand which was placed atop the fireplace, but suddenly I felt my feet tangle together, sending me face first down onto the floor. I groaned as I narrowly avoided banging my head against the surface and rolled onto my back as I heard footsteps quickly approach. Staring up at Seonghwa wide eyed, his wand pointed at me, I narrowed my eyes and watched as the wand flew out of his hand at my non-verbal spell. His jaw clenched and I quickly jumped up to my feet, eyeing his wand, contemplating whether I should grab his instead as I knew he was never too good at wandless magic. I could only hope that was still true.

But as I lunged towards his wand, which had rolled underneath the table, Seonghwa lunged for me, arms wrapping around me and tackling me onto the table. I gasped as I collided against the surface painfully so, my shoulder digging into the sturdy wood as Seonghwa pressed my cheek with his hand against the surface without mercy.

“You’ve got a nice little cottage for yourself, Miss Song.” He sneered leaning down, “A little too daring for my taste. You didn’t even have wards set up.”

I huffed and grabbed his wrist with my left hand, which wasn’t trapped underneath my body, and yanked his hand off my face, kicking his shin hard with my leg, “I fear no one, Mr. Park. One doesn’t need wards when they live on the edge a Wizarding and Muggle town.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my love.” I gulped at the once endearing nickname, and trashed around until Seonghwa’s hold loosened, “You made tracking you so easy.”

I chuckled as I finally wrestled my way out from underneath Seonghwa, “Perhaps I wanted to be found, my love, perhaps you just willingly walked into my trap, Hwa.”

Seonghwa froze for a second, face falling as I smirked and jumped up, hand curling around his neck as I threw him into the wall behind him, making him gasp at the sheer force I had used. I had never fought physically against Seonghwa, we had only duelled at Hogwarts. He had no idea what I was capable of in hand-to-hand combat. But I also had no idea how he fought, and I was certainly taken aback when I felt his knee raise into my stomach, making me suck in a sharp breath of air. My hand left his neck as I doubled over, fighting the urge to vomit as Seonghwa looked down at me with a dark look in his eyes. I felt fingers card through my hair and my head was yanked back as I groaned, looking up into his eyes with venom.

“You’re rather unprepared for someone who’s just lured me into their trap.” Seonghwa leered, leaning down, but before he could get too close, I stomped on his foot harshly, making him cry out as he let go of me, pushing me to the side. Regaining my balance, I dashed towards the fireplace to retrieve my wand and I heard hurried movement behind myself as well as we both turned around at the same time, wands held in each other’s direction threateningly. Neither of us moved nor spoke, our eyes boring into each other’s to see who would make the first attack. Based on experience, Seonghwa wouldn’t attack first, he would wait for me to do that, but I suppose times have changed us as I was forced to dodge an attack that almost made my fireplace explode into pieces. My eyes widened at the aggressive nature of Seonghwa’s attack and decided to return the energy. If he wanted to play dirty and use non-verbal magic, I could certainly match his energy.

I sent a Stupefy his way and watched in satisfaction as it took him off guard and sent him flying into the wall, breaking the small shoe rack that I have mounted myself. I smirked at Seonghwa, tilting my head with a challenging glint in my eyes, until I suddenly lost my footing again. It had seemed like he was fond of the spell. Seonghwa looked slightly dazed as I tried to regain my bearings, my head having hit the floor a little hard this time, but the duel must go on, I have gone through far worse things compared to this.

Sharp icy arrows were shot towards me as I scrambled backward, raising an invisible shield with my left hand as I sent blue fireballs towards Seonghwa using wandless magic. His eyebrows furrowed as he raised his own shield last minute, looking taken aback that I could use my magic so sharply while utilizing three methods at once. I knew he couldn’t when his eyes hardened again, giving me time to finally stand up and continue my attack with a spell that had birds materializing and diving for Seonghwa. He yelped and shielded himself, his barrier broken by the bird’s beaks as I shot another Stupefy at him, which he barely avoided as it crashed into the portraits hung onto the wall, sending them crashing to the floor.

I knew his next move before he even did it—I didn’t need to read his mind to know—as I raised another shield, dodging his strong Stupefy as it shattered my spell quite instantly. This duel felt childlike, as if we were testing each other’s patience, wanting to see who would give in first. It almost felt petty, like he was only teasing me because he was so certain that he’d win. I could count on my fingers how often he had beat me in a duel, and I knew for a fact that he still wasn’t better than me. Fed up with our useless fight, I decided to put an end to it as my eyes hardened, Seonghwa’s eyes narrowing upon seeing my expression. But before I could yell out Expelliarmus, I felt my right hand burn, the wand so hot that I had no choice but to drop it as I gasped, the tremors of my hands worsening as I looked back up at Seonghwa. He was smirking, thinking he had won the duel, but I raised my left hand and screamed, “Expelliarmus!”

He didn’t expect me not to give in right away, and so, his wand flew out of his hand as I whirled it against the wall, hearing a crack. My breath halted in my throat as my eyes widened in horror, watching as Seonghwa’s broken wand fell to the floor, his jaw falling open as he flinched. The apology was on the tip of my tongue, but the pure rage that had encompassed Seonghwa’s face made me shiver, and I dashed for the front door, trying to escape before his wrath could reach me. But had I miscalculated our distance, and as I grabbed the handle and tried to open the door, I felt a warm presence behind myself as the door was slammed back shut, my breathing loud in the silent room as my heart had started beating fast.

I was frozen, too afraid to move as I didn’t know what Seonghwa would do now. The man that stood behind me, stopping me from fleeing, was somebody I didn’t know. I could hear Seonghwa trying to level his breaths as his palm remained pressing against the door, his arm brushing against my hair. I tried to calculate my next move, work out what would be the smartest thing to do next, but his proximity made it hard to focus. I had seen him barely two days ago and his touch was still fresh in my mind, haunting my every waking moment, making me crave him like never before.

“Where’s Riddle when you need him, huh?” Seonghwa’s tone was poisonous, laced with hatred as I tensed, eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t need Riddle,” I hissed, jaw clenching as my grip tightened around the handle, “I can protect myself; I don’t need anyone.”

“One would assume he’d be running here to save you like the lost puppy he was following you around at Hogwarts—”

“Tom has no part in my life!” My voice raised as I grew angrier, whirling around to face Seonghwa. I faltered for a second, finding him too close for comfort as he glared down at me, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes as I gulped, “I only used him to get an invite to the casino because I heard he goes there often—like you.”

Seonghwa’s careful mask cracked for a second as his eyebrows twitched, almost turning into a frown, but he caught himself and smirked instead, leaning down, “You think you can fool me with your pathetic lies?”

“Want me to show you?” I raised an eyebrow challengingly, knowing that it would only make Seonghwa angrier as he detested Legillimency, especially after I have used it on him at the casino.

He scoffed, leaning down closer to my face, “I should’ve killed you on the spot two nights ago—”

“Yet you didn’t,” I breathed out with a scoff, “like I haven’t told anyone about you and Lestrange’s stupid plan of bringing Grindelwald inside Hogwarts.”

“It wasn’t stupid—”

“You failed.”

“Because Riddle caused a scene, as always.” Seonghwa hissed, and I jumped when his fist made contact with the door above my head, making me melt back into the sturdy door, heart racing all over again, “I would’ve killed him a long time ago if Grindelwald hadn’t seen potential in him.”

Dread washed over me as I felt my stomach drop, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry,” Seonghwa leered, tilting his head to the side as his glare made me feel sick to my stomach. He’s never looked at me like that, with so much venom and hatred, “your little lover refused his offer and Grindelwald decided to let him live for a little longer.”

“He’s not my lover.” I snapped, chest rising and falling quickly once again as I started getting angry. When would he understand that I could never look at Tom the way he thinks I did, “I have never harboured any romantic feelings towards Tom—I don’t even understand how my personal life is any of your business. You don’t see me talking ill of Rhaena or questioning her motives with you, Seonghwa.”

He paused as he gulped loudly, his hand slipping lower on the door until it was right next to my head, his wrist brushing against my cheekbone, “Rhaena is someone I work with, it’s all professional.”

“I do not care, Seonghwa.”

“You don’t, right.”

I gulped as suddenly an uncertain look crossed Seonghwa’s features, his eyes momentarily softening as I felt my whole body tingle as he stepped closer, his clothes brushing against mine. I felt my mouth go dry as my eyes roamed his face, palms turning into fists as I felt the sudden urge to reach out to him and touch him. Seonghwa placed his other hand against the door too, caging me in between himself and the sturdy surface. His eyebrows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into mine, bangs slightly obscuring his beautiful eyes as he exhaled slowly, closing the distance between our bodies. I shuddered and tilted my head back as he straightened up, my eyes landing on his plush lips as he parted them, tongue poking out to lick his dry lips. My whole body was buzzing as my eyebrows furrowed, my heart and mind fighting a never-ending battle as I couldn’t contain myself anymore and reached up, fingers reluctantly touching his cheek.

I wasn’t certain if he’d let me as his eyebrows furrowed even more, obvious that he was also struggling to make up his mind. But at last, I decided to be brave and cupped his warm cheek, my hand trembling against his soft skin. Seonghwa gasped quietly as his eyes widened, searching my gaze before his eyes fluttered shut, bringing tears into my eyes. I so desperately wanted to be engulfed by his familiar embrace, the warmth of his safe hug, the feeling of belonging, something I haven’t felt ever since we parted ways. Then, just slightly, as my fingers have started tracing his cheekbone, he turned his head and pressed a firm kiss against my wrist, alighting a vicious fire in my body.

“Seonghwa.” I had barely finished whispering his name when my lips were muffled by his, the familiarity of them making me moan as I threw my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him with desperation. Seonghwa inhaled loudly as he gripped my hips and flushed our bodies together to the point you couldn’t tell where he started and where I ended, and I pushed up on my tiptoes to better kiss him. His pace was sloppy and desperate as I returned the aggressivity of his own lips, fingers tangling in his dark and long locks, pulling on the strands and making him groan in the back of his throat. He leaned down and I felt his hands travel to my thighs, and I jumped before he could signal for me to, legs wrapping around his hips firmly as he pressed me back up against the sturdy door, moaning against my mouth when I finally parted my lips for his tongue to explore. He tasted like the old Seonghwa, he smelled like the old Seonghwa, he even felt like the old Seonghwa.

His body had gotten sturdier, stronger, and yet despite the desperate way he clung to me, fingers pressing into my cheeks or grabbing at my neck, he remained mindful of hurting me, of being gentle even in our desperation to feel each other, to love each other. His tongue lapped at mine eagerly, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled back for a scarce breather, making me chase after his lips again as I couldn’t let go of him just yet. Our lips were swollen and covered in our mixed saliva, but I couldn’t care less as finally my thoughts were silent, my body and mind only focusing on Seonghwa. He gripped the back of my thighs and I made sure to hold onto him tighter as he pulled me off the door and started walking aimlessly around my cottage, having to pull away from my lips just slightly so that I could give him directions towards my bedroom.

Our clothes were quick to come off, even before we made it to the bedroom, and I found his once flawless skin now littered with scars, bringing tears to my eyes as he shuddered when I gently traced them with my fingertips. My body wasn’t perfect either, but it definitely harboured less scars than his, and it made me wonder just how many times he’s been in harms way with no guarantee that he’ll make it out alive. Before I could cry, Seonghwa’s lips were pressing against my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my jaw and chin, at last finding my lips as I was guided backwards onto the bed, pressing me down gently as he wasted no time getting on top of me. Despite the passing of time and being away from each other for four years, our bodies seemed to still know the other, our minds remembering every little thing that made the other tick, and it felt natural as we were guided by pure lust and desire for each other.

I had tried to remain composed and focused on Seonghwa, to give back just as much as I was receiving, but when he had settled between my legs, lips pressing feather-like kisses against my thighs until he drove me crazy and had me begging for more, I was a gone woman only able to focus on the immense pleasure his long tongue and plush lips brought, his fingers helping out when it wasn’t enough anymore. When my fingers yanked on his hair so hard that it made him whine, tongue lapping at my juices even faster, making me writ around until he held me down by the hips, Seonghwa knew I was close to unravelling, to coming undone on nothing but his tongue and fingers. But he pulled back, he always did, because he wanted to fill me up, to make me scream his name while I came undone on his dick. His lips kissed all the way up to my lips as I whispered his name over and over again, scratching down his back with my long nails, legs hooking around his hips as he wouldn’t lay on me just yet, tongue tangling with mine and making me taste myself as I reached down between us, grabbing his twitching member.

Seonghwa froze, moaning against my mouth as his eyebrows furrowed, rutting against my palm as I jerked my hand faster, until he was begging me to stop because he didn’t want to finish like this. And I did, I cradled his face in my hands as our eyes bore into each other’s, his dick finally lined up with my entrance as he slowly pushed inside, holding himself up by the forearms. It was painful, it was bittersweet, and it was the most pleasure I have felt in years, all in the arms of the man I had once loved—I still loved. My mouth had fallen open as I hissed in pain, eyebrows furrowing and eyes falling shut as Seonghwa kissed my wrists, whispering reassuring words, understanding that I haven’t done this since we went our separate ways.

But I didn’t need much to get accustomed to the once familiar feel of his dick splitting me open, stretching me out and making me feel filled to the brim, the only thought on my mind being him, Seonghwa. And I tried to swallow the noises that wanted to tear through my throat, but the harder Seonghwa slammed back in, the faster his hips thrust, I could only moan and whine, call out his name repeatedly as he fondled my breasts and made my back arch, hitting my sensitive spot over and over again. I grabbed onto his arms for leverage as he sat back on his heels, holding my hips up tightly as he pulled me down on each thrust to meet him halfway, making me curse out loudly as my stomach had started coiling, the pleasure building up until I couldn’t bear with it anymore.

“Seonghwa.” His name was nothing but a broken whisper as I bit my bottom lip, opening my arms, knowing that he’d understand my request. And he did, because he pressed himself completely against me, my arms going underneath his to hug him tightly as my fingernails pressed into his shoulder blades once again, painfully so, making Seonghwa hiss in pain and pleasure at the same time. He buried his head in my neck as he was panting, hips jerking messily as he was nearing his own undoing, much like I was. Our bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, chasing our own orgasms as Seonghwa’s right hand lowered between our bodies and started quickly rubbing my bundle of nerves, making me throw my head back and come undone in just a few seconds. His name left my lips like a mantra as I felt tears spring into my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, body trembling as he stilled, and then I felt hot liquid spill inside me as he lazily continued to move his hips, making my body ache as it all felt too much.

“My love.” His lips brushed against my ear with one final thrust and then he stilled, body going lax as I was panting hard, trying to swallow but my throat felt parched. Seonghwa muttered something against the skin of my neck but I didn’t understand, and I turned my head to press kisses against his hair, his shoulder blade, and ultimately his lips when he raised his head. I instantly felt cold and like I was missing something as he rolled over and pulled out, his chest rising and falling just as frantically as mine. My heart was beating so fast that it felt like a vein would pop in my forehead and I felt Seonghwa’s fingers intertwine with mine. I gulped and looked over, finding nothing but a pained expression on his face and eyes that were overflowing with tears. I couldn’t hold it back in anymore, and let mine fall free as Seonghwa sniffed loudly, his beautiful black hair strewn across my pillow, the cloudy weather casting my bedroom in a dim light.

“I love you, Y/N,” Seonghwa’s voice was raspy and it trembled as he pressed a long-lasting kiss against my knuckles, “I love you so much, my love.”

I bit my bottom lip to fight the sob that threatened to rip through my throat and nodded, bringing our hands up to my cheek to nuzzle it against Seonghwa’s skin, “I love you too, Hwa, always have. Always will.”

But we weren’t meant to be since we were on opposing sides. And we both knew that as our tears stopped flowing, our fingers going numb from how tightly we held onto each other. Seonghwa sighed then released my hand reluctantly, making me bite back a whine as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. Before he could get off my bed, I sat up hurriedly and threw my arms around him, letting out a long exhale as he returned the embrace, cradling my head against his naked chest. I wanted to grow old with him, I wanted to have children that would gift us grandchildren, I wanted us to never be separated again. And maybe Seonghwa wanted that too because his whole body trembled as we somehow found the strength to separate from each other, eyes yearning for something we’d never have.

I watched as he rolled over, then sat on the edge of my bed as I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging my bare legs, looking for even the smallest comfort now that I knew I would let him leave, just this once. This was our final goodbye, the closure we never got. Once Seonghwa was out of my cottage, we’d play our parts, we’d be the enemies everyone thought we were. I was ready, and perhaps he was ready to. An easy smile settled on my lips as I watched Seonghwa lean down and fetch something, his back muscles tensing as he glanced back over his shoulder. My eyebrows furrowed upon the solemn look on his face and I went rigid as he turned his torso around, my own wand pointed at me. His voice was resigned, a whisper, pained.

“Obliviate.”

1944

The train came to a screeching halt as we neared the next village, sending me back in my seat as I stared out the window, feeling bored as I knew nobody who shared the compartment with me. But that’s how it is when you don’t have friends of your own. It was alright, I had always done just fine on my own. As the train stopped and the doors opened, I watched the students who lived in this village get off, pulling their heavy luggage after themselves, greeted by their families who couldn’t wait for them to return home for the summer holiday. My chin was resting in my palm as I pursed my lips, finding it hard to enjoy my last train ride back home, never to return to Hogwarts. There was an ache in my chest that grew the longer I stared out the window, the longer I stared at the messy black-haired boy that had stopped close to the edge of the platform, gazing inside the train, dark and soft eyes landing on me unmistakably.

I gulped, feeling my heartbeat pick up the longer our gazes remained connected, confused by the ache in my chest that only got worse the longer we looked at each other. My eyebrows furrowed as I felt this sudden urge to reach out to him, to get off the train and run into his arms, to breathe in his familiar scent and feel his plush lips press against my skin, and his low voice whisper reassuring words into my ears. I didn’t know why I felt like that, I couldn’t explain the yearning of my own body as the boy’s once familiar face became hazy, unclear. No matter how hard I tried to look, I couldn’t see his features clearly. I couldn’t remember his name.

He became a murky memory in the back of my mind as the train whistled, signalling its departure, and as we took off, I felt the lurch of my heart and the coil of my stomach worsen as I jumped up from my seat, pulling the window open and scaring those sitting in the compartment with me. I looked out the window, head leaning outside as my eyebrows furrowed, the name of the boy on the tip of my tongue as I desperately tried to cry out his name—but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know who he was. The alarmed cries of the people who rode with me snapped me out of my unexplainable actions, and I settled back into my seat feeling confused and embarrassed as I apologized.

I couldn’t tell anymore why my heart ached like I had loved someone with my whole being, with my soul, like I had sworn to remain by their side forever and even beyond. It confused me as to why I wanted to sob and scream after a boy that once was my guiding light in the darkness, my star. A face once familiar now became just the whisper of a distant memory that I couldn’t put my finger on, a nostalgic ache of a love that felt real, yet intangible.

The stars couldn’t shine bright without their darkness.

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