#they’d be best friends argue with the wall

[bittersuitekim]

Half a World Away (and Still Yours)

Sydney was buzzing an amazing energy.

The arena still roared like a living thing behind the thick venue walls, echoing Billie’s name long after the final note faded. Backstage was its own kind of chaos — cords being coiled, gear hauled out, voices rising in a mix of laughter, exhaustion, and leftover adrenaline.

Billie walked offstage in a daze — mic still in hand, heartbeat thudding against her ribs, jersey damp and clinging to her back. Her band — who also happened to be her best friends — trailed behind her, equally breathless and riding high from the show.

Ava was fanning herself with a crumpled setlist.

Jane was already digging into a bag of sour candy.

Andrew and Solo were arguing over something, but no one was really listening.

Liminal and Abe were laughing about something Billie didn��t catch.

It was good. It was fun.

But it wasn’t complete.

Something — someone — was missing.

You.

She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been thinking about you all night.

Wanting you in the crowd.

Wishing you were waiting in the wings.

Wondering if the time difference back in LA even let you watch the livestream.

Then she turned a corner.

And her heart stopped.

You were there.

Wearing her hoodie — and underneath it, a cute crop top and shorts — leaning casually against a speaker case like you’d been there all night. Arms crossed. Smile blooming like summer.

Her mouth parted. “No. No freaking way.”

The others didn’t notice at first — still caught up in post-show chatter — but Billie?

She froze.

And then you stepped forward, your voice soft, sure:

“Surprise, baby.”

In a flash, she was in your arms — gripping your jacket, burying her face in your neck, pulling you in like she was scared you’d vanish.

“How?” she whispered. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t even hint—”

You giggled, pressing your cheek to hers. “Had to make it a real surprise.”

Behind her, the band caught up.

Ava let out a loud, “Wait, is that—?!”

Jane dropped her candy. Wherever she even got that from.

Andrew and Solo exchanged a look like they’d just watched a live-action rom-com. (Not that it was a surprise — they were used to how lovey-dovey you two were.)

Liminal grinned wide. Abe fist-pumped like he’d just won a bet.

“You planned this?” Billie asked, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

“With help,” you said, nodding toward Jane, who winked like a criminal.

“I was sworn to secrecy,” Jane said, raising both hands like she was surrendering.

“You’re all evil,” Billie laughed, holding you tighter. “Beautiful, perfect traitors.”

A voice called down the hall: “Billie! Photos in fifteen!”

She didn’t even glance away from you.

Her smile was the biggest it had been all night.

“Tell them it can wait!”

⸻

Later that night

The whole band ended up at Billie’s favorite late-night vegan ramen spot — a cozy little rooftop nook overlooking the Sydney skyline, far from press, far from fans. Just your people.

The table was a beautiful mess of chopsticks, half-empty bowls, bottles of water, and chaotic, breathless stories from the show.

You sat beside Billie, legs brushing beneath the table, her hand tangled with yours under it. She kept sneaking glances at you like she still couldn’t believe you were really here.

“So,” Jane said, raising an eyebrow, “you just flew fifteen hours with no warning?”

You smirked. “I had a mission.”

“She just kind of appeared in the arena,” Solo said, laughing. “Real casual. Like it was totally normal for her to be backstage in Sydney.”

Billie leaned into your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered.

“I wanted to,” you murmured back. “You’ve been giving the world everything, including me. I just wanted to give something back.”

She smiled, eyes a little misty now.

“I love you so much,” Billie said.

“I love you more, baby,” you replied.

“Impossible,” she muttered, cheeks pink and a little flustered.

You kissed her, soft and slow. Unbothered by the teasing groans around the table.

Even with the city glittering beneath you — a thousand lights glowing across the skyline — Billie’s whole world was here.

Still hers. Always.

Author note: Hii!! Omg I was so nervous to post this since it’s my first time writing and this took forever to write! I hope all of you guys enjoy it as much as I did! (Don’t steal or repost any of my work! Even if you ask permission.)

I’ll also be making a taglist! Just comment or submit in inbox if you wanna be in my taglist!

Request by: @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 thank you so much for requesting this. ♡‧₊˚

[the-morphiend]

MORBESTIES 4EVA

[xo100]

Wrapped in warmth - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by @misspygmypie "obv with lando and reader, she's always cold and he always makes sure she's warm (like wrapping her up in a thick jacket on a rainy race day). Maybe best friends with underlying unresolved feelings? My fav trope lol!"

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1566

୨ৎ

The cool wind swept across the paddock, carrying with it the scent of damp asphalt. It was race day, but the usual energy buzzing through the grandstands was slightly dampened by the persistent drizzle that had started in the early morning and hadn’t let up since. Grey clouds hung low in the sky, casting a muted, heavy atmosphere over the track.

-

Lando Norris pulled the hood of his McLaren jacket tighter around his face as he jogged through the garage, his eyes scanning the small crowd near the pit wall. His race engineer was calling him over to discuss some final strategy adjustments, but Lando’s attention was only half there. He was looking for her.

It was almost second nature now. Whenever he arrived at the track, the first thing on his mind—after the car, of course—was to find where she was. And today, in this cold, miserable weather, he knew she’d be huddled somewhere, trying her best to act like she wasn’t freezing. She always did. Stubborn as she was, she hated admitting she was cold, even when she clearly was.

Sure enough, there she was, standing near the edge of the garage. She had a team hat pulled low over her head, but it wasn’t doing much to shield her from the biting wind. She was dressed in a light jacket—nowhere near enough for this weather—and had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, pretending like she was fine.

Lando sighed softly. He had known her long enough to recognize when she was putting on a brave face. They had been friends for years, ever since that awkward first encounter in the paddock back when he was still in F2. She had been working as a journalist back then, tasked with interviewing young up-and-coming drivers. But what was supposed to be a quick five-minute interview had turned into an hour-long conversation full of laughter, teasing, and a connection neither of them had quite anticipated.

From that day on, they’d been nearly inseparable. She followed his career closely, attending as many races as she could, while he supported her in her work, always sneaking off to catch up with her during the busy race weekends. They were best friends—undeniably close, and yet, there was something more between them. Something unspoken, simmering just beneath the surface, but neither had dared to voice it. There was too much at stake, too much to lose if they acknowledged the feelings they both tried so hard to ignore.

Lando glanced at her again, noticing the way she subtly shivered, even as she stood chatting with a few mechanics. He grinned to himself, his protective instincts kicking in. She could act tough all she wanted, but he wasn’t going to let her freeze.

Without hesitation, he crossed the garage and approached her from behind. “You know, you’re terrible at pretending you’re not cold,” he teased, his voice soft and playful as he gently draped one of his thick McLaren jackets over her shoulders.

She jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance, but relaxed as soon as she realized it was him. “Lando, I’m fine,” she protested, though her fingers were already reaching up to pull the jacket tighter around her body.

“Sure you are,” he replied with a knowing smirk, ignoring her weak attempt to push it off. “It’s freezing out here, and you’re acting like we’re on a tropical beach. You could at least try to take care of yourself for once.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further, clearly grateful for the warmth. “You’re such a worrier, you know that?”

“Only because you’re impossible,” he shot back, nudging her gently with his shoulder. “If I didn’t look after you, you’d probably turn into an icicle by now.”

Despite her efforts to appear unbothered, her heart fluttered at his words, a familiar warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the jacket he’d given her. Lando had always been like this—caring in the subtlest ways, looking out for her even when she didn’t ask for it. And she couldn’t deny how much she loved that about him, even if it made navigating her feelings for him that much harder.

“Besides,” he added with a sly grin, “I can’t have my best friend turning into a popsicle before the race. Who else is going to be there to cheer me on?”

Her stomach did that annoying flip it always seemed to do when he called her his best friend. It was a label she cherished but also hated at times like this, when his easy affection made it painfully clear that he probably saw her as nothing more than that.

“Always so selfless,” she joked, hoping her voice didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. “But thanks. I guess I’ll keep it—for now.”

He laughed softly, the sound bright even against the grey day. “Good. Now, come on, I’ve got to get through a strategy meeting, but after that, I’m dragging you somewhere warm until the race starts. No arguments.”

Her laugh echoed his, though her heart was still lodged somewhere in her throat. Moments like these—where his kindness felt like something more than just friendship—they were becoming harder to shake off. Every touch, every teasing comment, every concerned glance… it made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, he felt something more, too.

But then reality would set in. Lando was focused on his career, on being the best driver he could be. The last thing he needed was complications—especially not the kind that could ruin their friendship. And so, she kept her feelings tucked away, hidden behind easy smiles and sarcastic remarks, not wanting to risk what they already had.

-

As the race drew closer, the drizzle had turned into a steady downpour, and the paddock was buzzing with talk of potential rain strategies. Everyone was scrambling to adjust to the wet conditions, but despite the chaos, Lando’s mind was still on her. The image of her standing there, bundled up in his jacket, stuck with him. He couldn’t help it—making sure she was okay had always been a priority, even if he never openly admitted it.

Lando knew that his feelings for her had grown far beyond friendship. Somewhere along the line, between the races, the late-night texts, and the endless teasing, his heart had gotten involved. He had fallen for her, completely and utterly, but fear kept him from acting on it. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined everything by admitting it?

The thought scared him more than any race ever had.

And yet, there were moments—like today, when she looked at him with that mix of amusement and gratitude—where he swore she felt something too. It was in the way her gaze lingered just a little too long, or the way she unconsciously leaned into him when he was close. Maybe he was imagining it, or maybe he was just too afraid to see what was right in front of him.

-

By the time the race had ended, the rain had let up, but the cold lingered in the air. The stands were still packed with fans, despite the weather, and Lando had just finished celebrating a respectable finish. Exhausted but happy, he made his way back to the garage, peeling off his gloves as he went.

As soon as he spotted her waiting for him near the pit wall, bundled up in his oversized jacket, a sense of calm washed over him. She was talking to one of the mechanics, laughing about something, but her eyes lit up when she saw him approaching.

“Congrats,” she greeted him with a grin, her voice warm despite the cold. “You didn’t win, but hey, at least you didn’t crash in the rain, so that’s something.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully. “Always so supportive,” he teased, though he appreciated the way she could joke with him, even after a tough race.

“Someone’s got to keep your ego in check,” she shot back, the familiar banter flowing easily between them.

Lando was about to respond when he noticed the way her cheeks were still slightly flushed from the cold, despite the thick jacket she was wearing. Without thinking, he reached out, gently tugging the jacket higher on her shoulders, making sure she was as warm as possible.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice suddenly softer, as if the weight of the moment had settled between them.

Their eyes met, and for a brief second, the world around them faded away. It was just the two of them, standing in the fading light, rain still dripping off the roof of the garage. There was something unspoken in the air, something that had been building for years.

Neither of them moved, but the space between them felt charged with all the things they hadn’t said, all the emotions they had tried to bury.

“Lando, I—“ she started, but before she could finish, one of the engineers called him over, breaking the moment.

He shot her an apologetic look, but the tension between them lingered, the words unsaid hanging in the air.

“Later,” he promised, his voice low and sincere.

She nodded, watching him walk away, her heart heavy with the weight of everything they hadn’t said.

And just like that, the moment passed.

But the feelings didn’t. They never did.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; my first request! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love!

[finelinevogue]

something in the orange

summary - you are harry’s ex and you happen to rekindle at his sisters wedding

word count - ~2k

pairing - ex-boyfriend!harry x reader

🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞

It wasn’t a complete surprise that your ex-boyfriend was at his sisters wedding, but nonetheless you were still shocked to see him.

You had been friends with Gemma, your exes sister, way before you were dating her brother, Harry, which is probably the main and only reason you had been invited to her wedding.

Gemma and her family were still very nice towards you, even though you broke their Harry’s heart.

Well for the most part.

You had been sat on a table at the back of the reception room for the evening meal, with a couple of distant friends of the groom. You had been trying to make small talk as best you could, but your little introverted heart could only try so hard.

“Are you staying in Italy after the wedding?” You asked a man called Gordon who was sat next to you, with his girlfriend.

“No.”

He then went back to talking to his girlfriend.

You took a sip of your mocktail, glancing around the room to enjoy the happiness of others.

Gemma was happily chatting with Michal, her now husband, whilst Anne, Gemma’s mum, was arguing with one of the chefs that the cake had to be ready in ten minutes. It was quite funny to watch Anne get angry, considering she’s the loveliest person on the planet.

You noticed Harry, of course you did.

He hadn’t looked your way once, or if he had he’d been so discreet about it that he was making you feel invisible.

You didn’t blame him for keeping his distance, after all you had broken his heart. It was a surprise you had even been invited, but friends first and all that.

He looked good.

He looked better than good, he looked ridiculously pretty.

Harry was dressed in a black tuxedo with a bow tie that had now been untucked and was loosely hanging around his neck. He looked tanned and well. He looked happy, you thought.

You turned to a girl next to you and tried to start conversation with her.

“How are you enjoying the Amalfi Coast?” You smiled.

“It’s nice.” She smiled back before turning to speak to whoever was next you.

It wasn’t particularly nice having the people on your table kind of ignore you, but then again they didn’t know you and had no reason to get to know you.

You ate your meal in silence as you simple people watched.

It was nice seeing familiar faces, even if yours was one they’d rather not see.

Once you had finished, people had started to get up to go and dance on the little dance floor on the terrace. It was laden with fairy lights strung high above, along with an abundance of citronella candles that casted a warm orange glow over the area.

You watched as some couples slow danced. A little girl had a dance competition with her dad. Gemma and Michal busted whatever shapes they were doing.

“Have you finished, ma’am?” A waiter asked you, breaking you away from watching the evening continue without you.

“Oh yes. Thank you, it was really lovely.”

“Our pleasure.” They smiled at you, before cleaning up.

You fiddled with your fingers as you watched more and more people get up on the dance floor to enjoy their evening.

You pushed your chair back then, deciding to go to the toilet before you made the decision whether or not to join people out on the terrace.

The wedding location was gorgeous.

A beautiful historical hotel, overrun with flowers cascading down the stone walls, that was built into the cliffside along the Amalfi Coast.

It was no surprise that the wedding was here, considering Gemma and Harry called Southern Italy their second home. Harry had taken you to his house in Maiori multiple times when you had been together and you completely understood why he loved this area.

You missed going to that house. The crazy adventures you’d get up to.

You missed Harry.

You locked yourself in a cubicle before you could make yourself upset over it.

You’d just finished up when you heard some people walk in.

“Did you see Y/Ns here?” They said, but you couldn’t work out who they were - at least it wasn’t someone you recognised.

“Yeah. Wonder why.” You didn’t recognise the second persons voice either.

“Fucking ballsy if you ask me.” They both laughed. “If I’d cheated on my best-friends brother and still been invited to her wedding, I wouldn’t go.”

“Did Y/N cheat on Harry? I heard that she had a mental breakdown when he stopped buying stuff for her and stopped taking her on expensive holidays.”

You sat down on the toilet lid, not finding the courage to go out there and speak up for yourself.

“No. Pretty sure she cheated. Doesn’t surprise me though, she always was a little bit… different.”

“You mean, not model worthy?!” They both laughed again.

You carefully and silently ripped off some toilet paper before using it to dab the tears that were falling from your eyes and down your cheeks.

It was tough, trying to not take things to heart but you were a sensitive person. This didn’t make you a bad person, in fact it just meant that you carried extra love around with you.

It hurt when other people couldn’t see that when you tried to live with your heart on your sleeve as much as you could.

“God… Wonder why she came?”

“Probably to prove that she’s not the bitch everyone thinks she is.”

“Yeah.”

“Harry hasn’t even spoken to her.”

“Weren’t they together for like five years.”

6 years and 3 months, you thought to yourself.

Best 6 years and 3 months of your life.

“Something like that.”

“Poor Harry.”

“Yeah. Must’ve been rough for him.”

“Means he is single though.”

“Wonder whether he’s ready to mingle.” They both laughed again, before leaving the toilets discussing their plan to make Harry see them.

You finished dabbing your eyes free of tears, breathing out a heavy breath before standing up and heading to the sinks to freshen up.

You patted your cheeks with water to cool you down and looked at yourself in the mirror with a smile.

You are okay. You thought to yourself. You know what they said isn’t true. You are a good person.

Once you’d collected yourself, you left the bathroom.

If you headed right you would find yourself back in the main room heading towards the terrace, but it you went left it would lead you to some stone steps carved into the cliff wall that lead down to a private beach.

Of course you headed left.

The night sky was burning a deep orange from where the sun was setting. You couldn’t wait for the stars. Stargazing had always been yours and Harry’s favourite pastime - it grounded you whilst simultaneously reminding you how grateful that you’d found each other in all of this.

The stairs were easy to walk down, even in wedge sandals.

It took you a good fifteen minutes to climb down, but the second your toes felt the cooling sand you knew it had been worth it. Would it be worth the climb back up? Hmm…

You crossed the beach, smiling when you realised you were the only one down here in this small alcove of a beach.

The waves moved in slowly, making that euphoric crashing sound as they folded over and onto the sand.

The water was turning a darker blue under the setting sun, but you knew in the daytime it would be a crystal clear blue - perfect for swimming or snorkelling.

You sat on the beach, toeing off your sandals and resting them beside you.

You pulled your knees up to your chin, hugging your arms around your legs as you sat and watched the waves crash again and again. There was something so therapeutic about it.

As you watched on you couldn’t help but think back to the conversation those girls were having in the toilet.

You didn’t realise what people thought about you being your back. It stung to think people were thinking such horrible things.

The moment your eyes started watering again you knew that what they’d been saying about you hadn’t really registered until now - in the quiet on your own. It hadn’t fully clicked that everyone now perceived you as this horrible, bitch of a woman that broke the heart of a man who is loved by millions.

You sniffled, looking up at the sky to hold back the onrush of any more tears.

“Here.”

“Holy fucking….” You scrambled from where you were sitting and jumped up to find Harry standing beside you, “Harry… My…”

You put your hand over your heart, having been scared shitless from him unintentionally creeping up on you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

You then realised he was still holding out his handkerchief for you - the one you thought had been pretend from his suit pocket.

“It’s okay, thank you.” You took this handkerchief and wiped under your eyes with it, dabbing your nose too. “I didn’t realise you were down here, sorry. I’ll leave.”

You bent down to pick up your shoes, but were stopped when Harry gently bent his wrist around yours.

“Please don’t.”

You felt like you had stopped breathing.

Harry’s soft touch against your skin nearly made your heart cave inside your chest. You felt like time had stopped, but you wouldn’t care if you only ever got to see Harry in this moment, in this frame, for ever and ever.

The way the setting sun casted a golden hew against his skin made him prettier than anyone Michelangelo could sculpt. His eyes were just as green and perfect as always, if only with a little extra sadness spreading at the corners.

And those lips.

Well you only wished they were still yours to kiss.

“I don’t…” You started, not moving your hand away from his. “You don’t want me here.” You whispered, tucking your head down.

You missed the way he shook his head softly, furrowing his eyebrows with frustration.

Harry stepped closer to you, making you apprehensively look up again. He was so pretty.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking I don’t want you around. Stop thinking that I never want to see you again. Stop believing that you have done something wrong. Stop thinking that you aren’t still the most important person in my life.” Harry’s eyes were now tearing up.

You shook your head, pulling your hand from his carefully.

“I.. I can’t.. sorry.”

“Y/N…”

You were about to run across the beach, away from Harry when his call stopped you.

“Y/N, no.”

Your feet froze and you turned around slowly to see him standing in place, ever so slightly shaking his head.

“Just no.” He said.

“I… I don’t understand.” You said.

“The last time you ran away, I let you.” Harry said, as you tried to refrain from thinking back to the last time it had been like this.

“I know.”

“Well, I’m not about to make that mistake again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, bottom lip pouting which Harry always used to tease you about.

You stood still, your breath catching when he started moving towards you. You couldn’t move. You were frozen to the spot, like some force of nature wasn’t allowing you to move.

“The last time I let you walk out of my life was the biggest mistake I ever made. I should’ve tried harder - I should’ve begged you to stay, God knows I wanted you to.”

“Harry, please don’t say things you don’t mean…”

“What don’t you get, Y/N/N?” Harry stopped short of you, confused about how you couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to tell you.

“You don’t want me to stay.”

“What—.”

“You don’t need me to stay.”

“Y/N…”

“No, H, listen to me.” You confidently took a step forwards towards him, still leaving a good enough space between you. “I can’t put you through another breakup like that again.. I… I don’t even think either of us have properly gotten over the last one. I meant what I said and did last time and I still mean it now.”

“Well fuck that. You don’t get to say things like that.”

“Harry…”

“No. Fuck!” Harry shouted, combing a hand through his hair like he did when he was stressed. “Do you understand how much you hurt me?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask you that, so you took a tiny step back in shock. You bravely answered, “Yes.”

“And do you know why?” His eyes were watering now.

“Yes.”

“So tell me.”

“Har—.”

“Just.. humour me and tell me.”

“You were hurt because I broke up with you. You were hurt because I gave up on over six years. You were hurt because I was cruel.”

Your voice was shaky but you stood strong, not wanting to guilt trip Harry into feeling sorry for you.

“No.” He replied. “No. I was hurt because the woman I love, the woman I was only weeks away from getting down on one knee for, broke up with me because she decided she wasn’t worth me loving. Not that she didn’t love me anymore, no, but because she felt unworthy of my love.”

Your eyes started free flowing with tears then as you stood and listened to him speak. Everything he was saying was true but it didn’t make it any more comfortable to hear back.

“I was hurt because I thought we could talk about things like that before the progressed into something we could never come back from. I was hurt because you chose to listen to all the sick and twisted voiced in your head, rather than the one voice that actually mattered; mine. I was hurt because you didn’t communicate. I had to find out from my sister that you were being abused online by, not only my fans, but close girl friends of mine over their jealousy. And I had to find out from my mum that yours had passed away a few weeks before you broke up with me.”

You let out a sob then, everything crashing around in your mind. Too many thoughts and too little left of you to put them all back together.

“Y/N, love, I was hurt because I was there for you when you didn’t believe I could be.”

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed out before your knees gave way and you dropped onto the beach beneath you, crying your what was left of your heart out.

Everything from your breakup, to the hate and losing your mum, the grief had all been collecting inside of your head and it was only now that you felt safe enough to let it all go.

You caved in on yourself, cupping your hands over your face.

It only took a couple of seconds for Harry to collapse onto the floor beside you, scooping your body up in his arms so he could pull you close into his chest. Your chest heaved as you cried, and you could only just hear Harry calming you down with a few ‘sshh’ and the occasional kiss to your forehead.

You kept repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, not really knowing who you were apologising to.

Harry? Your mum? Yourself?

“Sshh. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Harry kept repeating in between your apologies.

You let Harry hold you for what felt like hours, but was actually only five minutes, before you had calmed yourself down and you could breathe again.

You emerged from Harry’s hold and gave him a weak smile.

“Probably look like a right state after crying.” You laughed at yourself.

Harry cupped your cheek with his hand and softly ran his thumb there. “Still as pretty as the day I met you.”

“H, you met me when we were less than a year old. You don’t remember that.” You stifled a laugh.

“I don’t remember much, but I remember you.”

You dipped your head with a blush as he said that, his words still having that charming effect on you.

Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, but you were quick to hold it again with yours. You threaded your fingers through his and gave a tight squeeze. He squeezed back.

“I am really sorry, Harry.”

“I know.”

“I have a lot to be sorry for and I’ll find the strength to write you a list of them all one day.” You promised.

“Maybe we can write them together? Perhaps in a couples therapy?”

Your head shot up to meet his at the hearing of the word ‘couples��.

“You want…”

“I want you to be mine again. I may be selfish but screw it, I’m taking this chance to ask you whether, with the right help maybe, we could become us again?”

“Are you sure?” You moved closer to him, knees touching knees.

Here on this little beach, tucked away from the crowds of the party and the rest of the world you felt everything was right again. Almost like a haze had been lifted and you could see clearer now more than even what you wanted - who you wanted.

“Trust me.”

“I do. I promise, I do.”

“Maybe it’ll take some time, but I promise to be there for you, always, and take care of you like I promised your mum all those years ago.”

“You’ve always taken care of me, H. My mum would be proud of you.”

“Like she’s proud of you, too.”

“Don’t make me cry again.” You whispered, eyes locked on his so you could focus on something else other than the tears that wanted to spill.

“So was that a yes? Do you want to try again?”

“Ask me properly.” You leaned closer.

“Y/N L/N.” He said with a smirk.

“Yes.”

“Will you be my girlfriend… again?”

You burst out laughing over that, dropping your head onto his shoulder to hide your blushing face from his.

You smiled to yourself before answering.

“Yes,” You kissed his neck before sitting back up again, “Yes, yes, yes.”

And with the smile on Harry’s face as you gave him your answer you knew that you would be alright this time.

There was just something in the orange of that burning Italian sunset that told you, you and Harry were far from done. In fact, you’d only just started.

[7ndipity]

BTS As Girl Dads

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would each handle being girl dads

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! This got me soo in my feels, they’d all be such great dads(I may have gone a lil self indulgent but who cares lol). Obviously, some/most of these could also apply to any kid, regardless of gender, but for the sake of the Hc, we’re focusing on daughters

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He’s honestly such a girl dad, argue with the wall

I totally see him wholly embracing the title and all the things that are typically considered ‘girly’, like pink and sparkles and all that

He would indulge every single one of her interests. She likes animals? They’re going to the zoo every weekend. She likes music? He’s signing her up for lessons for whatever instrument she’s into

I have this mental picture of them sitting on her bed together while he’s reading her bedtime stories, using all these silly voices and wearing one of her princess hats or something bc she insisted he needed for the character and just-😭

Yoongi:

Yoongi would be the softest girl dad ever, like she had him wrapped around her finger from day one. He took one look at her tiny little scrunched up face, that reminded him waay too much of his own expression when he’s annoyed, and he was a goner

I see him just sitting soo patiently while she gives him makeovers, wearing like three different pairs of clip-on earrings at the same time

He would really focus on teaching her to stand up for herself and makes sure she never takes any shit from anyone

He might come off a little stern sometimes, but it’s just because he worries and wants the best for her

Hobi:

Okay, Hobi as a girl dad might be one of my favorite headcanons, bc he’d be soo fucking sweet with them!

The tea party King. Like he shows up dressed in the most ridiculous outfits to make her giggle, and ready to talk imaginary gossip with her and any plushies that are joining them🤭

He would love shopping with/for her, constantly trying to find the coolest outfits or pieces for her, and they would definitely wear matching outfits when she was little(she would be the best dressed toddler ever, lol)

I also see him being quite protective of her at times, being super nervous/worried about her doing things like riding a bike for the first time or on her first days of school

Namjoon:

Omg Namjoon as a girl dad would be soo fucking protective. Like if someone does anything to hurt or upset her, they’re fucked

I see him loving daddy-daughter days out together, taking her to the park or museums or bookstores, really just wanting to indulge her curiosity and interests

Like Yoongi, he would really work to make sure she knows how to stand up for herself, as well as others

For all of his sternness tho, he would have the biggest soft spot for her, he’s 100% the type to let her have dessert before dinner or something bc she gave him puppy eyes

Jimin:

Omg he’s soo girl dad coded, like it’s not even funny(he literally confirmed that on that ep of “are you sure?” like 🥺)

He would treat her like a little princess, doting on her at every possible opportunity, buying her toys/clothes/treats, taking her on special outings, etc. If she wants something, he will do whatever he can do give it to her

He would not be able to stand seeing her in any sort of pain. Like even her just having a scraped knee would make him slightly misty-eyed, even tho she’s not upset/crying about it

I see them having lots of long talks about whatever’s on her mind. He would really strive to be her safe place to ask questions about anything, from school and friends to life and the future

Taehyung:

I see him being an amazing girl dad! He has this amazing, comforting dynamic with the girls that he’s worked with/is friends with, so I can only imagine how supportive he would be with his own daughter

He would be so indulgent in whatever she wanted. Ice cream before bed? Heck yeah, let him grab a spoon too. She wants a new plushie/toy even tho she just got one like yesterday? Well, the new one needs a friend, soo-

But he would still have his more stern/protective moments with her, just moreso in little ways like making sure she’s always wearing her helmet and elbow/knee pads, brushes her teeth, does her homework, etc

He would play along with all/any of their imaginary games, fully committing to the role(and adding waay too many silly death/fainting scenes bc they make her laugh)

Jungkook:

Junkook would absolutely adore a daughter. Like she would be his little princess and anyone/anything that upsets her will have to answer to him.

On the flip side of that protectiveness tho, he is so unbelievably gentle with her. As an infant, he handled her like she was made of glass, and as she grows up, he would always speak to her in a softer tone than he uses for anyone else 

(Also dodon’t think about him singing her to sleep every night as an infant. Getting up with her in the middle of the night and walking her around the house, singing to her softly till she drifts back off to sleep in his arms)

He would love teaching her things and playing games with her(I totally picture him teaching her boxing in tiny and falling over all dramatic when she lands a hit, lol)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[artemisiasmuse]

always known | CH.3

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 3k

MASTERLIST

< previous next >

rafe realizes he may have made a mistake when he overhears you and sarah arguing at a party. he’s walking past the room you two are in and the door is slightly open. it’s not entirely his fault your raised voice stuns him, you sound so hurt and his body goes into some sort of panic state from the sound alone. his feet feel heavy, unmovable, so he leans against the wall next to the door.

“sarah i can’t, the last time was so fucking awkward okay!” you can’t believe she’s actually suggesting you stay at tannyhill while your place gets fixed. your dishwasher, which you found out was from 1981, had broken and caused your place to flood. the repair company said it would take at least a couple of weeks, not to mention the headache of replacing your furniture. you even had to get ready in the car with plastic bags of your clothes. thankfully since your room was on the second floor your clothes and important belongings were unharmed but there was no way you could stay there with the ground floor being unusable. you planned to book a hotel or crash at one of your OBU friend’s dorms when sarah cameron swooped in to save you. at least she thought she was saving you, but here you were feeling nauseous from her suggestion.

“he doesn’t hate you, come on, that's crazy, and besides it's my house too he doesn’t decide who goes in and out. rose and dad adore you, they’d love to-“ he flinched at sarah’s words, so this was about him. that’s why you were so angry. he hadn’t heard you angry since the last party, it was still far better than your sadness. he hadn’t seen you much since the bar burger thing and it was for the best, you had seemed happy with your new friends and he didn’t want to ruin that. topper and kelce managed to keep him in the loop even if he didn’t ask about it, mentioning that you had arrived with your friends. rafe might not be talking to you but it was an impossible task to ignore you. the black mini skirt and plain grey crop top you were wearing might as well have been a wedding dress in his eyes. there was no other girl in the party, in all of outer banks, the whole world, he’d rather look at even for a few seconds. his absence in your life was a good thing right? then why did he feel like breaking down the door between you two from the sound of you in distress.

“please sarah i can’t-“ and he hears your voice crack and then the small sobs that follow it, the solo cup in his hand crunches. he wants to so badly go in and beg you to stop crying. he knows he doesn’t deserve to hear this but he still can’t move, his stomach twists at the sound of your broken breathing, it takes him back to when you would cry in his arms and he would hug you until you stopped. now he can’t even approach you and it’s all his fault. his eyes sting with unshed tears, he wills them away.

“i should beat rafe’s ass” rafe thinks that’s the best thing sarah has said in a while. you panic at the statement, wiping your tears. you couldn’t stand to break this illusion of ignorance between you two. you’d been stealing glances at him all night, even your college friends had deduced that the “hot blonde buzzcut” was off limits. you didn’t correct them, only saying that it was complicated and you hadn’t even spoken to him but he looked better for it.

“no, don’t say anything to him, i just need to get used to it s’all. we used to be best friends ya know, i loved him so much, i mean i still do but sometimes i don’t know if he even remembers me.” you can’t pretend in front of sarah, not when you see his face in hers. her brown eyes stare into yours, they’re not the shade that you’re used to. it’s always like this. you get a bit drunk and you start looking for the closest thing in the eyes of others. that’s how you ended up with your two exes, ultimately realizing the shade would never be close enough.

even now you wonder if rafe’s okay, if he’s doing better now that you’re out of his life again. he looked so uncomfortable with you around and seeing him now still makes you feel horrible but you can tell he’s happier. you can’t help the tears that keep streaming. rafe flinches at your words, hearing you say that you love him is breaking his heart and he clenches his hand by his side. it’s a privilege to be loved by you, even if it’s not the way he wants.

“you’re kinda impossible to forget.” rafe takes it back, that’s the best thing sarah said. how could he possibly forget you? you were itched into his bones, your initials tattooed on his heart, even in his dreams you haunted him. he goes to sleep looking at the framed photo of you two in kindergarten and wakes up to the one of you in middle school, looking shy and slightly goofy in your formal wear for the school dance. and he could’ve removed them, rose had even suggested it, but that just felt wrong. much like the distance between you two right now.

“thanks sare love you.” he could hear your voice muffled, sarah hugged you close.

“love you too, now stop messing up your makeup, you're too pretty to cry over him.” with that he took his drink back to the kitchen and replaced it with something harder.

rafe nearly faints when he sees you in his kitchen the next morning. he thinks he might have discovered some new level of drunk that makes you hallucinate. you’re clearly hungover too, your eyes barely open as you trudge around. clad in an oversized shirt and gym shorts that look like they might be from high school, you’re entirely too endearing to be real. when you see him you mumble something about sarah saying it was fine. he knows it’s fine, he actually thinks seeing you back in the house is the most fine he’s ever felt in years. you’re looking for something he notices, unsuccessful in your search. he curiously watches on, unbelieving that after this long you’d know where things are.

“hey uhm where’s the cereal bowls? i swear they were over here before-“ and you’re right they were where you were standing, rafe shuts his eyes for a few beats to find some semblance of self control. when he opens them he’s looking away from you and grabbing a glass of water for the painkiller he desperately needs.

“next to the fridge.” he motions towards the cabinet on the left and you nod.

“that makes more sense.” rafe doesn’t tell you that wheezie had said the same thing before insisting the bowls be moved there.

“oh-“ your hands reach for a bowl but your gaze is captivated by the explosion of colors stark against uniform white bowls. it’s the bowl you and rafe painted together after pottery class, your initials engraved into it and your eyes water at the sight. your heart aches at how different your friendship is now compared to the love and respect gone into making the bowl only years ago. looking at it now the bowl is pretty hideous, none of the colors complement one another but somehow it makes sense.

“hey why are you-“ his voice plants you firmly back into reality, it doesn’t have the soft lilt it used to have, the one he reserved for you. it sounds almost angry. once again hard and distant and it jolts you back into obedience, grabbing a regular one and wiping at your eyes. rafe feels like he might throw up when he watches you physically flinch from his words. the thought that he scared you of all people made what little resolve he had left crumble. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who insisted he wasn’t the monster rose thought he was, that ward was a terrible father for how he treated you. you couldn’t be scared of him, you were the only one. now you flinched from his voice alone.

“i’m sorry.” you’re apologizing for something you’re not entirely sure of and rafe begins to hate himself. why couldn’t he be normal? why did he have this insatiable urge to make you his? all the anger and frustration he felt when you left was nothing in the face of seeing you cry because of him. and it’s the second time it’s happening in the span of twenty-four hours.

“come here.” you look up shocked and find him with an arm outstretched to pull you into his side. his expression is cracking like yours, his brows drawn together and his head hung low, he looks almost apologetic. you’re so shocked you think you might be dreaming so you don’t hold back. you loop your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest breathing in his scent and relishing in the warmth while you can. you’re sure you’ll wake up soon but the scent of his detergent and something that’s just him is starting to seem real. rafe breathes out in relief as he hugs you back properly and he can feel tears against his chest. at least now he can comfort you, if he hugs you long enough you’ll stop right?

“i’m sorry.” you say it again, rafe clicks his tongue at your words, they’re muffled and said into his chest but he hears them still. you’re so small in his arms now, curves and soft skin make you feel fragile in his hold and he curls around you protectively, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as his arms hold your upper back.

“why are you apologizing?” his voice is softer now and murmured into your ear and you cry more, your heart breaking at the sound. the edge dulled, if he cuts you now it will be worse, you won’t survive it. he feels you shake in his arms and he tightens them instinctively, you might just hold your breath until the illusion shatters. until he leaves you.

“i don’t know, i feel like i must have done something wrong for you to be mad at me.” the admission breaks you in two, you’d been holding onto it for years, the guilt of wronging your best friend, the frustration of not knowing what you did. you clutch the worn cotton of his shirt, the fabric presses against your fingertips like it might just be real.

“you’re forgiven, you've always been forgiven, i'm just mad at myself.” the words are a relief and a burden, you hate that he blames himself, for what you’re not entirely sure but you don’t press him, you have him in your arms that is enough for now. rafe doesn’t miss the way your hands are still clenching around the material of his shirt, but you let go. you let it all go. in the face of losing him forever you let a lot of things go, you’ll be his friend forever if that’s what it takes.

“that makes zero sense, rafey.” there’s the nickname, the one you called him hundreds of times maybe even more. your voice devoid of sadness, he can hear the teasing in your tone and its familiar, welcome. he breathes out in relief when he hears it and it still lights a fire within him just like the first time you said it and he realized you might just be more than a friend. you feel the breath on the shell of your ear, this isn’t a dream but maybe you should keep pretending it is. you lean back to look at him, hands falling to your sides and he releases you, his own hands resting on your waist instead. you don’t move away, you let him and he nearly cries himself.

“yeah i know.” a small smile curls his lips and you return it tenfold, a grin taking over your face. rafe decides he’d do anything to keep you smiling instead of crying over him.

after that you and rafe slowly fall back into friendship, he helps you clean up your place and move out any damaged furniture. you get to know him again and he does the same, he hasn’t changed much. he still has this hard exterior for everyone else, one that he sheds for a select few but you know him. you know he’s still the little boy who would stop everyone’s game of tag to tie your shoelaces or sneak out and run to your place after you texted him that your parents were arguing again and you couldn’t stop crying just so he could hold you through it. ward still underestimates him and at the same time expects too much and rose still pretends he’ll leave soon enough so she can continue ignoring him.

there is a slight change to one thing though, your rafe is now absurdly, annoyingly hot. sure you’d had a crush on him in middle school, maybe even a bit more than that but you had never considered him hot. now he’s a man and when he acts like one it sends your system into shock. for instance, he carried your couch out by himself, arms straining and glistening with sweat, making you feel a bit dizzy, you blamed it on the heat and made him set it down for you to sit on, just so you didn’t have something to stare at. that didn’t work since he dragged the couch with you on it. or then when a waiter got your order wrong and proceeded to tell you that you must have misspoken, refusing to take the blame. rafe quickly shut it down asking him to remake the dish, in a way only he could without any room for arguing. you could have handled it yourself, maybe you would have been nicer about it, but knowing that you didn’t have to, that rafe would take care of it made something coil in your stomach. one time he even dropped you to class just as an excuse to get coffee with you. he’d told you to have a good day in a way that stunned you into silence. the image of him leaning over the console to open the door for you and watching you climb out had you zoned out for half of the class. you were starting to grow attached to him in a different way, something less pure and innocent than what you had always known. the fact that your place was still being restored and you were a few steps away from him every night didn’t help either.

staying at tannyhill had its pros and cons. the pros being obvious, 24/7 unfettered access to your best friend and your favorite siblings. the cons being the parents of said siblings. rose was as nice as she could be, she never fully understood your friendship with rafe and you didn’t need her to. ward, however, was unfortunately unchanged. he was out of the house most days working and when you finally did meet he made sure you knew that he was still an asshole.

“hey kiddo look at you, all grown up into a beautiful young lady! i am so happy you’re back, im sorry for not greeting you earlier. work has been keeping me out late” he gives you a warm side-hug that you accept graciously. he’d always been kind to you, rafe was the troublemaker of your duo anyways so he never had any reason to be otherwise. but you knew all the things he said to rafe, you knew how he treated him from the very beginning, so you could never really open up your heart to ward cameron. especially not when he was good at acting the perfect father in your face.

“it’s no problem ward, thank you for your hospitality.” you did mean that last part even if you didn’t particularly like him. your parents also seemed to get along with him so spoiling any kind of relationship wouldn’t help you.

“oh come on tannyhill is your home too you know that, rafe really needed you back here too. how are your folks doing?” you bristle at his words, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him. you’d forgotten how casually he disparaged your best friend.

“they’re doing well, they send their best wishes and love.” your words came out automatically, your mind on autopilot. you had to say something but the fear of disappointing your parents loomed over your head. ward knew you, he knew you would never fall out of line as long as he knew your parents.

“i’ll reach out to your father, it’s been a while since we caught up.” a silent threat, you nodded at his words turning to leave. there was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded in your chest, it screamed for you to stick up for rafe but your head relented. you were almost out of earshot of ward when you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“ward?” you called out, making sure he was still able to talk.

“yes sweetie?” his head turned toward you, warmth in his eyes. you supposed he must see the little girl who walked home with rafe hand-in-hand. you do hope he can take you seriously.

“rafe doesn’t need me, i think he just needs love and support. he’s been doing fine without me.” ward couldn’t tell you just how wrong you were. he could however parse the subtle jab sent his way.

“you were always wise beyond your years.” he says it with that smug smile you can’t read and leaves first. you’ll tell yourself you won this round but really there were no winners only one person who was losing.

rafe is none the wiser to your conversation which you take as a plus, you’d worried ward would reprimand him for what you said. you don’t talk about ward though it was never your favorite topic anyways. and you don’t talk about the five year gap, even though it keeps you up some nights.

a/n: war is over 🙏 i’m too much a softie to continue the angst + there’s only a few chaps left and we have to get freaky!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk

[yungistiny]

Selfish Waltz ═ chapter nine

[ J. YH + S. MG ]

chapter nine: theirs

╚═════════

summary: yunho had been in love with y/n since he was sixteen, not mustering up the courage to tell her until seven years later, seven years too late because his best friend just beat him to the punch.

warnings: smut, threesome, double penetration, big dick yungi, size kink, choking, spanking, just lots of smut

pairings: yungi x afab reader

genre: smut, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, romance, polyamory

word count: 5.8k

chapter eight

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The elevator ride was thick with tension, anticipation. It seemed to go by in slow motion until it finally dinged, the doors opening on their floor. Yunho dangled his keys, unlocking the apartment door and walking inside, flicking the light on in the entryway.

His blazer shrugged off his shoulders, his shoes were quickly kicked off his feet because as soon as y/n walked inside he grabbed her, pinning her to the wall, lips crashing against hers in a frenzied heated, needy kiss.

Mingi kicked his own shoes off, slamming the front door shut, locking it. His own hungry gaze watched them as he removed his glasses, sitting them on the kitchen island before walking up behind Yunho.

Y/N gasped, breathless when Yunho started to kiss down her neck, sliding her own jacket off, the material hitting the floor. Mingi slipped to the side, his lips now on hers, his hand tangling in Yunho’s hair as his best friend started unzipping her dress from the back, moaning as his tongue darted out to lick at her neck before sucking at the flesh, and gently biting it.

Mingi pulled back, leaning his forehead against y/n, both of them panting as Yunho successfully started to pull the zipper of the dress down. He trailed his other hand up to grasp the strap of the dress, Mingi letting the grip in his hair go as he stood back up to his full height.

Y/N looked back and forth between them. They suspiciously moved in sync in this situation a little too well. “You two have done this before.” She realized.

Both men shared a look, Yunho shaking his head at Mingi who rolled his eyes. “Once or twice.” He shrugged. “We were in college.”

“How do I not know about this?” Y/N was the one intrigued now. She wasn’t aware that they’d had threesomes before. They were, after all, best friends and usually told each other everything though the sex part, when it came to y/n and their side, they tended to shy away from that subject.

“How about we not talk about our old hookups right now.” Yunho changed the subject, taking the opportunity to slip y/n dress down her body, letting it pool around her feet.

Y/N was certainly not going to argue, not now. She would ask about those old hookups later though. Much later, when Yunho wasn’t dropping to his knees in front of her.

“Mingi, you should have seen the way she was crying, a fucking mess last time I was in this position.” Yunho grabbed her hips with his hands, burying his face into her cunt still hidden behind the black lace panties she had on. Soaked panties.

Mingi moved a hand to her throat, towering at her side. “Did she squirt for you?” Y/N moaned as Yunho rubbed at her clit with his nose over her panties. “She told me she never done it before.” He grinned like the cat who ate the canary. “I had her making a mess our first time. Now, I make sure of it every time.”

Yunho pulled back, looking up at them. “She almost drowned me.” His voice was deep, almost heavy and unrecognizable to himself. Fuck. He’d never been so turned on before.

Mingi grinned, almost madly, pulling y/n to him, spinning her around so her back was flush against his chest, a gasp leaving her. “Show me.” He unhooked her strapless bra that matched the panties she had on, tossing it somewhere to the side carelessly. Yunho moved to grab for her again only to move back when Mingi lifted her.

Y/N yelped in surprise when Mingi hooked his arms under her legs, holding her, spread open. Yunho stood as tall as he could on his knees, face directly at even height with her cunt now.

Mingi rested his chin on y/n shoulder, her right hand grasping to hold his arm like he would ever drop her. He watched as Yunho slid her panties off, the black lace being shoved into his pocket.

Y/N grip on Mingi’s arm tightened when Yunho’s tongue slipped into her, his nose brushing her sensitive clit as he plunged his tongue as far as he could get it, growling into her soaking cunt.

Mingi bit her neck, gently, soothing it with his tongue and tightening his hold on her when she started to try and grind against Yunho, desperate to just fuck his face and Mingi had never been so turned on before in his life.

“He’s eating your pussy so good, baby.” Mingi bit her neck, soothing it with his tongue as Yunho added two fingers into her aching cunt, sucking her clit into his mouth. He thrusted his fingers as far he could, tips hitting that perfect little spot and Yunho smirked against her.

Mingi had to tighten his grip on her as y/n started to shake in his hold, orgasm crashing through her, squirting all over Yunho who didn’t let up on his fingers fucking her through it before finally pulling them out, standing back up, meeting Mingi’s hungry gaze, wrapping his hand still covered, soaked, in y/n juices around her neck.

Y/N head was lolled to the side against Mingi who still held her, breathless, watching both men stare at each other, gazes matching dark and hungry. “Fuck…” she practically moaned when Yunho used the hand he wasn’t holding her throat with to grip Mingi’s short hair, pulling him closer over y/n shoulder, kissing him.

Yunho’s never done this before, never with Mingi, he could feel his best friend moan, almost growl into the kiss at the taste of y/n still on Yunho’s tongue. “My turn.” Mingi pulled back, slowly putting y/n back down to her feet only long enough to pull her over to the couch. “Ride my face, baby.”

Y/N and Yunho both watched him lay down, head propped against the cushioned arm at the end. Her legs felt weak, already trembling from what Yunho had given her, but the way Mingi looked up at her, hungry, reverent, lips parted in invitation, made y/n knees nearly buckle.

Yunho’s hands stayed on her waist, steadying her. “You okay?” he murmured against her ear, his voice hoarse. She nodded, still dazed, still drunk on the way they looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I just…”

“Let him take care of you,” Yunho whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before guiding her forward.

Mingi’s hands slid up her thighs as she climbed over him, warm and sure, thumbs brushing her skin with an eagerness he didn’t bother hiding. His eyes never left hers, even as she lowered herself toward his mouth.

“Fuck,” he muttered, just before his lips met her. “You’re so sweet.” Y/N gasped, hips jerking as his tongue pressed flat against her. He moaned into her like she was his favorite thing he’d ever tasted, she was, gripping her thighs tighter to pull her down, closer, until she was shaking.

Yunho sat back on the couch next to them, eyes dark, his chest still rising and falling fast. He watched Mingi devour her like he was starving, watched y/n fall apart all over again. One of his hands reached for her, threading his fingers through hers as she writhed, grounding her.

“Good girl,” Yunho said, and it was low, rough, sinful. “You’re doing so good for us.”

Y/N let out a choked moan, her body arching. Mingi groaned again beneath her, and the vibrations sent another wave of heat crashing through her.

“You’re both…” she gasped, words breaking apart. “You’re gonna ruin me.” Mingi smiled against her, then sucked hard, and she screamed. Yunho grinned, leaning in close. “That’s the point, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s fingers gripped the back of the couch, knuckles white as she tried to keep herself upright. But Mingi had no mercy, his mouth was relentless, tongue teasing, tasting, curling just right until her thighs were trembling on either side of his head.

“Fuck, Mingi…” she cried out, voice pitching high. Mingi groaned again like her voice alone turned him on, his hands guiding her hips to grind against his face just the way he liked. His name spilled from her lips again, raw and breathless.

Yunho watched like he was memorizing every twitch of her body, every desperate gasp. He shifted closer, brushing her hair off her face with a gentleness that contradicted the heat in his eyes. “You’re so pretty like this,” he whispered. “So fucking pretty when you come apart.”

“I’m…. I’m gonna…” Y/N voice broke.

Mingi gripped her hips tighter, pulling her flush against his mouth, not letting her escape even as she started to shake. He groaned again, hungry and possessive, and that was it.

Y/N shattered.

She came with a strangled cry, her whole body trembling, grinding down on Mingi’s mouth as he held her through it, licking her through every wave, every gush of her juices he was making sure lick clean. Her free hand reached blindly for Yunho, needing something to hold onto, and he caught her instantly, pulling her into his chest, anchoring her.

“Just like that,” he murmured. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

She was still shaking when Mingi finally let her go, lips slick, eyes wild with the kind of hunger that hadn’t dulled a bit. But y/n attention was already shifting, drawn helplessly to Yunho, the low rasp of his voice, the warmth of his chest under her palm, the tension in his body that betrayed how hard he was holding himself back.

She turned toward him, still catching her breath, eyes locked on his. “Yunho,” y/n whispered, crawling into his lap without hesitation, her hands already working at the waistband of his pants. “Please. I want to taste you. Let me, please.”

His jaw clenched, eyes darkening as her fingers brushed over his erection. “You don’t have to beg for it, baby,” he said, voice low and strained. “You never have to beg.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile as she sank to her knees in front of him, much like she had done Mingi all those months ago, hands tugging his pants down just enough to free him. She took her time, kissing her way up his thighs, dragging her mouth across his skin until he was twitching in her grip, breath ragged.

She licked a stripe up the length of him, eyes locked on his the whole time, reveling in the way his head tipped back, his hand tightening in her hair. She sucked the tip into her mouth, slow and deliberate, moaning as he groaned above her.

But then she stilled. Pulled back just enough to speak, her voice wrecked and full of intent. “Mingi,” she called, not looking away from Yunho, her lips brushing the head of his dick. “Let me have you too.”

There was a beat of silence, the only sound being Yunho’s harsh breathing above her. Then Mingi moved behind her, still bare and hard, voice already thick with anticipation. “You want both of us, baby?” he asked, hand trailing over the curve of her ass.

“In my mouth, Mingi.” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully at him, her voice dripping with impatience, like she couldn’t believe he even had to ask.

Yunho let out a choked breath, still clutching her hair, eyes locked on hers, dark, possessive, barely holding on. And behind her, Mingi gave a low, wrecked laugh, stepping closer.

“Greedy little thing,” he murmured, hand curling around the back of her neck as he crouched beside her, his other hand guiding himself to her lips. “Open up for me, baby.”

Y/N moaned, her mouth parting willingly as she turned her head, taking Mingi in while Yunho still throbbed in her other hand. It was filthy, hot, slick, and overwhelming, and both of them groaned as her mouth stretched around him, her tongue teasing the underside as she eased him deeper.

Yunho swore under his breath, his knuckles white where he held onto the edge of the couch. “Fuck, look at you…”

Mingi thrusted shallowly, his fingers curling into her hair beside Yunho’s. “Can’t believe you’re letting us do this. Letting us ruin you like this.”

Y/N hummed around him, her eyes fluttering shut briefly from the burn of it, the fullness, the heady rush of control and surrender all tangled together.

She moaned around Mingi, the sound vibrating against him as she turned her head slowly, keeping Yunho in her hand. She alternated between them, sucking Mingi deep, then pulling back with spit glistening on her lips to wrap her mouth around Yunho again. Each time she switched, they both groaned, low and broken, completely at her mercy.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Yunho muttered, voice hoarse, his head tipping back for a second before he forced himself to look down again. Watching her, watching how her tongue curled around him like she already knew exactly what he needed.

Mingi swore, his hips jerking slightly. “Shit, baby, just like that…… fuck…..”

She was a mess between them, spit slicking her chin, hands wrapped around both of them now, pumping what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her jaw ached, but she didn’t care. Not with the way they sounded. Not with how their thighs trembled under her touch.

Yunho reached down and wiped her cheek with his thumb, gentle despite how undone he looked. “You look so good like this. Taking us both… you were made for this, weren’t you?”

Y/N whimpered around him in response, her lips flushed and swollen, eyes glassy with lust. She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, stroking them both in her fists as she looked up at them with a smirk.

“I want to make you both come,” she whispered. “Let me?” Mingi’s voice broke. “Baby, if you keep going like that… you’re gonna get what you want real fast.”

Yunho couldn’t hold out. Not with her mouth so warm around him, her eyes locked on his like she was daring him to fall apart. His hand found the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as his hips twitched forward, shallow and desperate.

“Fuck, Y/N…..” he groaned, low and wrecked, “I’m gonna….”

She moaned like she wanted it, like she needed him to come for her, and that was all it took. Yunho’s head dropped back, eyes fluttering shut as he spilled into her mouth, hips jerking with every wave. She took it, messy and eager, letting some of it slip from the corner of her lips, her hand still stroking Mingi through it.

“Jesus,” Yunho gasped, eyes half lidded as he looked down at her again. “You’re unreal.”

And then she turned that attention back to Mingi, wrapping her lips around him again with no hesitation, hollowing her cheeks and working him with the same dizzying rhythm. Mingi’s hand gripped the back of the couch, knuckles white, head tilted back.

“Fuck….baby…just like that….” His voice cracked, his whole body tensing, and with a broken groan, he came too, spilling across her tongue and lips as she took him until the very last drop.

She pulled back slowly, licking her lips, chin shining. Wrecked and beautiful.

Yunho was already crouching, tucking himself back in before scooping her into his arms like she weighed nothing at all. “Bedroom,” he said simply, voice still gravel and rough but full of purpose.

Y/N clung to his shoulders, her body boneless and buzzing, as he carried her down the hall. Behind them, Mingi followed, still catching his breath but smiling like he was already planning round two.

Yunho didn’t pause when they reached the bedroom, he stepped right in, the low light casting shadows across the room, and dropped Y/N onto the center of the bed with a soft bounce. She let out a breathless laugh, eyes sparkling as she watched him stand at the edge of the mattress, his broad chest rising and falling, his shirt already halfway unbuttoned.

Behind him, Mingi leaned in the doorway, lips parted, eyes dragging over Y/N sprawled out like a gift. “Fuck,” he muttered, kicking off his pants the rest of the way, already hard again just from looking at her.

Yunho’s shirt hit the floor next, then his belt, the sound of the buckle unfastening sharp in the quiet room. He peeled off the rest of his clothes slowly, deliberately, like he wanted her to watch every inch of him being revealed. And she did, eyes raking over the taut lines of his body, the way his muscles flexed and rolled under his skin, the flushed tip of his dick standing proud again despite the release he’d just had.

Mingi was already stepping forward, bare and ready, his fingers brushing against Yunho’s briefly as they met at the edge of the bed. There was a beat of shared heat in their gazes, an unspoken current between them before they turned their full attention to her.

“Lay back,” Yunho said, voice low and firm. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Y/N obeyed, heart racing, eyes flicking between the two of them, two gorgeous, naked men, looking at her like she was theirs. And she was.

Mingi stepped closer to the bed, his hand ghosting along Y/N’s calf as she lay back for them, eyes wide and body still buzzing. But instead of climbing onto the mattress, he grinned, slow, a little wicked and leaned down to press a kiss to her knee.

“I wanna watch him take you first,” he said, voice low and thick with desire, eyes flicking up to meet hers, then Yunho’s. “Right in front of my mirror.”

Yunho’s brow arched, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Of course you do,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it, just a flash of excitement in his gaze as he turned toward the full length mirror leaning against the far wall. The same mirror Mingi always used when picking out his jewelry, adjusting his shirt sleeves, and ducking y/n in front of. The same mirror where, more than once, he’d imagined this exact thing.

“You want her to see too?” Yunho asked, looking over his shoulder at Mingi, then down at Y/N, who was already pushing herself up onto shaky elbows, lips parted in breathless curiosity.

Mingi nodded, backing up and climbing onto the bed, settling against the pillows with a lazy sprawl. One hand stroked slowly over his dick as he watched, eyes locked on them with a hunger that sent a fresh shiver through y/n. “I want her to see how good she looks with you inside her. I want her to see your face when she falls apart.”

Yunho’s eyes darkened. He reached for y/n, strong hands guiding her off the bed and over to the mirror. “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me show you.”

He stood behind her, both of them facing their reflections. Her eyes flicked up to meet his in the mirror, already wide with anticipation, and he kissed the side of her neck, one hand splaying over her stomach to hold her steady. She could feel the weight of Mingi’s gaze from the bed, see the slow stroke of his hand in the corner of her vision, and it only made her tremble more.

Yunho caught her eyes again, voice a soft command against her ear. “Watch.” His hand slid down, between her legs, fingers already familiar and confident as he teased her, slow, gentle strokes that made her knees wobble. “Look how wet you still are,” he murmured, voice pure heat in her ear. “You ready for me again, baby?”

She nodded, breath catching, her eyes locked on the mirror as he lined himself up behind her. “Please,” she whispered, reaching back to anchor herself on his thigh. “I want to see you.”

Yunho didn’t make her wait.

He pushed in slowly, watching the way her lips parted in a gasp, the way her eyes fluttered half shut before she forced them open again. “Eyes on me,” he growled gently, rocking his hips forward until he was buried to the hilt. “That’s it. Watch me make you mine.”

Behind them, Mingi let out a low groan, his pace picking up as he watched her fall apart in real time, bent forward just enough for her hands to brace on the mirror’s edge, her body arching back into Yunho’s thrusts, her mouth falling open in a breathless moan.

“You look so good like this,” Mingi said, his voice thick and reverent. “Taking him so well, baby. You like watching him fuck you in my mirror?”

Y/N nodded, eyes glassy in the reflection, lips trembling. “Y…. Yes….” she gasped, her voice breaking on a moan as Yunho reached up, fingers curling around her throat just enough to keep her gaze forward.

“Touch yourself for us,” Yunho murmured against her ear. “Let him see how desperate you are.”

She obeyed without hesitation, fingers slipping between her legs to circle her clit as Yunho thrust into her harder, deeper. The mirror fogged slightly with their breath, the rhythm of their bodies relentless now, the sounds of skin and moans filling the room.

Mingi was panting, his hand working faster. “God, look at you,” he breathed. “You gonna come, baby? Gonna let Yunho make you come while you look me in the eyes?”

She nodded again, crying out as the tension inside her snapped, her legs shaking, her hand faltering as her orgasm crashed over her. Yunho held her through it, thrusting her through every wave, watching the reflection of her body tremble, her eyes flutter, her lips fall open in ecstasy.

Only when she sagged against him, boneless and flushed and gasping, did he finally slow.

But he wasn’t done.

And neither was Mingi.

Yunho’s breath was still ragged as he eased out of her, arms wrapping around her trembling frame. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, soft now, tender, before lifting her with practiced ease. She melted into him, boneless and spent, her head dropping against his shoulder.

Mingi watched from the bed, eyes blazing and fist tight around himself. His chest heaved, the veins in his arms stark with tension. But he waited, waited as Yunho carried her over, gently laying her down onto the cool sheets.

Y/N reached for Mingi instantly.

“I want both of you,” she whispered, voice hoarse with need, her fingers curling into Mingi’s wrist. “Please.”

Yunho looked at Mingi, something unspoken passing between them. And Mingi finally moved.

“Are you sure, baby?” he asked, crawling toward her, eyes scanning her face.

She nodded. “I can take it. I want to.”

Mingi leaned in, kissed her slowly, deeply, and Yunho kissed down her shoulder, her ribs, settling between her legs to press one last kiss against her inner thigh. They moved around her with ease, like they’d done this a thousand times in dreams but were only now finally touching reality.

Mingi positioned himself behind her, kneeling between her legs, lifting her hips into his lap while Yunho moved to her front, brushing hair from her face.

“We’ll go slow,” Yunho murmured, voice like warm silk. “We’ll take care of you.”

Y/N nodded again, heart pounding, hands finding both of theirs.

“Together,” she whispered.

And they gave her everything.

Yunho kissed her, slow and deep, his hand gently cradling her cheek as Mingi aligned himself behind her. She could feel the tremble in her own thighs, the stretch of her body still sensitive, still tingling from Yunho.

Mingi leaned forward, his mouth at her ear. “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving her time, one hand gripping her hip and the other steadying himself on the mattress beside her. She gasped softly into Yunho’s mouth, her body tightening, stretching around the second intrusion, but never pulling away. Mingi groaned low in his throat, the sound deep and raw against her skin.

Yunho murmured to her the whole time, kissing her jaw, her cheek, brushing hair from her damp forehead. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. So fucking perfect for us.” His voice broke a little, the feel of himself and Mingi rubbing against each other while buried inside her was almost too much.

Once Mingi was fully seated behind her, his hips flush with hers, he stilled, letting her adjust, letting her feel the weight of both of them, Yunho in front of her, Mingi behind, wrapped around her like twin flames devouring the same matchstick.

“Move,” she whispered, breath hitching, “please.”

Mingi rolled his hips back first, a slow grind that had her eyes fluttering shut. Yunho met the rhythm, their movements synchronized, careful, deliberate. Every thrust, every shift, surrounded her with heat and pressure and love so thick she could hardly breathe.

Her moans filled the room, soft at first, then louder, messier as pleasure licked up her spine. She clung to Yunho’s shoulders, nails digging in, head dropping to his chest. Mingi’s hands were on her hips, his breath hot against the back of her neck.

“You feel everything?” Yunho whispered, voice shaking as he fought for control. “You’re ours like this.”

“Only yours,” she breathed. “Always.”

They moved in perfect rhythm, like they’d done this a hundred times before, but this was the first. The first time all three of them were this close, this bare, this intertwined.

Y/N couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. Mingi behind her, thick and deep, his hand splayed across her stomach to hold her steady as his hips met hers again and again. Yunho anove her, cradling her face, his own body trembling as she clenched around him with every thrust.

They were both murmuring to her, different words, but the same meaning. Praise, devotion, need. Her name, like a prayer passed between them.

Her thighs were shaking, body trembling from the pressure building in her core, so full she couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but feel. Her hands scrambled for something to hold onto, Yunho’s chest, Mingi’s wrist, anything to anchor herself.

“Don’t stop,” she choked out, voice raw. “Please don’t stop.”

“We won’t, baby,” Mingi promised, his voice nearly breaking. “We’re right here.”

Yunho lifted his head, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let go for us. Come on, baby, want to feel you lose it.”

And that was all it took.

Her body snapped like a wire pulled too tight, heat flooding her limbs, her vision white hot as the orgasm tore through her, back arching, mouth dropping open in a silent cry. She felt herself pulse around them both, a helpless, overwhelmed mess in their arms.

Mingi groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he spilled into her, fingers digging into her skin. Yunho followed just a breath later, the broken sound he made as he came right against her ear sending another wave of shivers through her.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of panting. Their bodies tangled, skin slick, limbs heavy.

Yunho was the first to move, gently guiding himself out of her, moving y/n into the sheets after pulling her off Mingi. She winced a little from the sensitivity, and Mingi caught it immediately, brushing her hair back.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse but soft. “We’ve got you.”

Yunho disappeared for a second, only to return with a warm cloth, cleaning her up carefully, whispering little apologies as he did, even though she hadn’t said a word. Mingi pulled the blankets up, wrapping her in warmth, tucking her between their bodies like she was something sacred.

She was.

Yunho pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You okay?” She nodded, eyes glassy and tired, but smiling. “More than okay.”

Mingi chuckled quietly and kissed the back of her neck. “Told you we’d take care of you.”

She curled into them both, letting her fingers brush over Yunho’s arm, then down to Mingi’s thigh. “Next time,” she whispered, “I want to ride you both.”

Yunho groaned against her skin. Mingi laughed.

But neither of them said no.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The early morning light crept in through the edges of Mingi’s curtains, soft and golden, warming the tangle of limbs across the bed. It was quiet, the kind of hush that only comes just after dawn, when even the birds haven’t fully committed to the day.

Mingi stirred first, still half dreaming, a lazy smile on his face as he rolled over toward the center of the bed. He expected warmth. Skin. Maybe one of them draped over him.

What he didn’t expect was the soft, breathy whimper that escaped just inches from his ear.

His eyes fluttered open.

And what a sight to wake up to.

Yunho lay on his back, head turned slightly toward Mingi, his hands fisting the sheets. Y/N was straddling him, slow and steady, her bare body lit by the morning sun like a dream come to life. Her hips moved in lazy circles, teasing, deliberate, like she wasn’t in any rush, like she just wanted to feel him deeper.

Mingi’s mouth went dry.

Yunho’s eyes were half lidded, completely wrecked even in the softness of the morning. His lips parted as y/n rocked down harder, and he let out a low moan, one of the ones that made Mingi twitch under the sheets.

Y/N turned her head slowly, locking eyes with Mingi as if she’d known he was awake all along. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, eyes dark and playful.

“Good morning,” she whispered, voice wrecked and sweet.

Mingi let out a slow breath, sheets falling away from his chest as he sat up slightly, leaning back on his elbows to watch her move. “You’re really gonna do this without me?” he asked, voice rough from sleep and want. Pouting.

Yunho let out a strangled sound beneath her.

Y/N rolled her hips again, leaning down to press a kiss to Yunho’s jaw before glancing at Mingi. “I figured you’d wake up eventually.”

Mingi’s hand slid under the blankets, eyes locked on where they were joined. “Next time,” he said, voice low, “wake me up with your mouth first.”

Y/N grinned, hips never slowing. “Deal.”

Yunho groaned beneath her, caught between bliss and torture. “You two are going to kill me.”

Mingi leaned in, finally pressing a kiss to Yunho’s shoulder. “Not before we ruin you first.”

Yunho’s hands finally moved, trailing up y/n sides, gripping her hips tightly as she bounced a little harder now, clearly spurred on by Mingi’s growing hunger just a few inches away.

“You look so good like this,” Mingi murmured, voice darker now, hand moving beneath the covers as he stroked himself slowly. “Taking him like he was made for you.”

Y/N bit her lip, hair falling into her face as she glanced back at him, breath hitching when Yunho thrusted up harder beneath her, making her cry out.

“She was made for me,” Yunho growled, his control starting to unravel. “But I don’t mind sharing.”

“Damn right you don’t,” Mingi muttered, already tossing the covers aside. He crawled toward them, lazy but hungry, until he was kneeling behind y/n. His hands ghosted up her back, slipping into her hair to tilt her head back gently as she continued to ride Yunho. “You ready for me, baby?”

She nodded breathlessly, her body trembling from the double stimulation, Yunho deep inside her, Mingi’s fingers now trailing down between her thighs again.

Yunho groaned beneath her, watching the two of them with blown pupils and flushed skin. “She can take us both again. She was perfect last night.”

“I know,” Mingi breathed, fingers stroking between her folds before he slid one inside alongside Yunho’s dick, teasing her, testing her. “Can you do it again, sweetheart?”

Y/N whimpered, nodding fervently, her body already clenching around both of them. “Please.” She was almost begging.

Yunho sat up slightly, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her shoulder, his voice a low rasp. “You’re perfect.”

And as Mingi eased himself into place behind her, pushing in slowly, y/n let out a cry of pleasure, her hands flying to Yunho’s chest for balance. They moved together with practiced rhythm, every thrust coordinated, bodies slick and warm and desperate.

It wasn’t long before her head was thrown back, both of them working her open and raw, every nerve ending sparking. Mingi grunted against her shoulder, Yunho’s moans vibrated beneath her palms.

“Look at me,” Yunho whispered, hand cradling her jaw as she writhed between them. “Look at us in the mirror.”

And she did, catching a glimpse of their tangled bodies, Mingi’s mouth on her neck, Yunho’s hands wrapped around her waist, her body suspended between them like they were made to hold her.

It was messy, intense, too much and not enough all at once.

And they couldn’t stop.

Yunho’s grip tightened on her waist, fingers digging in like he didn’t trust the moment to be real unless he was holding her hard enough to bruise. His breath was hot against her shoulder, his pace relentless, like he was chasing something he didn’t know how to name.

Mingi’s mouth never left her neck, his teeth grazing skin he’d already marked the night before, his hands roaming over every inch of her they could reach, possessive, reverent.

Their rhythm was chaotic and perfect, y/n caught between them like a prayer. She whimpered, head falling back onto Mingi’s shoulder, her body overwhelmed by the stretch, the heat, the utter fullness of having them both. They moved with her, around her, for her.

“God, baby,” Yunho groaned, watching her fall apart all over again, her eyes fluttering, lips parted, completely undone. “You feel like heaven.”

“Look at her,” Mingi murmured, voice rough against her skin. “So fucking beautiful. Taking both of us like she was made for it.”

Y/N’s hand scrambled for something to hold, Yunho’s shoulder, Mingi’s thigh, the sheets, anything to anchor her. Her moans broke apart into gasps, pleasure cresting again, too fast, too much, but she didn’t want to slow down. She didn’t want it to stop.

She wanted all of it.

Their names spilled from her lips like a mantra, like a promise.

And when she came again, shaking, breathless, clinging to them like she might fall apart, they were right there with her. Yunho following with a guttural groan, Mingi just behind him, his arms locked tight around her as they collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, sweat, and desperate, lingering kisses.

The room went still.

The only sound left was their heavy breathing and the low hum of the morning outside.

Y/N didn’t move right away. Neither did they.

She was sandwiched between them, warm and held and completely wrecked, her body humming, her soul full. Yunho’s fingers brushed her hair back from her face. Mingi’s lips pressed into her shoulder like a silent vow.

None of them said a word.

They didn’t need to.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

tag list: @patchofblue @sungjin-spoon-hands @peachyyunhoe @oddin4ry @nakiiko @neobitch127

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[honeyncherry]

can we get a secret of us blurb - first date as an official couple 😁

this strayed from just a blurb....

part of the sou universe but can be read as a standalone

content fluff, little angst?

જ⁀➴°⋆

Joe made a promise to himself the day he realized you two weren’t just friends anymore. A quiet, stubborn kind of vow that no one else heard, but that lived loud inside him.

If he was going to do this—really do this—he was going to do it right. You were going to get the best of him, whether you realized it or not.

And that went for everything: the way he spoke to you when you were upset, the way he learned to hold your hand when his instinct was to pull away, the way he paid attention to the small things you thought no one noticed.

And most of all: dates.

Because as strange as it sounded, even after months of officially being together, you’d never actually had a first date.

Every time the two of you went out to dinner, Joe would shoot down the label before you could even offer it. “It’s not a date,” he’d say casually, eyes flicking across the table. “It’s just food.” Same with breakfast. Same with lunch. Same when he picked you up for a party, or invited you to come to some event he didn’t want to go to alone.

Even those quiet nights spent building Lego sets at his kitchen table, stretched out on the couch watching movies—none of it, he said, was a date.

And at first… it messed with your head.

You tried not to let it get to you, but the doubt crept in anyway. You started wondering if maybe he wasn’t as serious as he claimed to be. If maybe this was just convenient for him. Maybe he was still figuring everything out, and you were just there.

But then you’d remember. This was Joe. Your Joe.

The one who had spent over a month trying to win you back and who showed up when it was pouring outside because he knew storms made you anxious. Who sent you Spotify links at midnight because he heard a lyric that made him think of you and who kept a little container of your favorite necessities in his glove box just in case you forgot any.

Joe wouldn’t just forget a first date. Not unless there was a reason.

And the reason, as it turned out, came wrapped in morning light and passport stamps.

It wasn’t long after the season ended that he brought it up offhandedly at first, like it was just a casual thought he’d been tossing around. A little trip, he said. Just the two of you in somewhere new. Somewhere where the most important part of his day could be you.

So here you were, months later, in the French countryside where the air smelled like earth and sugar and the perfume of whatever was blooming outside the little cottage window.

The house Joe booked was something out of a magazine with stone walls warmed by decades of sun, ivy curling along the shutters, and a terrace that opened to an endless field of wispy grass and wildflowers. 

An older couple had met you at the gate with the keys. Madame and Monsieur something-or-other, all soft smiles and thick accents, practically glowing with pride over the home they’d restored themselves.

They only spoke a little English, but it didn’t matter much; their excitement was clear enough. And you were pretty sure the woman kissed both of Joe’s cheeks just for being pretty.

It was the kind of town where time moves slow. You filled your days with nothing in particular—wandering cobblestone streets, buying fresh fruit from farmers’ stands, arguing about who could make the better picnic, and reading on the terrace until the sun dipped low. You wore sundresses every day, mostly because Joe couldn’t shut up about them.

It was barely mid-morning when you got back to the cottage, the sun still low enough that the light outside the windows was more honey than gold. You’d walked to the bakery alone that morning while Joe showered, and came back with a warm paper bag tucked against your chest filled with all sorts of pastries (specifically those little fruit tarts Joe couldn’t shut up about).

He was at the kitchen table when you walked in, reading glasses perched low on his nose as he scrolled slowly through the local newspaper like he understood more than just the headlines.

You set the pastries down in front of him and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. He reached for your wrist instinctively, pressing a quick kiss there too. “Good haul?” 

“Mmhmm,” you said, turning and reaching for the pitcher of juice on the table. “The bakery lady threw in an extra one cause she said she missed you.”

Joe smiled at that, but something didn’t quite reach his eyes. You didn’t catch it until you turned back around and saw him fidgeting with the corner of the newspaper, eyes not really focused anymore.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, like he was trying to beat himself to it before he changed his mind. “I was thinking maybe we could, like… go out?”

“Go out?”

Joe nodded, slow, but his hand came up to the back of his neck, raking through his still-damp hair like he wasn’t sure this had been a good idea.

“Like… actually out,” he said.

He didn’t look at you when he said it, just kept his eyes on the edge of the table like it might open up and swallow him if he gave it enough time. And suddenly, the fidgeting made sense. The paper. The stiffness behind his smile when you joked about the bakery lady.

Joe glanced up at you finally, like he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I know I’ve been kind of a dick about it,” he said, smiling faintly. “Saying none of our stuff was a date. But I think I just wanted to wait until it could be… this.”

The juice pitcher landed on the table with a soft thud, and a second later you were crawling into his lap, pastry bag rustling from its spot on the table. His arms caught you easily, even if he didn’t expect it.

He let out a soft huff of breath, all relief and crooked affection.

“So is that a yes?” he asked, voice still a little hesitant.

You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, heart buzzing in your chest.

“Joe,” you said, smile blooming slow across your face, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me on a date for months.”

He grinned at that, hands settling more comfortably around your waist, like he was finally letting himself relax. You kissed him once and then pulled back with a raised brow.

“Okay, so… when is this date?”

“Today.”

“Today?”

Joe nodded, smug now. “Whole thing’s already planned.”

Your heart flipped—just a little. “Wait, seriously?”

“I’ve got an itinerary in my head and everything. Like a real boyfriend.”

You snorted. “You gonna laminate it?”

“If you keep making fun of me, I will.”

You pressed your forehead lightly against his, still smiling. “What do I wear?”

He paused, pretending to think, then looked you over with exaggerated consideration. “One of your pretty dresses.”

You gave him a look. “That’s your guidance?”

“Yup.”

So you changed. You tied your hair back and slipped into one of the dresses he liked—the soft white one with delicate lace detailing—and tried not to overthink what kind of day required a dress and trust and no real answers.

When you stepped into the living room, he was already waiting by the door.

You froze for a second longer than you meant to.

Joe looked like he’d come straight from one of his shoots. White polo button-up with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, open at the collar. Tan linen shorts that sat perfectly at his hips, showing off the kind of tan and muscle that made you forget what you were about to say.

The smile that pulled at his mouth as you began walking towards him was soft enough for your own smile to bloom in return, involuntary and pulled straight from your chest.

When you reached him, he took your hand in his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles once, then drifted upward, his touch trailing up the length of your arm until it reached your shoulder. He caught the thin strap of your dress between two fingers and twisted it gently.

“You look nice,” you said, eyes lingering on the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

He grinned at that, something playful flickering behind his eyes. “I like the dress,” he murmured, dipping his head to press a kiss on your shoulder, lips grazing bare skin.

Before you could say anything, he let his hand fall again, fingers finding yours like he didn’t need to look to know where they belonged. “C’mon,” he said quietly, tugging you toward the door. “You’re gonna like this.”

The first stop was a vineyard, hidden behind a long gravel road and a wooden gate that creaked when you pushed it open. You would’ve missed it if he hadn’t turned so confidently off the main road, like he’d been there a dozen times before.

An older woman named Colette met you at the entrance, sunhat tilted low and linen apron cinched tight. She greeted you like she’d been waiting all morning, pressing a glass of chilled wine into your hand and setting a tray of fresh fruit between you before you even sat down. Her English was scattered, but her smile was fluent—her flirting with Joe even more so.

She called him chéri and touched his arm whenever she laughed, and you did your best not to laugh at it. Joe just shrugged, met your eye across the table, and muttered, “French women are dangerous.”

You stayed there almost an hour, wandering through the vines with your sandals in one hand and your wine glass in the other. Everything felt like time had folded in on itself just for the two of you. Birdsong, the rustle of leaves, the soft clink of your glasses as they brushed now and then. Your fingers grazed a few times too—accidental, maybe. Maybe not. 

You talked about whether Colette actually liked Joe or just flirted with everyone, how many bottles you could legally fit in your suitcase, and whether or not the wine actually tasted like berries or if people were just pretending.

Joe swore his glass tasted like a candle, but when he tried yours, he actually liked it. You tasted his and called him dramatic, so he handed his glass over and took yours like it had been the plan all along.

It wasn’t the kind of place you would’ve picked from a brochure, but it was perfect. Tucked just far enough away to feel like a secret between the two of you.

And standing there with him, toes in the grass, glass in hand, you couldn’t help but think—of all the places you could’ve ended up today… this even felt exactly right.

The next stop wasn't much of a change of pace. Joe parked along a narrow street you hadn’t noticed before, somewhere near the old part of town where the buildings leaned toward each other and the windows were always open.

You wandered through stone alleyways and flower-lined staircases, stopping only when something caught your eye; a faded bookstore, a little cat asleep on a windowsill, a man sketching portraits near the fountain.

At one point, your gaze caught on a little flower stall tucked between two wooden shutters. You didn’t say anything or even look again, but a few paces later, you realized Joe wasn’t beside you anymore. He was already at the stand, handing over a bill with a quiet smile and accepting the wrapped bouquet. Without second guessing or needing to ask, he’d picked one with your favorite flowers tucked in.

He doubled back and handed it to you like it was nothing, fingers brushing yours before turning and continuing on the path. You lingered for a second, your fingers curling gently around the paper wrap as you brought the flowers to your nose.

The scent was soft and familiar, a little earthy. When you looked up, you caught Joe watching you over his shoulder, gaze soft like he’d forgotten he was staring. He didn’t say anything, just smiled like he couldn’t help it.

You fell back into step beside him, bouquet in hand. 

The two of you didn’t talk about anything new, not really, but it felt simple in a way you could go on for hours and never run out of things to laugh about. He brought up that night back at OSU when you made him drive an hour to pick up a pie from a bakery you saw on Instagram, and you reminded him how he finished half of it before you even got there. You teased him about pretending to like rom-coms just to win you over, and he claimed (very confidently) that anyone with good taste likes Crazy, Stupid, Love.

And then the sun began to dip, soft and gold against the edge of the sky, and Joe said it was time to head back.

You thought the day was over, and you wouldn’t have complained. Of all the days you’d spent with Joe, this one already lived in a different part of your memory.

But when you turned the corner onto the back hillside of the cottage, your breath caught.

There, spread across the grass just before the slope dipped toward the trees, was a picnic blanket. The big one you’d argued about. You’d insisted on red gingham, he’d said it was cliché, but here it was anyway.

The basket beside it was half-open, chilled water and fruit peeking out from inside. A little folded note rested in the corner, anchored down with a smooth stone.

You looked at him, but he just stood there with his hands in his pockets, pretending not to watch your reaction.

You sat down on the blanket and picked up the note. Your name was scrawled across the front in his handwriting—slanted, blocky, still a little unfamiliar after years of only seeing it on birthday cards or scribbled grocery lists.

Thought you deserved a real first date. Even if it took me way too long to figure out how to do it right. You mean more to me than I ever know how to say. I hope today felt as special to you as you are to me. — J

When you looked up, Joe had sat down beside you, fiddling with the edge of the basket.

“How long have you been planning this?” you asked, the words catching a little at the end. 

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes yet. “Couple weeks. Maybe longer.”

You waited.

“I remembered you said you’d never been to a vineyard,” he added, carefully setting a plate on the blanket like it required his full attention. “So I started asking around—locals, the bakery lady, even Colette in the end. Told them I wanted one that wasn’t too touristy. Something quiet. Something you’d like.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the letter.

“And the picnic?” you pressed, voice softer now. “You said it was stupid.”

“I said gingham was stupid,” he corrected, finally glancing at you again. “The picnic was always part of the plan.”

You let out a breath, half-laugh, half-relief. “You were being so annoying about it.”

“I was trying to throw you off.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and felt something in your chest shift.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said, voice quiet.

“I know,” he replied, just as softly. “But I wanted to.”

You glanced down at the letter still sitting in your lap. “It’s been the most special day.”

He smiled a little, rubbing his palm on his thigh like he needed to do something with his hands. “Yeah?” he asked, almost shy.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of quiet before he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was nothing.

“I should’ve done it sooner,” he said, eyes still on your joined hands. “I knew how much it would mean to you. I just… I didn’t wanna give you some random night and call it a date.”

You stayed still, listening.

“I wanted it to be the kind of thing you think about later,” he added, eyes flicking to yours for just a second. “Like… years from now. I want you to look back and feel how much I loved you.”

Something caught in your throat.

“I know I don’t always say stuff the right way,” he went on, his thumb brushing across your knuckles, slow and warm. “But you’re it for me. You have been. For a long time.”

You blinked hard, heart stumbling in your chest.

“Joe…”

He didn’t look away this time. “I just wanted to get it right.”

And somehow, that was what did it. Not the flowers. Not the vineyard. Not even the note.

Just that.

You reached for him without saying anything, curling your hand around the side of his face and pulling him close. You kissed him like you hadn’t already spent the whole day doing it with your eyes, and he kissed you back like he finally didn’t have to hold anything in.

When you pulled away, he was smiling again—more certain this time.

“I’m gonna keep trying to get it right for you,” he said. “Every time.”

And you knew he meant it.

[jjanuaryrain]

More DPxDC, the backstory of how Danny gets to Gotham

A story is slowly coming together in my head but I'm not sure how all the pieces fit yet. Dunno if everything I've posted will go into the same story but I'm just enjoying writing it for now. More under the cut!

Words: 3355

Danny was no stranger to unfortunate circumstances. It could be said that his life was just a series of unfortunate circumstances, actually, each slotted one after the other. This wasn’t much different. Just another piece in the long line of toppling dominoes that was his afterlife.

“Take the reading again,” Tucker demanded in his ear, voice crackly and strained through the Fenton Tech earpiece.

“He’s redone it three times now, Tucker, it’s not going to change just because–” That was Sam’s annoyed drawl from beside him, but she was cut off by Tucker’s insistent voice.

“You have to be doing it wrong. Take it again.”

Danny let his head fall back in frustration where he was hanging weightless in the air over Salem State University, but he didn’t bother arguing. If he didn’t do what Tucker asked, the dude was liable to catch a flight all the way out to Salem to do the damn readings himself. That, or program a drone to do it for him. Both of which were equally undesirable, given what happened the last time Tucker loosed an unidentified aircraft into US airspace. (A half-exploded drone and visit from Homeland Security, that’s what.)

Instead, Danny picked his head back up and dutifully punched the commands into the Foley Ectometer for the 4th time. He waited for the beeps and clicks to stop then checked the reading.

“…It’s still coming through as a 3.6, Tuck. I really don’t think Salem is a viable option.”

“Bullshit, it’s not a viable option!” His friend seethed on the other end of the line. The sounds of furious typing started up again and Danny felt the distinct urge to find a wall to slam his head against. Sam had just gotten him to knock it off. “Salem is the most haunted city in the US outside of Amity based on every metric out there! If that place doesn’t hit a 5, nowhere will.”

Well, wasn’t that just lovely news. Even Salem, Massachusetts didn’t have enough ambient ectoplasm to hit the minimum 5/10 rating, just like the half dozen other cities they’d tested. If Danny wanted to survive longer than a few weeks outside of Amity Park, he’d need to find somewhere that rated at least that. Otherwise, he’d have to spend just as much time in the Realms as he did in the land of the living. Which was not an option at the moment. Not an option at all.

“We could try Gettysburg again,” Danny suggested, once again twirling upside down in the air, but it sounded weak even to his ears. Tucker only replied with a disgusted scoff. He was still clacking away, but Danny knew it was fruitless. Danny had flown to and tested every city in America that Tucker’s ecto-seeking algorithm had come back with. So far, the highest they’d hit was an 8.1 in Pennsylvania… which had actually turned out to be a 1.8 that Danny had read upside down on accident. So Salem was their next best option, but it still fell devastatingly flat.

“Guys, it’s okay, really,” Danny tried. He floated lower toward the green space at the center of Salem’s campus and wound himself invisibly around the branches of a tree. He rested his head on one of the strong boughs and watched as a bird preened its feathers not 2 feet from his face. “I don’t need to go to college outside of Amity. I’m sure an online program will be just as–”

“Oh knock it off, Danny,” Jazz interrupted. She’d been quiet on the call so far, but Danny could occasionally hear her scribbling down notes in the background. Ever since she’d gone off to college, she couldn’t help but treat every situation as a learning experience. And notes were integral to Jazz’s learning. “I don’t care if I have to haunt the city myself – you will be attending a good, four-year college with a strong astronomy program outside of Amity Park. End of discussion.”

Yeah, right. Danny only just stopped himself from laughing in her face. ‘Outside of Amity’ was already a huge ask, but with Danny’s grades and his limited options? Asking for a ‘good four-year college’ and ‘strong astronomy program’ might as well be the same as asking for Superman himself to descend from the heavens and kiss him on the mouth.

Danny knew better than to voice that opinion to Jazz of all people, though. He could only sit through so many lectures on ‘keeping optimistic’ and ‘maintaining a positive view of the future’ before he lost it. So instead, he settled for a non-committal grunt and poked idly at a bit of fungus growing on the trunk of the tree.

“Tucker, what else have you found?” Jazz prompted when Danny didn’t say anything else.

“Well… It’s- I mean, it’s not looking good, guys,” Tuck’s tinny voice said. “We’ve burned through Savannah, St. Augustine, Portland, San Antonio. Hell, we even tried Chicago.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. Staying in Illinois wasn’t ideal, but he’d have taken it if it meant he could get out of Amity Park. That city, despite being his home, his Haunt, was going to be the death of him. And there weren’t enough ‘I’m already dead’ jokes in the world that could soften that.

“Okay,” Jazz hummed thoughtfully, ever the pragmatist. “Then what’s next?”

“That’s just it,” Tucker said with a sigh. “At this point… I don’t think there is a next.”

Well. Great.

Danny thunked his head against the trunk of the tree. When they’d started this search, he’d told himself in no uncertain terms that he would not be getting his hopes up, that this was a pipe dream at best. But somewhere along the line he’d let himself be lulled into a false sense of security by the surety his friends and sister had that there’d be some solution. Maybe not college, maybe not even outside of Illinois, but somewhere he could escape to.

Apparently not. If Tucker couldn’t find Danny somewhere suitable to live, Danny didn’t know someone who could.

The line was silent. Even Tucker’s clacking had stopped, and Danny suddenly wished he’d start up again, just to fill the silence.

Ancients, was it really so bad? Staying in Amity? He had a life there – or an afterlife, at least. He had friends, too, until they went off to college themselves. He had ghosts to chase and frenemies to brawl and his parents. Well, kind of. His parents were…

Danny sighed and relaxed the part of him that kept him solid on the branches of the tree. Tangibility sloughed off of him like dead skin and he sank through the tree toward the ground. If two of the smartest people in his life couldn’t figure out how to get him out, Danny really was starting to believe it was hopeless.

He was just about to let himself sink fully into the ground and let the dark earth envelop him when the earpiece crackled back to life.

“Y’know,” Sam said speculatively, “there is one place you haven’t tested yet.”

Danny paused his slow descent into the ground, chin just peeking out of the dirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Weeeeelll,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “It’s not the most ideal, but-”

“Sam,” Jazz cut in sharply. “You’re not suggesting where I think you are, are you?”

“What?” She asked defensively. “It’s, like, the only place guaranteed to have level 5 amounts of ambient ecto outside of Amity. It kinda seems like his only option.”

Danny perked up at that. Another city? With enough ecto for him to survive off of that Tuck and Jazz hadn’t thought of? Or maybe they had, but had decided it wasn’t a good fit. Danny pulled his body back out of the ground and settled on the grass, lifting a hand to press his comm further into his ear.

“What are you talking about, Sam? Where?”

“Sam,” Tucker echoed Jazz tentatively. “I don’t think…”

“I’m talking about Gotham.”

Silence. Did she just say…

“Gotham?” Danny repeated. He couldn’t have heard her right. She wanted him to move to Gotham? The Dread City? The Joker’s Playground? Home of the Bat? She couldn’t be serious… Right?

“Yep,” Sam said, popping her P. And shit, okay. Gotham. “Gotham U has an astronomy program and everything. And I bet we could score you a free ride, knowing the Waynes. They love a charity case.”

“Jeez, Sam,” Tucker hissed. “Blunt much?” Danny could practically hear her returning shrug.

“What, am I wrong? It’s not like Danny’s stupid, or anything, but all this ghost shit has seriously tanked his grades. With a little sob story here and a push from my parents there, though, I’m sure he’d be admitted in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, but…” Tucker started weakly. “It’s Gotham. Like, Gotham Gotham. Y’know, Most Deadly City on Earth?”

“I know what it’s called, Tuck.”

“I just mean-”

“I’ve been there a few times on my parents’ stupid gala circuit, remember?” Sam interrupted impatiently. “It’s a rough ass city to be sure, but we’ve dealt with worse. Danny’ll be fine.”

“It is more than just a ‘rough ass city,’ Sam!” That was Jazz. “We are not sending him into that lion’s den! We’ll find him somewhere safe and normal where he can–”

“Danny won’t survive somewhere safe and normal,” Sam shot back. It sounded like she was leaning into Tucker’s microphone. “That’s the whole point of this stupid ecto hunt! We have to find somewhere fucked up enough that he can live without relying on the Realms.”

“Then we’ll find somewhere! Just not a city that’s known for how dangerous and unlivable it is. I refuse to get Danny out of the frying pan just to throw him right back into a fire!”

Sam scoffed. “Really, Jazz? You think Amity isn’t the fire? You think he’s any safer staying in that house?”

Danny cringed and the line went silent for a moment.

“Look, I know it’s been really bad recently,” Jazz started, but Tucker cut her off.

“You kinda don’t, though.”

“...What?”

“Like, I know we’ve been updating you and everything, but it’s different. Being here.”

“What do you mean? Different how?”

“Tuck…” Danny protested weakly. His best friend ignored him.

“I mean, your parents have always been odd, sure. But like, manageably odd, y’know? But when Phantom broke the portal…” Danny winced, rubbing his neck. “I don’t know. They kinda lost it. And now they just seem…” The line was quiet for a moment as Tucker searched for the word.

“Unwell,” Sam supplied. Her tone was grave. Tucker hummed in agreement. “Seriously, Jazz. He needs out of there.”

“I… Danny? Is that true?”

“It’s…” Danny started, but quickly trailed off. What was there to say? The last few months since he’d wrecked the portal had been… rough. He hadn’t thought it possible, but in recent weeks his parents had become even more radical. Their hate for Phantom had reached vitriolic levels, to the point that they seemed incapable of thinking about anything else. Forget eating, forget researching, forget Danny. The only thing that mattered anymore was hunting down the ghost that wrecked their life’s work.

Danny never wanted to learn what would happen if they learned that that ghost slept in the room next door.

“...not great,” is what Danny eventually settled on.

The line was silent in the wake of that non answer.

Danny flopped back on the lush March grass and stared up at the cloudless sky spanning above him. If he focused, he thought he could make out Venus burning through the blue. There were no other stars to be seen at this time of day.

“You really think Gotham would have enough ecto for me?” Danny asked into the void. He scratched absently at his neck and the gently writhing lichtenberg scars there. Sure, he’d heard horror stories of the atrocities that went on in Gotham, but Amity Park had literally been dragged into hell not a month ago. If he was gonna move somewhere that even had a chance at being as haunted as Amity, Gotham probably was it.

There was an icy spark behind his ribs at the thought of moving there, and he rubbed at his chest. No one willingly moved to Gotham.

“I mean, if you’re worried about the levels of ecto,” Sam said eventually, much quieter, “why not go check? New Jersey is just down the coast from Massachusetts, isn’t it?”

It was. And that was… not a terrible suggestion. Get a reading, see if it was worth it to spend the time wrapping his mind around the idea that moving to Gotham was a good idea. See if it was worth getting his hopes up again.

“I mean, you could make it there before dark if you left now,” Tucker added, picking up his typing once more. “Crime reports are down 68% during the day. You wouldn’t even be visible to cameras, especially if you stay invisible. They don’t have that type of tech there.”

Well. That kind of decided it then, didn’t it?

The cold spark behind his ribs burned a little brighter.

“Alright,” Danny said, drifting back up into the sky. There was an itching tug at his core, and he drifted toward where it led him toward the south. “I’ll head there now, then. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Danny,” Jazz said again, quiet but intense. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I know you don’t Jazz,” he said as gently as he could. The chill was increasing in strength as he picked up speed and raced for the border to Rhode Island. “But… If it’s my ticket out of Amity?” Ancients, the words felt almost giddy in his mouth. Out of Amity Park. How long had he been dreaming of that? “I have to take it. Don’t you think?”

The line was silent for a long time - long enough that Danny was nearly to the border by the time Jazz replied.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Just… be safe, okay?”

“Of course I will,” he promised. But even then, when everything was still okay, the words rang hollow and untrue.

⋆˖⁺⊹₊⋆✧⋆₊⊹⁺˖⋆

Ectoplasm made a different sound than water did when it hit the ground, Danny was learning. The endless drip, drip, drip was different from the sound a leaky faucet made. It was thicker and more robust; more like a plop than a plink. The sound of it was driving him mad. It was also the one of the only things tethering him to sanity.

Danny had long since given up trying to reconcile the dualities of this place. Time passed in a hazy-quick blur, yet seconds dragged on for hours; his body pulsed with life, yet they cut him open as if he were dead; he had no mouth, yet he was always, always screaming.

Hah. A reference. Good one.

Those little thoughts helped him keep hold of his sanity, too. Little snatches of memories from his life before… this. A mindless reference here, the fleeting thought of someone’s face there. All of it grounded him, no matter how slight. So what if he couldn’t remember what he was referencing or who he was seeing? All that mattered was he’d held onto enough of himself to do so in the first place.

The plop, plop, plop of his ectoplasm on the floor slowed to a stop. He would have groaned with relief if he had any capability to do so. The muzzle affixed to his jaw and over the bridge of his nose assured that he did not. He shifted slightly in his restraints upon the cold surgical table.

Tonight’s the night, he thought sluggishly. The doctors had left minutes ago, and unlike the past few weeks, Danny had clung desperately to consciousness in their absence. The researchers had used to work in shifts so that someone was dissecting working on him at all times, but they’d recently pared down to a single team that required breaks to eat and sleep. He didn’t care enough to wonder why. He just knew it gave him a sliver of a chance.

That was all he needed.

The increase in rest Danny had been afforded these past few weeks hadn’t left him unaffected. Rather, he was brimming with an amount of energy he hadn’t felt in months. He felt fully lucid and aware for the first time in Ancients know how long, and he wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. No, he’d waited and waited for all those extra hours of rest to start to add up and now… Now it was time for his patience to pay off.

Danny stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. If this didn’t work, he’d have to wait another few weeks to work up the energy again. He closed his eyes and centered his breathing. Then, with an internal cry, Danny wrenched his transformation from the depths of his shrunken, emaciated core.

It felt like he was rending himself in two, like he was being torn apart from within and born anew. Twin beams of light reflected against the sterile white ceiling, and all at once the transformation took hold. All at once, Danny was shoved back into his aching, all-too-human body and left panting on the icy metal. It was the most glorious feeling in the world.

It took so little effort to squeeze his hands out of his ecto-resistant restraints, to roll off the side of the table and collapse on the floor with a dull thud. The pain of the impact rocked through him, but he didn’t have the mind to care. Tears leaked out of his eyes, once again clear liquid instead of neon ectoplasm, and his chest shook with hysterical, silent sobs.

He was human again. He- He was a person, just like he’d insisted and sobbed for hours upon first arriving here. A fact that the doctors had ignored in favor of muzzling his cries so they could carry on with their experiments in peace.

At the thought, Danny hoisted himself into a sitting position and scrabbled, half feral, at the latch that kept the mask affixed to his face. His fingers were stiff and ineffectual from being broken and pinned down into uselessness long ago, however, and nothing he did could make the wretched thing budge.

Danny dropped his head into his hands and cried.

His tears dripped through his fingers and into the rapidly diminishing puddle of ectoplasm he was sitting in. His body was already trying to sluggishly heal itself using that which had bled off him a few scant hours ago, and before long he was sitting on dry ground. He sniffed and looked up.

Alright, it was time to go. Sitting around wallowing wouldn’t get him anywhere. What he needed to do was get out. The recouping of his ectoplasm along with the extra rest he’d been stockpiling meant he was still reeling with unprecedented energy. He was well aware a good amount of it was adrenaline, but that just meant he had to work quickly.

Danny pushed himself to his feet. He tilted precariously before he managed to right himself with one hand on the cold surgical table. So cold, even with his ectoplasm leaking all over it. He stumbled over to the wall that controlled the Ghost Shield, to the glowing button that had ruled his life for the past uncountable days.

With feral glee, he slammed his human fist into it. The apparatus gave an electronic whine, and then the green glow dulled to gray and the Ghost Shield surrounding the lab fizzled out of existence.

Danny had never felt such relief.Alarms blared to life, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered, except the bliss that was transforming into his ghost form without any expectation of pain, without any fear. He was free. Without a backward glance, Danny hauled up his intangibility and rocketed through the ceiling of the lab and into the open expanse of the night sky.

[missbellie]

The Afterparty-B.E

Synopsis: Two childhood friends, separated by fame and time, meet again at an afterparty. The encounter is electric, filled with nostalgia, unresolved tension, and the ghosts of a past long buried. As they reconnect, old feelings resurface, and they share a slow, lingering kiss that brings them back to a place they thought they’d lost. Amid the flashing lights and crowded rooms, they rediscover each other, and with one whispered question, they make a promise to not let go again.

Pair: B.e x F!Reader

Warnigs: none?

Words: 10,5k

Style: Fanfic | Imagine | Headcanons

Credits: @cafekitsune

The place smells like expensive whiskey and cologne, a mix of luxury and recklessness. The lights flicker in warm shades, shadows dancing across the walls as bodies move to the deep bass of the music. You’ve been to parties like this before—where everyone is too famous to seem impressed, too used to the extravagance to care.

But this one is different.

Because Billie is here.

You knew it the moment you stepped inside. Before seeing her, before hearing her laughter cutting through the low hum of conversations, you felt it. Like your body still recognized her presence, despite the years apart.

And then you see her.

She’s leaning against the bar, a half-empty glass in her hand, her fingers tracing lazy circles around the rim. A small crowd surrounds her, laughing at something she just said. Her hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, and there’s something about the way she tilts her head, the way she bites her lip between sentences, that sends you spiraling back into memories you thought you’d buried.

Years. Years of only seeing her in magazine covers, award show speeches, and songs that felt too familiar to be coincidences. But now, she’s here. Real. Just a few steps away.

And she sees you.

The moment her gaze locks onto yours, time slows for a fraction of a second. A silent acknowledgment. A weight neither of you expected to feel so heavily.

Then, just as quickly, she looks away.

The spark ignites deep in your chest, the undeniable electricity that only exists between two people who were once everything to each other—and then, suddenly, nothing.

"Hello? Are you still with me?"

Gracie’s voice pulls you out of your trance, grounding you back in the moment.

"Yeah, sorry… What were you saying?" You turn your attention back to the short-haired girl beside you, catching the teasing smirk on her lips.

"What?"

Gracie raises an eyebrow, amused. "Why don’t you just go talk to her? You two keep staring at each other but won’t say a word."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "We’re not staring at each other."

Gracie’s smirk widens. "Mhm. Right."

You exhale, resisting the urge to glance in Billie’s direction again.

But you feel her.

Like a gravitational pull that never really faded.

It was a difficult mission not to look at the girl all the time, especially seeing her in your peripheral vision everywhere you go-or hearing her laugh behind you as if she wanted to be heard.

Gracie sighs dramatically, crossing her arms as she stares at her drink. "You know, I’m not a big fan of unresolved movie scenes. You should go talk to her."

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "And say what? ‘Hey, Billie, long time no see! Remember me? That childhood best friend you forgot when you got famous?’ Yeah, great idea, Gracie."

She rolls her eyes. "You two write songs about pain and nostalgia all the time, but in real life, you run from it like teenagers at a school dance. Grow up."

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Gracie is already standing up, adjusting the hem of her dress like she’s about to lead a revolution.

"Gracie, no!"

But it’s too late. Anxiety tightens around your chest as you watch her weave through the crowd with all the confidence in the world, heading straight toward Billie as if she’s on a sacred mission. The group around Billie makes space without question when Gracie approaches, a conspiratorial smile on her lips.

Billie greets her, leaning in slightly to hear what she’s saying over the loud music. You see Gracie gesture in your direction, and your heart skips a beat.

Then, Billie turns.

Her eyes meet yours again, and this time, there’s no escape. The music around you dulls, the faces of people blur into irrelevance. It’s like being pulled back in time—two kids in a backyard, whispering secrets under a sky full of stars. Only now, there are years between you, a distance forged by success, by busy lives, by those damn packed schedules.

Billie tilts her head, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. You realize you’ve been holding your breath.

And then, as if fulfilling an inevitable fate, she starts walking toward you.

Every step she takes drags memories with it. Time hasn’t erased the way she moves, that effortless but weighted presence. Anxiety grips your chest, and part of you wants to run. But another part—a deeper, more honest part—wants to stay. Wants to hear her voice without a digital filter separating you.

When Billie stops in front of you, the air between you turns heavy, almost suffocating.

"Hey," she says, her voice low, almost hesitant.

The only thing you can think is: God, I missed this.

You swallow hard, forcing the words out. "Hey, Billie."

Billie smirks slightly, taking a sip of her drink. "You disappeared, huh?"

You return her smile. "Look who's talking, Miss Eilish."

Billie chuckles, shaking her head. "Fucked-up schedules. You know how it is."

You let out a small laugh, and she watches you closely before speaking again. "I missed that laugh. You haven’t changed a bit."

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. "You think so? ‘Cause last time I checked, we were kids sneaking out of our houses to go sit on rooftops. Now we’re—"

"—adults sneaking away from crowds to talk like we’re still those kids," Billie finishes, her smirk softening into something more vulnerable.

You exhale, shaking your head. "Guess some things don’t change."

Billie hums in response, swirling the last bit of her drink in her glass before setting it down on the table beside her. "But some things do."

You don’t ask what she means, but the way she looks at you, really looks at you, tells you everything. The years apart weren’t just years. They were a shift, a slow, inevitable change in who you both had become—separate, yet somehow still connected.

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to something only you can hear. "I listened to your last album, you know."

Your breath catches, but you play it off with a small smile. "Oh? Any favorites?"

Billie grins, tilting her head. "You already know."

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, shaking your head. "You always did love making me say things out loud."

"And you always did hate admitting when a song was about me."

You meet her gaze again, the air thick with something unspoken, something dangerously close to breaking through the surface.

Gracie suddenly reappears beside you, holding a fresh drink in one hand and a knowing smile on her lips. "Well, this is fun. Should I grab popcorn, or are you two finally going to stop being cowards and talk?"

Billie snorts, shaking her head. "Gracie, subtlety is not your strong suit."

"Never claimed it was." She winks before taking a sip of her drink. "I’ll leave you two to it. Try not to make this into another heartbreak anthem, yeah?"

With that, she disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Billie standing there, the weight of the moment pressing down between you.

"You wanna go outside? It’s kinda stuffy in here."

You nod, and Billie steps past you, leading the way to a balcony. The cool night air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat inside. Billie leans against the railing, exhaling slowly.

"Congrats on your Grammy, by the way," you say, watching her with a small smile.

Billie glances at you, then looks down, a soft, almost bittersweet smile curving her lips. "Thanks, kitten."

Your expression softens at the sound of her voice saying your old nickname. There’s something in the way her voice sounds, something familiar, something that tugs at the past. Nostalgia washes over you like a wave, and you can see it reflected in her eyes.

You let out a quiet, breathy laugh, stepping beside her, fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass. "Feels weird, doesn’t it? Being here. With each other. After all this time."

Billie hums in agreement, tilting her head as she studies you. "We used to talk about nights like this. Said we’d never be like them—too busy, too distant. But here we are."

You look down at your drink, letting her words settle. "Guess we got caught up in it too."

Billie shifts closer, her shoulder barely brushing against yours. "Maybe. Or maybe we were just scared."

You glance at her, your pulse quickening. "Scared of what?"

Billie’s lips part slightly, but she doesn’t answer right away. The tension between you stretches, delicate and charged, like a wire pulled too tight.

"Of what it would mean if we didn’t let go," she finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

You hold her gaze, heart hammering. The air is electric. Her eyes drop to your lips for just a second, and you swear you stop breathing.

Slowly, hesitantly, Billie lifts a hand, fingers grazing your cheek. "Tell me to stop," she murmurs.

You don’t.

She leans in, closing the space, and before you can think—before doubt can creep in—her lips brush against yours, soft and hesitant at first, then deeper, like a memory she’s been dying to relive.

And just like that, the past doesn’t matter. Only this moment does.

Her lips connect with yours, in a nostalgic kiss, slow and long-awaited, as if you've both been waiting for this for years—because you have.

"Can I stay just a little longer?" Billie whispers, her forehead resting against yours after pulling away to catch her breath.

You let out a breathless laugh, the words slipping out like a promise. "Don’t ask me twice."

Billie smiles, a warmth spreading through her, her eyes meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and familiarity. "I’ve missed you. More than I realized."

You lean into her touch, your heart racing but steady at the same time. "Yeah," you say softly, "I missed you too."

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of your combined breathing and the quiet hum of the night around you. The city lights below flicker, distant and unimportant.

Billie tilts her head, eyes flicking to your lips before she locks eyes with you again. "You know," she says, her voice low and teasing, "we might be way too old for this sort of thing."

A smirk plays at the corner of your lips. "Yeah? I think we’re exactly the right age."

She laughs, the sound warm and inviting, before closing the distance between you again. This time, it’s more than just a kiss. It’s the unspoken words, the promise of no more running, of not letting the years slip away again.

And when you pull away again, it's not to escape. It's to look at each other, to search for a future that's always felt a little out of reach but now seems possible.

Billie takes your hand, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "So... no more disappearing?"

You nod, a grin tugging at your lips. "No more disappearing."

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both believe it.

love uuu babies xoxo

[elikajinnie]

The Goblet Of Hate And Suffering - P.S

P: Durmstrang!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

see request here -- hogwarts au masterlist

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped.

Park Sunghoon?

No, it couldn’t be.

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

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

The boy who had left you.

The boy who had broken your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Park Sunghoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you weren’t about to tell them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sight that greeted you made your blood run cold.

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

Death Eaters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched.

Park Sunghoon.

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

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

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

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

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

This was supposed to be your year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Dumbledore spoke again.

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

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

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

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

But yours weren’t.

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon was here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were the Hogwarts champion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the labyrinth was nothing like you expected. The paths shifted beneath your feet, the hedges curling and uncurling as if they were alive. Whispers filled the air, faint and unsettling, their words indecipherable but laced with a strange pull that made you want to stop and listen.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus as the sphere brightened, leading you down a path.

The first obstacle came quickly—a swirling mist rose from the ground, obscuring your vision. It shimmered unnaturally, and as you stepped closer, figures began to emerge from the haze.

They were familiar.

Your friends, their faces twisted in fear and accusation. They called out to you, their voices blending with the whispers of the maze. “Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you help us?”

It was an illusion, you told yourself firmly, gripping your wand. But the longer you stood there, the harder it became to move.

The sphere in your hand pulsed sharply, breaking the spell. The mist dissolved, and the figures vanished, leaving you shaken but determined.

Further into the maze, the challenges grew more complex—a riddle spoken by a disembodied voice that demanded an answer before a path would open, a series of enchanted vines that tried to trap you until you cast the right spell to sever them, and a pool of shimmering water that you had to cross without touching it.

And then, just as you thought you were making progress, the maze shifted violently. The path behind you closed, and the hedges ahead twisted into a new formation. You stumbled, clutching the sphere tightly as its glow flickered uncertainly.

You grumbled under your breath, frustration bubbling up as the maze twisted yet again. The hedges seemed to have a mind of their own, changing direction as if to toy with you.

But you didn’t give up. You kept pushing forward, focusing on the gentle pulse of the sphere in your hand. Its glow flickered faintly, as if it was trying to reassure you.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you saw it—there, nestled among the twisting branches of the maze, was a glowing relic. It was an ornate, silver chalice, encrusted with gemstones that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was it—the relic you were sent to find.

You picked it up carefully, feeling its weight in your hand. The moment your fingers touched the cool surface of the chalice, the sphere in your hand pulsed brightly, its light turning a brilliant white. The hedges around you seemed to tremble, and with a sudden, sharp crack, the labyrinth opened up a clear path before you.

A pathway leading directly to the exit.

You couldn’t help but smile as you started walking briskly, the pressure of the maze’s tricks slowly fading away. The light from the sphere illuminated the way, guiding you confidently.

And then, in the distance, you saw it. The edge of the labyrinth. The exit.

You broke into a sprint, heart racing with a mixture of triumph and relief. You burst through the final stretch and out into the open air, the sound of sudden loud applause brusted in the air.

As you caught your breath, basking in the glory, you realized something.

You were the first to make it out of the labyrinth.

“You did it!”

Before you could react, your friends rushed at you, nearly knocking you off your feet as they wrapped you in a tangle of hugs and cheers.

“You were amazing!” one of them exclaimed, shaking your shoulders in giddy excitement.

“First one out? Are you kidding me? That was brilliant! You’re going to crush this tournament!”

You couldn’t help but smile as their words of encouragement washed over you, the sound of their cheers louder than the crowd’s applause.

But then your eyes flickered toward the labyrinth’s exit.

And there he was.

Sunghoon stepped out of the maze, his sphere still glowing faintly in his hand. His dark hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell as he caught his breath.

Your smile faltered.

He scanned the crowd quickly, his eyes landing on you almost immediately. His gaze was sharp, and it made your chest tighten in a way you hated. You could see the faintest trace of something in his expression—surprise, pride, maybe even regret—but you looked away before you could decipher it.

“You okay?” one of your friends asked, noticing your sudden silence.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile back onto your face. “Just tired, that’s all.”

But your heart wasn’t in it anymore.

Even as your friends continued to celebrate around you, patting your back and shouting about how you were destined to win, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Sunghoon’s eyes still lingering on you.

The labyrinth's exit shifted again, and you turned just in time to see Seon-mi stumble out, her sphere glowing faintly as she clutched an ornate relic in her hands. Her face was flushed, her hair slightly disheveled.

“Seon-mi!” you yelled, breaking away from your friends and running toward her.

Her head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and when she saw you running toward her, her lips curled into a tired but radiant smile.

“You did it!” you cheered, throwing your arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. She let out a surprised laugh, nearly dropping her relic as she hugged you back.

“You too!” she said, her voice breathless with exertion. “First place, huh? Absolutely crushing it!”

“Barely,” you teased, stepping back to look her over. “But look at you! That was amazing!”

She let out a small laugh, holding up her relic. “I thought I was done for at least three times in there. That maze is evil.”

“Tell me about it,” you said, shaking your head. “But you made it out—and with style, might I add.”

But then, as the sound of the crowd swelled again, you felt a presence nearby. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Sunghoon standing off to the side, watching the two of you.

His expression was hard to read—somewhere between reserved and contemplative—but his gaze lingered on you just a little too long.

Seon-mi seemed to notice as well, her laughter trailing off as she followed your line of sight. She arched an eyebrow at you, leaning in slightly. “So… what’s the deal with him?”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your attention back to her. “Nothing,” you said, forcing a casual tone. “Let’s just focus on celebrating this, okay?”

Seon-mi gave you a curious look but didn’t press further. Instead, she slung an arm over your shoulder, grinning. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily! Later, I’m getting the full story.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t help but smile.

--

The cool breeze of the courtyard did little to calm the storm of thoughts in your mind as you sat on the stone bench, books and notes spread out before you. You were determined to be as prepared as possible for the next challenge. Your quill scratched furiously against the parchment as you jotted down strategies and possible spells to master.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell over your notes.

“Uhm.. hi” came a familiar voice, soft but hesitant.

You froze for a moment before slowly looking up. Sunghoon stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of his Durmstrang coat, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” you asked curtly, frowning as you set your quill down.

“I just… thought I’d check on you,” he said, his voice steady but tentative. His dark eyes scanned your face, searching for something. “You look good.”

You blinked at him, taken aback for a split second before your frown deepened.

“I look good?” you repeated, scoffing. “That’s what you’re starting with?”

Sunghoon shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s been a long time. I just—wanted to see how you’ve been.”

“How I’ve been?” you echoed, your tone sharp. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms as you fixed him with a glare. “You disappear for years, act like I don’t exist, and now you suddenly care about how I’ve been?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. “I—”

“Save it,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. I’m busy.”

You turned your attention back to your notes, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But instead, Sunghoon stayed where he was, his presence looming over you like an unwelcome shadow.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something that sounded like regret.

You let out a bitter laugh, not bothering to look up at him. “Well, congratulations anyways, Sunghoon. You did a fantastic job of it.”

There was a long pause, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable. You could feel his gaze on you, but you refused to meet it.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance.

You exhaled sharply, your chest tight with emotions you didn’t want to name. Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus on your studies again. You didn’t have time to dwell on the past.

--

You sat at the long table with your housemates, absently picking at your food as they chattered excitedly about the upcoming Yule Ball. The air was full of laughter and bright energy, but you couldn’t shake the distant feeling that seemed to cling to you.

The news had spread like wildfire—people were already planning who they would ask to be their dates. You watched with a faint sense of detachment as a group of boys at the far end of the table gathered their courage, each nervously approaching the girls they had set their sights on. One by one, the proposals were made, and you noticed how the girls blushed, some laughing, others squealing in excitement.

The laughter echoed around you, but you were strangely unaffected. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go—of course, you did—but the thought of asking someone, or even being asked, felt… far away. Maybe it was the pressure of the tournament, or maybe it was something else.

“Are you going to the ball?” someone asked, pulling you back into the conversation.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, probably,” you answered, your voice a little more distant than you intended.

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

You shrugged, not quite knowing how to explain. “I just… have other things to focus on right now.”

Your housemates, seemingly unfazed by your answer, continued on with their talk of dresses and tuxedos, and who they thought would be the first to ask who. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in the midst of all their enthusiasm.

Later in the day you stepped out of the classroom, still absorbed in your thoughts, when a sudden voice pulled you from your reverie. You turned, slightly startled, to see a Durmstrang boy standing there, his posture straight, a confident but friendly smile on his face.

"Excuse me," he said, his accent thick but clear.

You didn't recognize him immediately, but something about his presence stood out—he had an air of quiet confidence that seemed to command attention. He looked at you intently for a moment before extending his hand in a polite gesture.

"I'm Park Jisung," he introduced himself smoothly. "I was wondering... would you be my date to the Yule Ball?"

You blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of the question. Your first instinct was to look around, as though checking for any signs of teasing or mockery, but there was none. The confidence with which he spoke was genuine, and something about his demeanor made you feel less like a spectacle and more like someone he'd truly wanted to ask.

You hesitated for a moment, before realizing you hadn’t even considered asking anyone to the ball.

"Well..." you began, your voice trailing off as you looked him over once more. He was undoubtedly handsome, and you had to admit, there was something refreshing about his approach. It wasn’t shy or hesitant like some others, nor was it awkward. He had simply asked.

You exhaled slowly, smiling faintly. "I’ll admit… you’re the first one to ask me," you said, your tone a little more playful than you intended. "And I guess I like that you’re confident enough to actually do it."

Jisung’s smile widened, clearly pleased by your response. "So, does that mean I have a yes?"

You paused again, just for a second, but the weight of everything else made it hard to focus on anything else. But here was someone who seemed genuine, without baggage.

"Yeah," you said, finally nodding. "I’ll go with you."

Jisung grinned, looking pleased, his expression softening a little. "Great. I’ll make sure you have a good time, then."

You smiled back, feeling a little lighter than before.

--

You stood before the mirror, taking one last look at yourself. The gown you wore was a beautiful shade of deep blue, with delicate silver embroidery that caught the light every time you moved. Your hair was styled elegantly, with soft waves that framed your face, and a delicate sparkle of jewelry adorned your neck and wrists. Despite the reflection staring back at you, a feeling of unease lingered in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t look good—no, you felt pretty, even confident in the gown. But your mind was elsewhere.

Sighing, you turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun. You didn’t want to ruin it by overthinking.

As you made your way to the Grand Hall, your steps quickened, a sense of anticipation growing within you. The music and chatter filled the air as you approached, and just as you were about to enter, you were suddenly ushered inside by none other than Professor McGonagall.

“Ah, there you are,” she said with a kind smile, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You look stunning tonight. Enjoy yourself.”

You nodded, smiling in return, and walked into the hall, where the grand spectacle awaited. The chandeliers glittered above, casting a warm glow on the swirling dancers below, their laughter and joy filling the room.

There, standing near the edge of the floor, was Jisung. He was dressed impeccably, looking every bit the gentleman in his sleek suit. When he saw you, his face brightened, and he gave you a warm smile. He took a step toward you, bowing deeply with a flourish.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his voice genuine and kind. He reached out a hand, and you placed yours in his, letting him gently lead you onto the dance floor.

As the music swelled, Jisung guided you gracefully, his movements smooth and practiced. You couldn’t help but be impressed by how well he moved—he was a good dancer, relaxed, and seemed to know exactly how to hold you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept away, forgetting everything else.

But then, you caught sight of him.

Sunghoon.

And with him was Wonyoung.

Your heart skipped, a flutter of nerves taking over as you saw the two of them talking, laughing together. Wonyoung, the elegant Beauxbatons student you’d gotten to know a little through Seon-mi, was standing so gracefully beside him, laughing at something he had said. She was every bit the picture of poise and beauty. Her long, shiny hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes sparkled with charm as she spoke. It was hard not to admire her—she was one of the most beautiful girls you’d met, and she carried herself with such effortless grace. You had nothing but kindness for her, but seeing them together made your stomach twist in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wonyoung's family was one of the wealthiest in France, and it showed in the way she carried herself—refined, composed, and effortlessly elegant. Everything about her seemed so perfect, and in comparison, you felt almost... ordinary.

You had always tried not to let those insecurities show, but seeing Sunghoon with her, so at ease, made you wonder if you'd ever really meant anything to him at all. You quickly looked away, focusing instead on Jisung, who was still guiding you through the dance with ease.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sensing your change in demeanor. His eyes softened with concern.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just a little distracted, I guess.”

Jisung gave you a knowing smile. “It’s a big night. I can’t say I blame you for having a lot on your mind.”

You let out a breath, grateful for his understanding.

As the night wore on, you allowed yourself to enjoy the dance, the music, and the lighthearted conversation with Jisung. His presence was calming, and his gentleness made it easy for you to forget about the stress that had been gnawing at you. He was attentive without being overbearing, asking questions, and making sure you were comfortable. He never pushed, never rushed. It was a kindness that was rare, and you couldn't help but be grateful for it.

You weren’t thinking about the pressure or the heartbreak—you were just here, in the moment, dancing with someone who genuinely cared.

As the night continued, you found yourself smiling without restraint. Jisung's soft laughter filled the air as he spun you around with grace. And when the song ended, he pulled you gently to a stop, holding your hand as he looked at you, his eyes soft.

"You've got the best smile," he said, his voice low but warm, "It's nice to see you so... carefree."

You blushed, a soft warmth spreading across your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. "Thank you," you said, smiling back at him.

"Anytime," Jisung replied, and his eyes sparkled with genuine kindness.

--

The day of the second challenge had arrived, and despite the tension in the air, you and Seon-mi couldn’t help but find small moments of humor. The two of you sat together, sharing sweets from a small pouch she had brought along.

“These are amazing,” you mumbled, popping another sugary treat into your mouth.

“Right? My mom sends them from home,” Seon-mi said with a proud grin. “I swear they’re the only thing keeping me sane during all this madness.”

You both started snickering as she nudged you with her shoulder, and you nudged her right back. The lightheartedness between the two of you felt like a much-needed reprieve from the stress of the tournament.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Sunghoon standing a short distance away with Krum and a couple of Durmstrang students. They were speaking in low tones, their expressions serious as they seemed to discuss strategy.

But Sunghoon wasn’t paying attention to Krum.

Every so often, his gaze flickered over to where you and Seon-mi were laughing, his brow furrowing slightly as though he was trying to figure out what was so funny.

Seon-mi caught on and leaned closer to you. “He’s staring again,” she whispered, her voice laced with teasing.

You glanced over briefly, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes for half a second before quickly looking away. “Let him,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging as you reached for another sweet.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on there?” Seon-mi asked, her grin mischievous.

“Absolutely nothing,” you said firmly, though the slight edge in your tone made Seon-mi raise an eyebrow.

“Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But if he keeps looking at you like that, I might start thinking he’s got something to say.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing her off. “He can keep whatever he wants to say to himself.”

Just then, a whistle blew, signaling that the champions should gather at the starting line. The lighthearted atmosphere shifted as the reality of the challenge set in, and you exchanged a quick look with Seon-mi.

“Let’s do this,” she said, offering you a fist bump.

You knocked your fist against hers, giving her a small smile. “Let’s.”

The crowd gathered around the edge of the massive lake, buzzing with anticipation as the cold morning air nipped at your skin. You stood with Seon-mi and Sunghoon on the raised platform overlooking the water, your nerves bubbling beneath the surface, though you tried to appear calm.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his long silver beard glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. The murmurs in the crowd quieted as his voice, amplified by magic, rang out clearly across the grounds.

“Champions!” he began, a warm yet commanding tone in his voice. “For your second challenge, you will face one of the most formidable and ancient tests: navigating the depths of the Black Lake.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you could hear a collective gasp ripple through the students behind you. Even Seon-mi shifted nervously beside you.

Dumbledore continued, “Hidden beneath these waters are treasures most precious to you—each chosen specifically for this challenge. Your task is to retrieve these treasures and return them safely to the surface. But beware… the lake holds many secrets, and its creatures are not known for their kindness.”

The mention of creatures sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your face neutral.

“The time limit is one hour,” Dumbledore added, his gaze sweeping across the champions. “Failure to return within this time will result in… unfortunate consequences for what you leave behind.”

The cryptic phrasing made your stomach turn, and you couldn’t help but glance at the still, dark surface of the lake. The Black Lake had always seemed mysterious, but now it felt downright menacing.

“Your wands will, of course, be allowed,” Dumbledore added. “You may use any spell, charm, or potion you’ve prepared to aid you. The challenge begins shortly—champions, prepare yourselves.”

As the crowd broke into excited murmurs, Ludo Bagman stepped up to add his usual theatrical flair. “Ladies and gentlemen! Gather around and make your bets—oh, er, I mean—place your predictions! Who will prevail in this challenge of skill, bravery, and a touch of aquatic ingenuity?”

You barely paid attention to him as you turned to Seon-mi, who gave you a slightly nervous smile. “What do you think they mean by ‘most precious to you’?” she asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your mind racing with possibilities.

Before either of you could speculate further, Igor Karkaroff approached Sunghoon, muttering instructions in his ear. You noticed Sunghoon glance at you briefly before nodding, his jaw tightening.

“You’ll be fine,” Seon-mi whispered, nudging you gently. “We’ve got this.”

You nodded, giving her a small, determined smile. “Yeah, we do.”

The sound of the starting gunshot echoed, and without hesitation, you dove forward. As you leapt off the platform, you muttered the Bubble-Head Charm under your breath, feeling the familiar sensation of the magical air bubble forming around your face just as you hit the freezing surface of the Black Lake.

The cold water wrapped around you like an icy embrace, sending a shiver through your entire body. You pushed through it, forcing yourself to focus. The world beneath the lake was murky, dark, and eerily quiet, broken only by the distant swaying of underwater plants and the occasional darting shadow of a fish.

You kicked your legs hard, propelling yourself deeper into the water. The sunlight above barely penetrated the lake’s depths, leaving everything shrouded in an unsettling gloom. You gripped your wand tightly, its faint luminescent tip acting as your only reliable guide.

Your breath echoed softly within the bubble charm as you swam forward, eyes scanning the seemingly endless expanse of water for any clue to what you were looking for.

The silence was suddenly broken by a ripple of movement far ahead. You squinted, trying to make sense of the shifting shapes in the distance. Were they merpeople? Grindylows? Or worse?

As you swam closer, you felt the water begin to stir unnaturally around you, currents pushing against your path as if trying to steer you away. Ignoring the resistance, you pressed onward, following a faint glow that seemed to pulse ahead of you.

The glow of the archway cast an eerie light on the scene before you, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw the frozen, lifeless forms suspended in the water. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized one of them—Jeongseob. His eyes were closed, his body eerily still, tethered to the rocky floor by a thick strap around his ankle.

Without hesitation, you swam toward him, your heart pounding as you reached for the strap holding him in place.

Out of the corner of your eye, movement caught your attention. Turning your head sharply, you spotted a cluster of merpeople circling nearby, their sharp eyes fixed on you. Their expressions were unreadable, but their tridents glinted threateningly in the dim light.

You huffed, pushing away the unease crawling up your spine, and focused on the strap. Your fingers fumbled with the knot as you tried to release him, but it was tighter than you anticipated. Pulling out your wand, you muttered a quick Diffindo, and the strap snapped cleanly apart.

Grabbing Jeongseob under his arms, you began to lift him when a figure suddenly darted past you, cutting through the water with precision.

Sunghoon.

You froze for a moment, watching as he swam toward another frozen figure—you recognized immediately as Wonyoung. His movements were swift, almost practiced, as he reached her side and inspected the strap binding her.

Sunghoon released her with practiced ease, and with one strong kick, he began swimming upward, her unconscious form in tow.

You snapped back to reality, your grip tightening around Jeongseob as you adjusted his weight. With one last glance at the merpeople, who thankfully didn’t move to stop you, you started your ascent toward the surface.

The water seemed heavier now, the glow from the archway fading the farther you swam. You pushed yourself harder, focusing on Jeongseob’s still form and the faint light of the surface above. Your lungs burned, your muscles ached, but you refused to stop.

When you broke through the surface, gasping for air, the cheers of the crowd were deafening. You swam toward the platform as quickly as you could, hauling Jeongseob out of the water with the help of a few officials.

Turning your head, you caught sight of Sunghoon already on the platform, placing Wonyoung gently on the ground.

The way he looked at her made something twist uncomfortably in your chest, though you couldn’t quite name the feeling. His soaked hair stuck to his forehead, droplets trailing down his face.

You quickly averted your eyes, focusing entirely on Jeongseob, who was coughing and spluttering as he tried to sit upright.

"Hey, take it slow," you murmured, brushing his damp hair out of his face. Relief coursed through you as his breaths steadied. "You're okay now."

Jeongseob gave you a weak smile, his voice hoarse. "I knew you'd save me."

You helped him to his feet, steadying him as one of the mediwizards approached to check on him.

The crowd roared again as Seon-mi broke through the surface, dragging her younger brother along with her. She looked utterly exhausted, but a triumphant grin spread across her face as she hauled him onto the platform. You cheered for her, clapping as she waved in your direction, her relief evident.

"You did amazing!" you called, and she laughed breathlessly, collapsing onto the platform beside her brother.

You could only smile at her.

After that, it seemed like the universe had decided to work against you. Everywhere you turned, Sunghoon and Wonyoung seemed to be there—together.

At breakfast in the Great Hall, you’d glance up from your toast only to see him leaning slightly toward her, talking quietly while she smiled, twirling a strand of her dark hair between her fingers. In the corridors, you’d catch them walking side by side, Wonyoung’s melodic laugh ringing in the air as Sunghoon’s eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

Even during the rare moments you found peace in the library, they’d somehow find their way to a table not too far from you. Wonyoung would whisper something, her delicate hand brushing against Sunghoon’s arm, and he’d lean closer, murmuring back with a small smile that made your stomach churn.

Wonyoung wasn’t the problem, you reminded yourself.

But knowing she wasn’t the problem didn’t make it hurt any less.

Every time you saw them together, it was like a thorn pressing deeper into your chest. You’d tell yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care what Sunghoon did or who he spent his time with. He wasn’t your problem anymore.

Yet, the memories of your shared past refused to fade. The way he used to look at you like that, the way he used to make you laugh until your sides hurt—it all lingered in the back of your mind, taunting you.

"You're staring again," Seon-mi teased you, nudging you with her elbow.

You snapped your gaze away from the corner of the courtyard where Sunghoon and Wonyoung were talking. He was holding something out to her—a book, maybe—and she took it with a grateful smile.

"I wasn’t staring," you lied, biting into the apple in your hand with more force than necessary.

Seon-mi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Sure, and I’m secretly the Minister of Magic."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to engage further.

But even as you tried to brush it off, the frustration bubbled under your skin. It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. It was annoyance. Annoyance that he had the audacity to walk back into your life and act like nothing had happened. Annoyance that he was suddenly everywhere, an unavoidable presence that reminded you of things you’d tried so hard to forget.

You bit down harder on your apple, you silently vowed to keep your focus on the tournament and nothing else. Sunghoon could do whatever—or whoever—he wanted. You had more important things to worry about.

The day of the third challenge arrived, and the anticipation in the air was palpable. The weight of the past challenges hung heavy, and with every passing moment, the dread of what lay ahead only grew. You stood there, in the cold, feeling the slight tremor in your hands as you clasped them together, trying to steady yourself.

The arena was unlike anything you’d seen before—towering stone walls, an eerie silence that almost seemed to press in on you, and the unnatural stillness of the sky overhead. The crowd’s murmurs were distant, but your mind was too focused on the task ahead to truly hear them.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest, the adrenaline starting to kick in. The previous challenges had been difficult, but this one? This one was unlike anything you had ever prepared for. There was no room for hesitation or second-guessing.

“Competitors, step forward,” a booming voice called, pulling you from your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and walked forward with purpose, fighting the nerves that clawed at your insides. This was it. The final challenge.

The stands were packed with eager faces, eyes fixed on you and the other competitors.

Ahead of you stood the final challenge—a labyrinth of twisting hedges, rising walls of thorns that reached high above your head. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, but you focused on the task ahead.

"Your task is simple," the voice of the Headmaster rang out again, "Navigate the maze, retrieve the Triwizard Cup at the center, and return. The maze will change as you progress. Be alert. Be ready."

With a final glance around at your fellow competitors you took a steadying breath, stepping toward the entrance of the maze. The world seemed to fall silent as your footsteps echoed, each one leading you deeper into the unknown.

The first few moments were calm, and you felt your nerves settle as you moved swiftly through the narrow paths. But then, as you rounded a corner, a sudden shift in the maze occurred. The path behind you collapsed, leaving no way to retrace your steps.

You gritted your teeth. No turning back now.

The wind howled through the labyrinth, whistling past your ears as if the very maze itself was trying to disorient you. Every step felt like it led you in circles, the twisting paths all blending together in a maddening blur. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to stay focused.

You clutched your wand tighter, the familiar weight grounding you. With every turn, you muttered spells under your breath, trying to manipulate the maze, hoping to find some way to make it easier, but the labyrinth seemed to grow more chaotic with each passing second. The walls shifted again, and you cursed under your breath as the path you’d just taken disappeared behind you, leaving you with only a narrowing tunnel ahead.

A flicker of light suddenly caught your attention. You turned, heart skipping a beat as you saw the glow of something ahead, faint but undeniable. The Triwizard Cup.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward it, adrenaline pushing you to the limit. But the wind picked up again, this time more violent, the trees around you creaking under the pressure. The air grew heavier, and you had to shield your face against the sharp sting of the gusts.

Just as you thought you were getting closer, a new barrier rose in front of you—a wall of thick, thorned vines, their sharp tips glinting like daggers. You skidded to a halt, barely able to avoid running into them.

Your heart raced as you glanced around, trying to find another way. You reached for your wand, but before you could cast another spell, something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Movement. A shadow darting through the maze. You narrowed your eyes, instinctively reaching for your wand again, but when you looked closer, you realized it wasn’t an enemy.

It was Sunghoon.

You froze for a moment, but there was no time to waste. You had your goal: the Triwizard Cup. You couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now, not when you were so close.

You pushed forward, every muscle in your body screaming, but you couldn’t afford to slow down.

Sunghoon was right behind you now, running just as fast, his dark silhouette cutting through the chaos of the maze. The wind howled, fiercely whipping around you both.

You could hear his footsteps, closer now, like a shadow trailing in your wake. With the wind pushing against you, it felt like an invisible hand was trying to drag you back, but you fought it, forcing your legs to move faster, your heart pounding in your ears. You couldn’t let him win.

The thorns of the maze lashed out like wild creatures, scraping your arms as you rushed past. You barely noticed the pain. All you could focus on was the glowing cup just ahead.

You shot a glance over your shoulder. Sunghoon was gaining on you, his pace matching yours with frightening precision. You swallowed hard, feeling the competitive drive surge through your veins. There was no way you’d let him get there first.

In that instant, the wind picked up again, stronger this time, pushing against both of you with brutal force. It felt like the very maze itself was trying to separate you, to tear you both apart. The gusts howled louder, as if the maze itself had come alive to stop you from reaching the prize.

You pushed through the wind, the air sharp in your lungs, heart hammering against your ribs.

But just as you thought you had gained an edge, the wind howled even harder, and a massive gust swept across the maze. You stumbled, feet slipping beneath you, and you heard Sunghoon’s sharp breath as he took advantage of the opening.

You were neck and neck now, the cup within both of your grasps, but who would get there first?

Your hand reached out, fingers brushing against the golden edges of the cup...

And just like that, it was over.

In a flash, Sunghoon's hand shot out, quicker than you could react, and he snatched the Triwizard Cup from right before you. Your heart sank as you watched him grasp it tightly, his fingers curling around its surface, his expression set in triumph.

For a moment, the wind seemed to quiet, almost as if it too had paused to watch the final moment unfold. You froze, chest heaving, the adrenaline crashing through your body like a wave.

He had won. He had beaten you.

--

You stood there, surrounded by your friends’ supportive words, each one trying to lift your spirits. It helped, in a way. You had made it this far. You had survived the Triwizard Tournament’s challenges, something that not everyone could say. You had won the first challenge, and that counted for something.

But as the cheers echoed around you, you couldn’t help but feel a lingering disappointment. You had been so close, so close to finishing it all. You had fought hard, but in the end, Sunghoon had been the one to claim victory.

You glanced over at him, watching as he was surrounded by his fellow Durmstrang students. Their excitement was palpable, and it stung to see him raised up on a pedestal, holding the cup aloft like a hero. He posed for pictures, a small smile on his face, as if everything had gone exactly according to plan.

Your gaze shifted to Igor Karkaroff, who was grinning from ear to ear, his greedy eyes never leaving the cup. As Sunghoon handed it over to him, Karkaroff’s hand clapped firmly on Sunghoon’s back, a gesture that seemed more like a possessive claim than a congratulatory pat.

You swallowed hard, that familiar bitterness rising in your chest.

It wasn’t just the victory that stung—it was everything that came with it. The attention, the admiration, and the way people seemed to bend around Sunghoon like he was the center of their world.

You shook the thoughts away, reminding yourself that you had made it through. You had done your best.

--

The courtyard was alive with activity as students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang prepared to depart.

You stood with Seon-mi, your heart heavy. Despite everything, she had become a true friend to you.

“You better write to me,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion as she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Only if you write back,” you teased, your voice wavering slightly.

Seon-mi laughed, stepping back to look at you. “I will. I promise. And maybe I’ll convince my parents to let me visit Hogwarts sometime.”

“Please do,” you said, smiling despite the ache in your chest.

With one final hug, Seon-mi stepped onto the carriage, giving you a cheerful wave before disappearing inside. You stood there for a moment, before turning to leave.

That’s when you saw him.

Sunghoon stood by Krum, speaking quietly. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to his expression that you couldn’t quite place.

Your heart was pounding as you approached Sunghoon. With every step closer, you felt the weight of everything unsaid between you. This was it. If you didn’t confront him now, you never would.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned to you, startled, his eyes wide.

“Come with me,” you said firmly, dragging him away from the group and toward a quiet corner near the castle walls.

“Wait—what are you doing?” he asked, but he didn’t resist.

When you stopped, you let go of his arm, crossing yours tightly over your chest. “I need to know something, Sunghoon. I need to know why you left.”

His expression faltered, the usual confidence in his gaze replaced with unease. “Why I left?” he echoed, as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Yes,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why you left me. You just disappeared without a word, Sunghoon. I deserve to know the truth.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse to answer. But then, he finally spoke.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “I… I liked you when we were kids, alright? I did. But then… I don’t know, I guess I just… fell out of love.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, all you could hear was the rushing of blood in your ears.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice trembling.

“I’m not—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “That’s not the truth. Tell me the real reason, Sunghoon. I deserve that much.”

He sighed again, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the conversation was finally catching up to him. His brows furrowed, and he looked away from you, his jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he muttered, his tone sharper now. “You want the truth? My parents didn’t like you.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“They didn’t like you,” he repeated, looking at you now. His eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, anger, guilt, maybe all three. “Your family… you’re not pureblood. My parents didn’t think you were good enough for me. And when they decided to send me to Durmstrang, I had the chance to leave everything behind. So I did.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. You just stared at him, the truth sinking in like ice water in your veins.

“So, what?” you finally managed, your voice shaking. “You just… left because they told you to? Because you couldn’t be bothered to fight for me? For us?”

He flinched at your words, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly. “I was a kid, okay? I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the cold air. “Well, you did. You hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, his shoulders tense and his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to decide what hurts me, Sunghoon. And you don’t get to justify what you did. You could’ve told me the truth back then. You could’ve given me the chance to understand. But you didn’t. You just… left.”

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but you didn’t want to hear it. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him standing there alone.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was the answer you needed. And now, at least, you could finally start moving on.

a/n: my angst is a bit rusty... LUCKILY I GOT MORE ANGST COMING!

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[deathbyathousandspiders]

“ guilty as sin? ,,

jj maybank x fem!reader.

IN WHICH you and jj don’t know how to face each other after he drunkenly tells you to leave your boyfriend for him.

a/n — this is my first JJ fic but hopefully of many so lmk what else y’all wanna see 🤭🤭

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

After the week you’d had, you never thought JJ would be the one gracing your presence. You never anticipated being stuck in silence with him like this. Typically, his company was welcomed. He was your safe space, your home. Your best friend. Quiet with him was something you always looked forward to. 

Although, last weekend certainly changed that. 

You two hadn’t spoken in a week. It was the longest you’d gone without talking to him since your parents moved to figure eight in the fourth grade; even then, that was only two days. You and JJ grew up neighbors before that. It was written in the stars that you were meant to be in his life, engraved in your bones. To grow up together, to laugh and cry together and to fall way too hard for him. And you knew JJ was messy. Messy and complicated and never someone you could tie down. 

But he was your best friend. 

JJ walked beside you as the sun set further off the shoreline, painfully ignoring the tears slipping down your face and the words bubbling up his throat. He clenched his jaw and grinded his teeth and fiddled with that stupid bandana to avoid wrecking the silence building up between the two of you. 

Above all else, your friendship was of utmost importance. Hence why when you’d written a love letter to him for Valentine’s day in the eighth grade and he never responded, you acted like you hadn’t written anything at all. Hence why when Topper Thornton started to give you romantic attention last year, you tapped into it. 

A little harmless flirting surely wouldn’t hurt, especially if it meant making JJ jealous. And, of course, he was. But did he say anything? No. And the more time that went on, the more you realized just how harmless being Topper’s girlfriend would be. You’d grown to like him, sure. But he’d never be JJ. 

Not even after last weekend’s incident. 

JJ held the front door to his house open for you, eyes glued to you like you’d valish if he happened to blink for too long. Despite the two of you not talking for a week, he still didn’t hesitate to answer your phone call when you’d dialed his number earlier. He didn’t hesitate to offer his house–his bed–when you told him your parents were divorcing.  

They’d been shouting and arguing and bickering and forgetting your existence for the past week. Your boyfriend graciously offered for you to stay at his, and you had anxiously been waiting for him to send word that you were all clear to head over. But Topper stopped responding. He hadn’t texted you since. 

That was three nights ago. 

The thought of that sunk into you with edges much more rigid than you’d anticipated. And when JJ left you alone in his room, it finally hit you. Everything you were feeling set into motion, toppling every wall you’d been building down to the floor. Sobs choked their way up your throat and your entire body shook where you stood. You weren’t okay. 

And JJ read you like a book. He always did. 

You’d been written in a language that only JJ took the time to learn. He knew you better than anyone else did, and you couldn’t fathom how or why. 

JJ was quiet when he walked back into his room. The only sound that announced his arrival was the clanking of the glass beer bottles against his wooden desk. He sat down the beverages before pulling you into a hug. He didn’t have to say anything to let you know that he wasn’t expecting you to reciprocate it. He just wanted to be there for you. 

Your arms slowly wrapped around him, and he took that as a sign to pull you even closer. He held your head to his chest, stroking his fingers down strands of your hair to say you were safe with him. Vulnerability was a difficult thing for him, but he knew he couldn’t let you break down alone. He’d never let you go through this alone. 

He stood there for as long as you needed, and you could tell he’d stay with you like that through the entire night if you’d asked. It was a breath of fresh air that you needed. 

When the sobs settled, JJ cupped your cheeks to wipe your tears. He moved your head up to look at him, and finally met your eyes for the first time since he’d picked you up. JJ took you in, looking back and forth between one eye and the other before convincing himself that you were gonna be alright. He was going to make sure of it. 

The way you leaned into his touch was a feeling he’d missed. He hadn’t let it hit him just how much he’d missed you, but his week had been rough without you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes fall shut once yours did, and his forehead pressed against your own. 

And in that moment, silence fell between the two of you in the way you were used to. It was a silence you’d begun to ache for. Comfortability. Safety. For just a moment, you convinced yourself that everything would work out. Everything was going to be okay, and you had nothing to worry about. You chose to focus on that instead of the looming dread that the moment would end before you wanted it to. You could feel the words gnawing at JJ through the stillness of his breathing. 

You’d stored the moment in the depths of your mind, knowing it would be safe there for the time being. It only took a minute before JJ took a hesitant breath, opening and closing his mouth like he knew the damage that he’d cause by breaking the silence. 

“Are we never going to talk about it?” His voice was soft; it was a question only meant for the two of you, but the gravity of it sent you spiraling right back to the second he was talking about. 

Watching your friends try to walk along the sand whilst tipsy never failed to make you smile. They were such a bunch of idiots, but they were the best kind out there. 

You’d agreed that for this beachfront party, you’d be the designated driver. It gave you an opportunity to see just how dumb the lot of you came across when you were intoxicated. It also gave you the opportunity to feel the raw anxiety of how long your boyfriend had left you on delivered for. 

“Y/N!” You heard a holler from nearby, looking up from your phone just in time to see JJ nearly trip over a stick in the sand. His stumbling brought you to your feet, walking over to him. He certainly was pie–eyed. He was drunk. He reeked of it. “Shit..” He tried to catch his balance, his barrings, holding onto your arms as you held onto his. “I–I’ve got something to tell you.” JJ slurred. 

Your smile fell a bit at how serious he seemed. There was a look in his eyes that told you he was nervous to keep going. “Jay? What’s up?”

His eyes scanned you like they were sober, glistening with something that made your stomach flip. Your breath vanished, your heart leapt, and you felt sinful for the butterflies that he gave you. You felt ashamed. 

“Leave him.” The words had more syllables than they were supposed to and were dripping with booze, but they still hit you like they would if delivered any other way. “Leave Topper–” JJ swayed a little too far to his right, almost toppling into you but catching his balance. 

The two of you were a dangerous inch apart. 

Your eyes met, glancing from one to the other as he glanced at your lips. You felt the world stop. “Leave him cause I…” You watched the struggle in his eyes. He was fighting back demons not to kiss you. “I love you.”

Wide eyes stared back into his own. You’d been waiting years to hear those three simple words from him. Hearing them drunk though felt like a jab to your ego. Part of you felt like it was wrong to accept them. 

You thought about it though. 

“JJ, you’re drunk.” You had to keep a stern tone with him, placing distance between the two of you. Stepping away to grab some water, his hand met your wrist to pull you back to him. 

You didn’t mean to look at him with such a startle, but the way your eyes met, you could tell you’d triggered something in him. Something that might’ve made him feel like he was acting like his father. You watched the way his eyes widened, and gears turned, because he instantly let go of you. 

He took steps back, muttering panicked apologies at your frozen figure. You tried to call out to him, to tell him that it was okay. You were okay and he didn’t have to stammer off, but he did. He ran off, and just like that, you didn’t hear from him. 

You two didn’t speak until he’d answered your phone call thirty minutes ago. And now you stood toe to toe, chest to chest, head to head. You felt the air thin between the two of you at his question, and let out the breath that you’d been storing next to the elephant in the room. “I really don’t want to.” You gave an honest answer, keeping your tone as gentle as you could. 

As you opened your eyes to meet him looking at you, your head craning up to look at him. Your nose traced the curve of his from the motion, but distance was instant to creep between you when your phone lit up. The screen was face up on his bed and flooded light into his bedroom. You looked towards it, taking paces over to check and see if it was a response from your boyfriend. 

Maybe it was wrong of him, but JJ kept his hands on you for as long as he could before you slipped from his grasp. His fingers lingered at your hips, his eyes held you longer than he was able, and he watched the falling of your expression at whatever notification had come popped up on your phone. 

His jaw clenched, hands running through his hair as he let out an exasperated sigh he’d been holding onto. “Christ, Y/N.. I can’t keep doing this..” JJ was flustered, both from frustration and whatever effect you’d had over him. He respected the space that stood between you, but never found the strength to look away, even as you caught the angered look in his eyes. 

Your brows pressed together, one arching higher than the other. “Keep doing what?” There was both agitation and genuine confusion in your tone, “Does it bother you to see me in a happy relationship?”

JJ scoffed, tongue outlining the inside of his mouth as he fought back a laugh. He stared at the ceiling as if he’d find an answer there other than brute honesty. He was unsuccessful. “Don’t bullshit me. I know you.” His words were short, almost as short as his breath. Almost as short as his temper, yet he was more composed than you were. “I can’t keep watching him hurt you like this.” 

He struck a nerve with his words. The sincerity he had, the audacity he had to question your happiness. Hell, you were far from happy; your relationship with Topper was nothing short of toxic and unfulfilling, but JJ calling it out? Like he had ever cared about you more than someone he could chest bump and catch a wave with?

You hoped smoke didn’t exhale through your nose with the breath you’d let out. Your fuse was growing short circuited. “God, you’ve got some nerve, Jay..” Angered paces closed the distance between you as you walked back over to him. “You’ve got some balls on you to say that after the stunt you pulled last weekend!” Your pointer finger poked at his chest with your accusation. 

The air between you was so thick, neither of you had confidence that a knife could do any damage. But there was something addictive about the anger you stared at each other with, something in the humidity of the tension. You two couldn’t look away from each other if you tried to. 

“Really? Do I?” His sarcastic, rhetorical questions carried with a snarky tone of voice. He almost mocked you. “Sorry that I actually care about you!” JJ couldn’t stop his voice from rising in volume. “I mean, God..” The last word snagged on a scoff, a chuckle. “How is he even your boyfriend? What do you guys even do together?” 

Seeing JJ short tempered was one thing, but you’d never seen him this aggravated before. It almost made you smirk at how much you’d ruffled his feathers; just how much you’d gotten under his skin, made him jealous. It was entertaining. 

But you were angered. Right. You were upset with him. You’d almost forgotten. 

JJ’s tongue dared to make a short appearance, wetting the gap between his lips as he hesitated. He knew this comment would cause damage, but he was in the thick of the moment. JJ’s voice finally lowered in volume, speaking through gritted teeth when he asked: “When was the last time he’s even kissed you?”

And that fucking did it. 

Toe to toe with him, you kept your head craned up to him, eying him from the two feet of space that kept you two separated. You couldn’t tell if your eyes sparked with tears or pure aggression. “Don’t you fucking go there, Maybank!” You snapped. “You’re walking a thin fucking line right now– I mean, seriously!” You were exasperated, cutting yourself off mid sentence from your loss of words, but you couldn’t lose this argument. You let out a scoff at him, narrowing your eyebrows. “Y’know, I bet you don’t even fucking remember what you said to me–”

JJ cut you off this time, only needing one stride to close the distance between you. “And what if I did remember?” His voice grew quieter, snagging on the ridged edges of his tone. The intensity of the room was still thick, but you’d suddenly forgotten to breathe with how little space there was between you. The atmosphere surrounding you changed appearance, revealing that it was never fully anger, rather than pure unadulterated attraction. 

Your heart pounded in your ears, caught in your throat, and ricocheted off of JJ’s chest, as it now threatened to touch your’s. Any breath that slipped through your lips tickled his own, and you felt the heaviness in each of the exhales he fanned across your face. The containment of his composure, and how difficult he had keeping a hold and restraint on himself. 

His eyes were glued to your lips despite the close proximity you stood at, and your own eyes were traitorous as they caught a glimpse of his. Soft, just slightly out of reach, and threatening any movement that you challenged. 

“What if I did remember? And what if..” He drank you up, how speechless he’d left you. JJ didn’t showcase the cockiness he’d felt, stumping you, leaving you at his whim in front of him. He took in the moment, savoring the ghost of your body slowly pressing against him. “What if I meant every word? And I..” His voice had grown huskier, timid and low and just for you. “I want to show you just how you deserve to be treated..”

You felt the gentle, light, brushing of his fingers just beyond your silhouette. He knew he was teasing you, but he was just testing waters. JJ didn’t want to cross a boundary that you didn’t permit him to. 

But it was you that began closing the gap, that brushed your lips against his. You left him speechless with just a taste, just a sliver of contact. You could hear the sharpness of his inhale; the breath that hitched at the back of his throat. It took every fiber of your body, every cell in your brain not to cave…but you were winning. 

The outline of a smirk ghosted across your lips, your mouths a very hazardous distance away from each other. Each breath was shared, each feeling reciprocated, but you couldn’t be the first one to falter. “You want me that bad, huh, Maybank?” You let the coyness ring through your low–toned question, the triumph of your teasing sing to him. And it was all the more satisfying when he had to swallow some of the tension before giving his response. 

It was almost too compelling, how high you got on his sudden nervousness. He was flushed, putty, speechless. There was a frog in his throat, and he couldn’t seem to let it out. Just by giving him a little preview of what you felt like, he couldn’t seem to catch a hold of himself. Alas, you couldn’t keep yourself contained forever. 

“Yeah, I do..” A breathless whisper, and you felt every spark attached to it. Each syllable of sincerity, and it drove you wild. 

You let the feeling soak in, letting your lips curl in victory. “Good.” You hummed, closing the aching gap between you and kissing him. You kissed JJ, holding his head in your hands and pushing him back against his wall. JJ was quick to reverse it, quick to bounce off the wall, and pin you there in his place. His hands traveled up the length of you, fingers pressing to your hips, your sides, padding dangerously close to sensitive spots you didn’t think he’d be so quick to find. 

The kiss was filled with more than just the bubbling rage you’d felt just moments prior; the passion that wasn’t fueled by anger at all. Neither of you could fight back the rising smiles at the realization of just how long this had been coming. Both of you wanted this for so long, and you knew neither of you would let the other go anytime soon. 

Especially with how turned on you were. 

Your lips parted with a gasp, JJ’s entire palm pressing to your clothed breast. His other hand found a way up your shirt. Sinful touches and breathy moans filled the room, and you felt totally consumed by each other. Possessed by lust, and overcome with an undying need for JJ. You needed him everywhere, in every way. And you couldn’t even believe this was happening. 

As JJ’s hands found your ass, kneaded the plush of it, you hopped into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. The grunt that he’d let out into the kiss only added to the knot growing in the depths of your stomach, the ache throbbing between your legs. Your hips rolled to meet him as he walked over to his bed, quick to lay you over his comforter and kiss down your jaw and your neck. 

His fingers locked with yours, holding your hands beside your head against his mattress. When he’d parted from your neck, the look in his eyes could’ve killed you. The look on his face alone could’ve driven you mad—his lips plump and red from kissing you senseless, JJ’s entire face gaping at you, silently begging you for more. But his eyes were asking, giving you the choice. It was your call. 

You combed your fingers through his hair, grabbing his chin to pull his lips back to yours, when your phone interrupted the two of you with its blinding light. Both of you peered over at it, not the least bit indulged with what pulled you from the heat of the moment. 

“Are you going to check that?” JJ asked, some edge to his voice. And you couldn’t tell whether it was protective demeanor, harmless competition, or his composure not to take you right then and there. 

Meeting his eyes again, you found yourself smirking, breaths still heavy from how worked up you were. Your eyes didn’t leave his as you turned your phone over. “Not tonight.” You spoke with a hum, quick to take off your top in a quick motion afterward. 

Maybe part of you should’ve felt guilty, or guilty for not feeling guilty. But you couldn’t care less. Especially because you felt like the luckiest person in the world. 

[baocean]

𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪

⤷ chapter two - o week

her phone

being with the girls was probably one of your favorite things ever. all gathered around the kitchen table, laughing about the latest drama or something silly cleo’s professor said, picking at pieces from sarah’s plate because she said she was too full.

the group had formed slowly. you and kie lived together. kie and jj were best friends. jj played lacrosse with pope, john, and rafe. cleo and sarah were pope and john's girlfriends. as the first semester of your freshman year unraveled, more people started to get invited to the hangouts in dorms or on dark lacrosse fields after games.

by now, it was your own little family at kildare. family, even if you really only liked five out of the seven members.

jj maybank and rafe cameron were like carbon copies of each other. like birds to a feather, the became attached at the hip the second they were introduced during their visit to sign with kildare back when they were juniors in high school. you were pretty sure they were secretly in love with each other.

they were both self proclaimed 'chick magnets', were both annoying beyond manageable, and had this infuriating way of taking up every ounce of attention the second they walked into a room.

you tolerated them, mostly because you had to. tolerated jj’s smug winks across the table, tolerated rafe’s stupid dares that always somehow roped you in, tolerated the way they’d team up to poke and prod at you until you either snapped or laughed, depending on the day.

sometimes you wondered how you hadn’t committed a crime yet. other times, when jj tossed a bag of your favorite candy at your head mid-study session, or when rafe distracted professors long enough for you to sneak in late, you sort of got it.

the kitchen was loud- forks clinking, sarah giggling about something cleo said, kie tossing her head back laughing, when the front door slammed open so hard one of the pictures on the wall tilted sideways.

"hide your sisters, hide your friends!" rafe’s voice bellowed through the house, just as he and jj crashed inside.

"jesus christ," kiara muttered from her spot at the kitchen table, barely glancing up from her wine glass.

“where you guys at?” john b’s voice rang out from the entry way.

you barely had time to turn in your seat before four very sweaty boys stumbled into the kitchen.

“you animals,” rafe gasped, dropping his gym bag on the floor like he was wounded. “you didn’t even wait?”

jj was right behind him, flushed from lifting and breathing a little heavier than normal, shooting you a look like you’d personally betrayed him.

"you said you'd be late, pope said to eat without you guys." kie pointed to pope, shrugging her shoulders.

john b came around the table, looking dramatically heartbroken, and leaned down to steal a bite of sarah’s plate. sarah smacked his hand away but was smiling, all fond and fake-annoyed.

“you know what?” jj announced, tossing his arm over your chair dramatically. “i expected betrayal from kie. and cleo. even sarah. but you?” he pointed at you, a fake look of disapointment crossing his features. “you were supposed to be different.”

you shook your head, pushing his arm off. “you’ll survive, jj.”

he fake staggered back like you’d shot him. “i might not.”

"there's more in the fridge." sarah rolled her eyes, smiling anyways when john leant down to place a kiss on her cheek.

jj slid into the seat next to you, knocking his knee into yours hard enough to make you jolt. you shot him a glare. he just grinned like he hadn’t done anything wrong, already reaching across the table to grab the salt.

the kitchen was loud, messy in the way only your group could manage- pope and cleo arguing over who could lift more weight, sarah and john b sharing a plate and whispering to each other like no one else existed, rafe dramatically reenacting his latest gym injury.

someone spilled a drink. someone else shouted about it. sarah’s laughter carried over it all, bright and wild.

kiara rolled her eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. "you’re all so annoying," she said, but there was no real heat behind it. not when the house was full of everyone she loved.

yourusername: we’re back!

kiaracarrera: we are SO back baby

rafecam: i thought you had music taste

↳ yourusername: go ride the bench some more

↳ rafecam: RUDE?

sarahcam: i love u let's make love

↳ yourusername: ok 🩷

cleoanderson: ROUND 2

johnbroutledge: yup yup yup

popeheyward: 🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼

jjmaybank: ooooooooooooooo weeeeeeeeeekkkkkk

rafecam: kiss me bro

↳ jjmaybank: bro i will

popeheyward: not o week 😔

kiaracarrera: yikes

↳ jjmaybank: dwayne get out of my comment section

↳ kiaracarrera: bitch shut up

sarahcam: the robes PLEASE

cleoanderson: awwwww look at the little cuties in their little robes

↳ jjmaybank: we so cute ☺️☺️

xoxo, mimi

masterlist | next chapter

taglist (taglist is open!) @babyamors / @jombies / @luvrclub / @yesshewrites1 / @cassiewritessalot / @rottinglexi / @certifiedjjsimp / @str4wb3rrym1lkl0v3r / @cinderellieeeeeeeeeeee / @isinpfortvdmen / @doesnt-care / @dylsdaily / @wasiasproject / @chuuuchuuutrain / @dr3amgrlll / @4jjsbank / @abigailovesz / @lmaowhatt / @idli-dosa / @papercranesandinkstains / @dramagodesss / @ayy1234567 / @wrtzia / @reeseswirl / @mrrayjay / @cokewithcameron / @dr3amgrlll /

[hyunsvngs]

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 - yang jeongin x gn!fem reader, lee minho x gn!fem reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: sex with no strings attached between mc & jeongin, some boy x boy action, established relationship between mc & minho, smut mdni

synopsis: you and your favourite boy have planned to take apart the youngest member of the frat - but the question is, what has developed along the way? your hot bitch summer has a high chance of being fully successful, albeit with some new feelings.

a/n: THE LAST PART OF HOT BITCH SUMMER OH YEAH WOO YEAH EVERYONE ENJOY! smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: boy x boy action, threesome, dirty talk, sub jeongin then possibly a bit dom jeongin, jeongin's a virgin, loss of virginity, corruption kink if you squint, mc has a wap, oral (m rec), cumswapping if you squint, creampies, unprotected sex, sex with no strings attached

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were alarmed.

Minho had invited you over, claiming he had ‘something you needed to see’, and when you asked if it was his dick, he said no. For the short journey to the frat house, you couldn’t help but contemplate what it was. Why was it urgent, too? You’d asked if you could just go tomorrow, but he wasn’t having any of it, claiming it needed to be done today. 

You opened the door when you got there, sniffing at the prevalent smell of weed. Of course, Jisung was perched on the couch cuddled up to Felix with his hand in a bag of crisps.

“Oh, hey,” He said, cheeks red. “He’s upstairs.”

You nodded, feeling slightly miffed that your best friends were getting high without you. It was whatever, really - guaranteed they’d be knocking on Minho’s bedroom door in an hour to invite you. When you entered Minho’s room, he was sitting at his desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper.

“You’re here!” He spun on his chair, giggling. Okay, now you’re even more alarmed. What is he so excited for? You didn’t think you’d ever seen Minho this excited. 

“Minho, I’m currently terrified,” You said, feet planted firmly on the floor. He just smiled again, bunny teeth showing and hopped up from his chair like he really was a bunny. Before you could say something else, interrogate him even, he was dragging you to the upstairs hallway. 

You watched in shock as he grabbed a ladder, positioning it underneath the small hatch in the ceiling. 

“Minho, do I dare ask why you’re taking me into the attic?”

“It’s a surprise,” He huffed, the typical scornful look back on his face. “The surprise is in the attic.”

“Are you going to take me up here and kill me? I’d rather know beforehand, y’know, so I could prepare-“

“Honey, if I was going to kill you, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” He replied. Quick as a flash, the smile was back on his face, and he was creeping up the ladder to push the hatch open. You sighed as he pulled himself up and into the attic, and then he was poking his head over. All you saw were two dark eyes and a mess of dark hair, and you grinned. He was so cute. “Are you going to come up or just stand there?”

You scoffed, and then followed his steps, climbing up the ladder. Minho pulled a cord from the slanted roof once you were up there, and then you were gobsmacked. 

Fairy lights were strung up around the room, adorning a sun and moon tapestry on the wall. There was a bed pushed against one of the walls, looking newly-built and never slept in with cozy light pink bed sheets on. Most importantly, a little bunny teddy sat in the middle of the bed, looking up at you with its beady eyes.It wasn’t a big bedroom, but it had clearly been renovated for some reason or other, and somehow decorated exactly to your taste.

“Minho-“

“Ssh, let me speak,” Minho came behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. You hummed, holding onto his wrists. You could feel the soft fabric of his dark green hoodie against your back. “You’re over here all the time anyway, right? I thought you may as well have your own space, should you ever need it. Like, if we argue or something.”

“This is for me…?” You asked, in a meek voice. You guessed as much anyway, but you needed it confirmed. Minho nodded against your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

“Of course,” He replied. Then, he shifted from behind you and coughed, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him, seeing the tips of his ears burning crimson and his eyes averted to the wall. “I mean, I just threw it together really quickly. We can redecorate if you don’t like it, or-“

“Minho,” You cut him off, kissing his nose. He scrunched it up, swatting you away playfully. “It’s perfect. I just feel so bad, you’ve done all of this for me when I spend most of my time here in your bed anyway.”

Minho chuckled. He pulled you over to the bed and you sat on the edge with him, giggling as he grabbed the bunny teddy and placed it in your lap. “It’s for if you ever need time alone, like I said. I know how nice it is to have a space to call your own, honey.”

Since fucking Chan in his car, one thing had been on your mind. You’d said you were close to Minho, and that had been how you’d put it. Now… seeing what he’d done for you, the bunny teddy included - it just looked so much like him - you needed to ask. So be it if it ruins the friendship - you’d harboured the feelings a bit too long to deny it. He’d been the one to start it all, kickstarting the crazy time you’d had in the frat and he’d been by your side all the way through it.

After all, all you’d really wanted was him.

“Min,” You began, emboldened by the sweet thing he’d done. Redecorating a whole attic must have been hard. “I… what are we, Minho? I kind of just need you to be upfront with me at this point.”

A beat passed, with no words spoken between the two of you. Your hands remained clutched around the bunny. Minho took a sharp inhale of breath. Then, he was laughing the type of full body laugh you’d only seen him do a few times. He threw himself on the bed, thrashing around in his laughter, and you swatted him.

“Don’t laugh at me-!” You squeaked, pouting.

“No, no, I’m sorry, honey,” He pulled you into him, chest still shaking. “It’s just really funny. I mean, I thought we were together this whole time.”

You blinked. Together? “But… I’ve been fucking your friends.”

“You’re the only one I’d trust to fuck all of my friends, dummy,” He said, kissing your forehead. “Also, God knows I get off on it massively. You know it’s a kink for me, my partner fucking my boys. It’s hot as fuck smelling them on you.”

“Oh,” You said, intelligently. Minho chuckled again, brushing your hair out of your face when you looked up at him. “So, we’re together.”

“I think we have been, haven’t we?” He murmured, eyes gazing directly into yours. It made sense, so you nodded. You’d just been extremely fucking dumb. What was new? You suddenly noticed your surroundings, though.

“Minho,” You began, and he hummed in response. “We’re on a bed.”

He blinked, and then he was smirking. “Yeah. That we are, huh?”

You licked your lips. “It’s a new bed.”

“Yup.”

“Let’s christen it.”

Minho practically pounced on you. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were in that exact room a week later, flicking through one of the romance novels Seungmin had recommended when you saw a head burst through the hatch. Unsurprisingly, it was your boyfriend. Minho fell onto the floor as soon as he came through.

“He said yes,” He breathed, panting heavily. You raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you panting so fucking hard?”

“I pulled myself up here without a ladder,” Minho explained, wiping his forehead. “I got too excited because he said yes. He’s pretty damn excited about it, too.”

You raised an eyebrow, bookmarking your page and shutting your book. Seungmin would murder you if you dog-eared his precious book. “Sorry, Min, what are we talking about again?”

Minho shot up, glaring at you. “Um, Jeongin? Obviously.”

You gasped. Jeongin had said yes? You were going to complete your hot bitch summer, and it would end in taking a virginity. But… was Jeongin seriously comfortable with it?

“Is he… is he sure?” You asked, uncertain. To some people, losing their virginity is a serious thing. Jeongin may be one of those people.

Minho scoffed. “He’s been hard ever since you started fucking around. He’s been waiting, honey. I mean, I think he would have rather been involved with the orgy we had, but…”

“Oh, fuck. We totally should’ve invited him,” You gushed. Minho nodded, shrugging. He was still on the floor. “Anyway, he wants you to be there?”

Minho nodded. “He’s pretty excited about that, too.”

Picturing the two men together, you couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so when? When does he wanna do it? Like, tonight?" 

Minho shoved your shoulder gently, shaking his head at you. "He's not the only one who's excited, hm?" 

"I'm not gonna pretend to not be excited, Min. We get to fuck a virgin together! I know you're fucking thrilled too, don't act so nonchalant."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "Anyways, tonight works for him, if you're up to it. Well, as soon as possible, really. You wanna make him wait for it?"

You considered this briefly. "I don't know if I can even make myself wait for it. I wanna shower first, though." 

"Sure, go get ready." Minho began to head down the ladder.

"Don't you dare start without me!" You yelled down at him.

"Jesus, Y/N, some of us can keep it in our pants for twenty minutes," You heard him mutter snarkily as he descended. 

The whole shower you were excited. It was hard to keep from slipping on the tiled floor as you rushed around, shaving and moisturising specifically to rock Jeongin’s world. You had to make his loss of virginity an amazing experience. 

Arriving at Minho’s room in your towel, you opened the door and were met with a delectable sight. As the door opened, Jeongin sprung apart from your boyfriend with blushing cheeks and wide eyes. He looked flustered, caught in the act by you, and Minho sat nonchalantly. 

You pouted, clutching onto your towel. Your hair dripped wet droplets from your shower down onto your chest, and Jeongin’s eyes followed the journey. “I told you not to start without me, Min. You said you could keep it in-“

“Couldn’t help myself,” Minho replied, shrugging. “He’s a good kisser. Also, nothing’s escaped my pants.”

You tilted your head to the side, sizing up Jeongin. He was cute, annoyingly so in his joggers and loose t-shirt, and he was pitching a sizable tent. You had to know what you were dealing with - a full on virgin, or had he done a little something before?

“Innie?” You mused, and he stared at you owlishly. “Have you seen a pussy before, baby?”

He shook his head. “Never. I really want to, though.”

“I bet you do,” Minho hummed, pulling Jeongin over to sit between his legs. You watched in awe as Minho kissed up the column of Jeongin’s throat, making Jeongin bare his neck in acceptance. His eyes were soft when he looked at you, but you could see something beneath them - something wanting, needing. Minho nipped at Jeongin’s earlobe, and then he spoke again. “Why don’t you drop the towel, kitty?”

You smiled, reaching up to undo the knot in the plush white towel. It fell to the floor in a heap, just in front of your feet and in between the two boys perched on Minho’s bed. Jeongin’s jaw dropped. 

“C’mere, kitty,” Minho murmured, and you raised an eyebrow. “Come lay on the bed and let me show Innie how to play with a pussy.”

Well, you were definitely down for that. The blankets felt a little awkward with your body still being slightly damp, but you wriggled around until you were comfortable anyway, head back against the pillows. Minho’s bed was way too familiar to you now, and you revelled in the familiarity while doing something so new. You kept your legs shut, watching the two boys turn towards you with eager eyes. 

“Spread your legs,” Minho commanded, and you obliged. You let your thighs fall apart and Jeongin’s eyes immediately fell to the wetness between your legs. “You see that, Jeongin? You’ve made it wet, yeah?” Minho chuckled and leaned in closer, his hand running up your thigh. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You felt yourself getting wetter as Jeongin's eyes watched the two of you kissing, his body shifting on the sheets. 

You pulled away, grinning at Jeongin. “Do you want us to teach you what to do?”

“I- I mean, yeah, that’d be good,” He cleared his throat. “For future reference, and everything.”

“Okay,” You giggled, nodding. “Come and kiss me then. That’s a good start, no?”

Despite being the one to ask him to come and kiss you, you wrapped your hand in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him towards you. Jeongin squeaked, and fell on top of you, right between your spread legs. You let out an amused noise when his eyes seemed to dart between your face, your tits and your pussy, now pressed into his bulge, and then you were pulling him down by the back of his head. 

Minho was right. He was a good kisser. He seemed to like the push and pull, being dominant one second and then letting you take the lead within seconds after. You let your hand run through his dark locks, pulling on it just a little, and Jeongin let out a low groan of approval. Minho chuckled next to you. Jeongin’s hands, however, seemed perfectly stationed either side of your head on the pillow. He was being respectful, but it was perhaps a bit too respectful.

“Jeongin,” You whispered against his lips. He raised his eyebrows, showing you he was listening. “Who taught you how to kiss? You’re an insanely good kisser.”

Jeongin laughed, a cute, melodic sound. “Hyunjin.”

Makes sense. “That’s cute, Jeongin,” You smiled. “Did he touch your dick, too?”

“Straight to the point,” Minho mused. You gave him a glare, side-eyeing where he was palming over his trousers. You wanted to touch him, but no - you had to focus on Jeongin for now. 

“Mm, yeah, he jerked me off,” Jeongin nodded, and in a bold move for him, he leaned down to press a few kisses against the column of your neck. “Minho’s jerked me off before, too.” 

You turned to Minho, lips parting in shock. Minho merely shrugged. “He has a nice cock. Jeongin, strip.”

Jeongin leaned up, looking at Minho in bewilderment. You chuckled, running one hand down his clothed chest. “I don’t need foreplay, Innie. Other people probably will, for future reference, but… I get too desperate and impatient. So, yeah. Get naked. Please.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, yeah,” You watched in glee as Jeongin yanked his t-shirt off, and then your jaw dropped. Jesus, was he always that built? You’d never really noticed, only seeing him as a cute guy with a lot of love for his friends and a hate for being called a baby. His skin was pulled tight around very, very sculpted abs - ones that could actually rival Chan’s if Jeongin decided to show them off more. You hoped he would. Letting one hand run down his abs, you hooked your fingers into his joggers, and pulled the fabric down - boxers too, because you really were known for being impatient. 

Wow. Jeongin’s dick was hard and standing at attention. You licked your lips when you saw the short, dark curls at his base, framing a thick, average-length cock. The tip was ruddy, flushed and leaking precum in pearlescent drops that made you need him inside of you. You reached down and took him in your hand, stroking him lightly. He moaned in response, hips kicking up into the friction, and you pulled him closer, your other hand caressing his cheek. You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, feeling him harden even more in your grasp.

“I want this inside of me so bad,” You murmured. He sighed, although it was more like him choking on air. “Do you want to fuck me, Jeongin?”

“God, yes, but-” He cut himself off, turning to Minho. Minho raised an eyebrow, hand still stroking over his clothed erection. “Is it… okay if I go in without a condom? Is it okay with you?”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, Innie,” Minho chuckled, finally pushing his joggers down. Your mouth watered when you saw his erection, familiar and just as exciting as the first time you saw it. Jeongin turned back to you, his eyes fixated on yours.

“Fuck me raw, Jeongin,” You nodded. “I want to feel you, all of you.” 

Jeongin sighed, and then he positioned his length at your entrance. His cockhead was thick, and you could feel the heaviness of it before he’d even pushed in and entered your pussy. He left it at your folds for a second, just resting against you, as if he didn’t know what to do. You shifted your hips, hoping to get him inside. The movement was too quick, however, and his cock dragged through your pussy lips without breaching.

“You’re too excited, kitty,” Minho murmured, hand stroking over your hair. You huffed, and he chuckled. “C’mere, let me do it.” 

You watched in awe as Minho wrapped a tight fist around Jeongin’s length, positioning at your drippy hole. It was a shock when Jeongin finally let his sexual urges take over, pushing in fully and bottoming out in one thrust. You jolted, whining at the stretch. 

“Fuck, Innie, you're thick. You've got a really nice dick, you know that?”

He let out a strained laugh, abs tensing above you. “I've been told.”

“Like this, Innie,” You went fully pliant as Minho pushed your legs up, letting Jeongin use his weight to enter you deeper. He started to thrust into you, sharp and strong albeit clumsy. The friction against your g-spot made you wail, eyes bleary with the feeling of uncalculated thrusts so deep inside of you. “Feels better like this, yeah?”

“Oh, this is wet,” Jeongin blurted, and it was almost like a question, his facial expression in disbelief. You really were wet, from the thought of taking someone’s virginity and the feeling of his cock pressing into you. Not to mention your boyfriend being so close to you, jerking his beautiful cock watching his girlfriend and his friend writhe in ecstasy. Jeongin was whining, hips sharply hitting against yours. “Fuck, I’m in so deep, it’s so good-”

It was good, almost too good - you loved watching Jeongin fall apart above you. It was like he couldn’t handle the pleasure he was feeling, little sighs and sharp grunts falling out of his lips. His eyes were dazed, staring down at you but unfocused as he focused on chasing his high. He had no clue what he was doing, but it somehow made the situation sexier - you were showing him how to fuck a pussy.

The knowledge that it was his first time, that you were corrupting someone previously so innocent and cute had you clenching around his cock tightly. You could cum just from this - something you’d discovered when fucking around with the others - and it wouldn’t take long, your thoughts running rampant and whines tumbling out of your mouth.

You whined when Jeongin slipped out from you clenching so tightly, his hair wet with sweat and his eyes watery. Minho scoffed, one hand on Jeongin’s hip to push him back in.

“Get back inside there, Jeongin,” He commanded, his eyes dark as he stared at Jeongin’s dick. It was wet with your essence, the tip leaking pearlescent droplets that you wanted inside. “You were going to make that pussy cum. You need to get back in if you want to learn.”

“I- I can’t, hyung,” Jeongin whined, shaking his head. He was crying now, fat tears dripping down his perfect skin. You moaned, one hand stroking his hair back to see his cute face. He was pouting, eyes sending a million apologies to you. “It’s too wet, I can’t. It’s too much, I’m gonna cum-”

Minho’s hand reached down and wrapped around Jeongin’s dick, pumping the length steadily. You gasped, lips parting as you watched Jeongin’s hips attempt not to fuck up into the tight ring that Minho had formed around the base of his cock. Minho gave him a few strokes, firm and tight, and then he was tapping the head of Jeongin’s cock against your clit. 

“Ah, h-hyung, that’s good,” Jeongin wailed, and Minho smirked. His thumb swiped over the head of Jeongin’s cock, inadvertently rubbing over your clit too, and you jolted.

“I need it, Innie,” You pouted, staring up at him. He let his eyes meet with yours, his bottom lip quivering. “Please. Please, I need it, I’ll cum on your cock, I promise. It’ll get wetter, but you can handle it, I swear-”

“Fuck, fuck! Okay, okay,” Jeongin shook his head in shock, and then he let Minho push his cock back inside of you. Immediately, he was resuming a blistering pace inside of you, mindless and set on making you cum. Minho’s hand reached up to rub circles around your clit and you moaned loudly, trying to ignore the cramps in your legs from having them pushed back for so long. Jeongin grunted when you clenched around him, his facial expression wild and lustful. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to cum.”

“Make your partner come first, Jeongin,” Minho chastised, and you whimpered at the dominant tone of his voice. You could feel your eyes rolling back into your head, toes curling as you got closer to your peak. “It’s not gonna take long. See, look at their eyes.”

Jeongin blinked down at you, hands moving to your hips to try and keep a steady rhythm. He’d slowed down a little, trying to avoid his own orgasm, but Minho’s fingers more than made up for it. “You look so pretty.”

It was silent for a beat, until Minho chuckled. “Aren’t they pretty? Fuckin’ gorgeous, makes my dick so hard it hurts.”

“M-Min,” You whimpered, trying to focus on his body next to you. His fingers were slipping around on your bundle of nerves with how wet you were, but it did the job. “‘M gonna cum. Can I suck you, Min, please-“

“No. Focus on cumming on his cock.”

“God, if it gets much tighter I’ll cum,” Jeongin keened, his head dropping to your neck. You let your fingers run through his sweaty strands, kissing his cheek affectionately. 

“Cum with me, Innie? I’m about to cum, you can let go,” You began, speaking through stuttered breaths. Jeongin’s hips hit a particularly hard thrust inside of you, and you almost screamed. “You can- oh, oh, I’m there, oh!-“

Jeongin groaned, eyes focused on you as he watched you squirm through your orgasm. You could feel the wetness gush from your core, soaking his cock until it was drenching the hair at the base. You wanted to lick it clean, but you couldn’t focus on anything else - because he was cumming inside of you. Hot wetness flooded into your core, gushing out to mix with your own and all you could do was keep yourself pliant and take it. His dick slid out of you with the wetness, your pussy clenching at the loss.

“Shit,” Your chest heaved, blinking over at Minho next to you. He rewarded you with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue swiping over yours. You moaned against his lips, hand moving to grab his neck and pull him tighter to you. 

“Um, Y/N?” You pulled away, looking at Jeongin when he spoke. “I don’t know how, but… It's still hard. Can we-“

“You’re fucking the biggest slut I’ve ever met, Jeongin. Of course they’ll want to go again,” Minho mused, and you nodded, smiling. “Flip onto your front. Show him how deep it can go.”

You obliged, flipping onto your tummy and arching your back for Jeongin to slip back inside. The slide was wet, noises chiming around the room with the sound of yours and Jeongin’s cum mixed together. It was so dirty, and it had you whining into the pillow, reaching over to grab Minho’s hand. 

“Please, please, Min-“

“I’m not fucking telling you again,” Minho grunted, his hand tight around the tip of his cock. You licked your lips, fixated on it. “Stop being so greedy. You already have a cock inside of you.”

You swore you could hear Jeongin chuckle, and then he was groaning. His large hands splayed across your ass, bringing you back onto his thrusts and you couldn’t help but moan - who the fuck taught him that? You let your hips bounce back against him, skin sticking to his with how fucking wet everything was. His thrusts increased in pace, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your head was spinning and your heart was racing as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming around his cock for the second time. You felt Jeongin's grip tighten on your hips, and you knew he was close too as you felt his thrusts grow more urgent.

“Minho,” You whined, looking over at him. He scoffed, and then he was moving, sitting in front of you with his cock in your face. He’d given in - you let yourself smile at the success, and then you were running your tongue over his balls, moaning. You engulfed his cockhead with your mouth and Minho’s hips bucked, his hand going to the back of your head with a groan.

“Look so pretty with a cock in your mouth,” Jeongin mused, his hands gripping your asscheeks. His balls slapped against your clit with a filthy wet noise, making you clench and suckle on Minho’s cock just a little more. “Can’t wait to fill you up again. God, you really are a slut, aren’t you? Do you want my cum again?”

“Jesus, Jeongin,” Minho chuckled, but his voice was strained. You giggled, dipping your tongue into Minho’s slit. “He’s a fuckin’ animal. I knew it. Smack her ass a bit, Innie.”

You squealed around Minho’s length when Jeongin raised one large hand to smack down on your ass, the flesh rippling. You bucked your hips back more, asking for another hit, and he obliged. His cock was so hard inside you and the slaps were heavy, painful on your smarting skin, and you loved it. 

You didn’t think you could handle it much longer. Minho was so beautiful above you, his feline eyes narrowed and plush lips kiss-bitten as he stared down at you sucking his cock. His chest was covered in a blotchy red rash, showing his pleasure, and you let your jaw go slack. 

“G’na fuck your mouth as you cum,” Minho groaned, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him this stuttery and horny in the whole time you’d been fucking him. He was falling apart. You hummed around his length, and he used your head to bob your mouth up and down on his cock. Being treated like a fuckdoll, spitroasted by your boyfriend and his friend was enough to have you clenching down tight on Jeongin again. Minho grinned at your facial expression, your eyes rolled back, tightening his fingers in your hair. “They’re gonna cum again, Jeongin.”

“Fuck. Yeah? You gonna cum again?” Jeongin asked, his cock repeatedly ramming into your g-spot. You didn’t even think he knew he was doing it, but you wailed in response nonetheless. “C’mon, flood my cock again. It felt so fucking good last time.”

You were done for. Your pussy clenched around Jeongin once more, walls fluttering as you let yourself go into your orgasm. Jeongin rewarded you with another smack to your ass, and the sensation had you cumming even longer - had it been a minute? An hour? You honestly weren’t sure, but it felt so fucking good you couldn’t find it in you to care. Minho grunted, and then he was holding your head down and spilling hot white warmth into your mouth. You swallowed it down dutifully, licking your lips, and then you were being flipped over again. 

“Kiss me,” Jeongin urged, his hand pushing your thigh up again to fuck you deep. He was a quick learner. You grabbed him by his neck, letting your tongue lick over his. You knew he could taste Minho. That’s why he’d asked you to kiss him. Your pussy was sensitive now, after two orgasms, but you let him fuck you senseless nonetheless. Jeongin moaned, his lips barely brushing against yours in the exchange of spit and you could feel him getting close, his dick twitching in pleasure inside of you. You let go of his neck and grabbed his ass, pushing him in to cum even deeper than the first time. 

He positively wailed as he came for the second time, his head dropping to the crook of your neck again. His body was squirming, twitching through his high, and he was gripping your hips way more than was comfortable - you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow, but it was worth it.

Once he’d filled you up, Jeongin dropped to your other side, chest heaving. 

“Good first time?” Minho questioned, a smile on his face. Jeongin huffed, slinging one arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder. You accepted the cuddle, even more so when Minho sidled up to your other side.

“Good is an understatement,” Jeongin responded. His breath was so close you could feel it tickling your neck, and you giggled. “I’m still pissed off that I wasn't invited to the orgy.”

You hummed. “There’s always next time.”

Jeongin perked up at that, his smile wide. “You mean… you’re not planning on stopping even after having us all?”

Minho chuckled, kicking you playfully. “I don’t think they could stop even if they wanted to. My baby’s a whore.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You better not be planning on keeping that pussy all to yourself, Minho,” Jisung grumbled. He was shoving forkfuls of cereal into his mouth, and you had strong deja vu. You’d definitely been here before.

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Sungie,” Minho responded, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wiggled with glee from your position on his lap, and he chuckled. “I’m not planning on it, anyway.”

“Great,” Felix responded, elbowing your side softly. “I didn’t get my turn alone. People had to interfere.”

Seungmin scoffed. “You were touching each other up in the living room. Did you really expect us to turn a blind eye?”

“I suppose it’s better than a car,” Chan mused. You almost choked on your cereal, Minho patting your back soothingly. You heard Changbin mutter something along the lines of ‘or a gym’.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured into your ear. You smirked.

“I don’t think that’s something a normal boyfriend should be proud of, Min.”

“Yeah, well - we were never meant to have a normal relationship, were we? Remember, this all started from you saying you desperately wanted to fuck me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jisung giggled, beaming over at you both. “I still think that’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Look where it got us all.”

You hummed. You supposed you did have Jisung to thank for all of this - and your hot bitch summer had ended brilliantly, with a boyfriend you were borderline in love with even after fucking all of his frat brothers. 

It couldn’t be any better for you at this point. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Much of the night you spend crying. Between spurts of humiliation and disgust, you sink into a heavy, painful sleep. You wake with a pounding in your temples. 

You call into work. You’ve never done so before but you can’t bring yourself to leave your room. You haven’t come out since your mom dragged you inside. It was only after a lecture about your friends that you could retreat. 

You can’t bring yourself to face the world because that means facing yourself and what you did. What he did. 

You sniffle. You don’t understand any of it. Why you? What did you do to deserve that? 

Your phone vibrates on the night stand. You snatch it, expecting it to be work. They probably need you. Nope. The number is private. You let it roll over to voicemail. 

You close your eyes but the buzz starts again. You ignore it. On the third round, you grab the phone. There’s a text. All caps. ‘ANSWER ME’. 

It’s not Greta. It’s not her number and you don’t think she’d bother. Not after everything. Didn’t she go to the party last night? You can’t remember. 

Private pops up on the screen again. You press the green button and drag your thumb. You answer in confusion. 

“Hello.” 

“About time,” Lee snarls. “You know, I ain’t the sorta man who like to be ignored. It’s insolent.” 

You sit up and your stomach flips, “Sheriff.” 

“Good girl,” he snickers. “You remember your manners, even with that dirty mouth. Huh?” You hear him shifting, “the way you had me all up in you yesterday, huh?” 

You choke and touch your throat. Your head thrums and tears burn. Can’t it be over? 

“Sir, I--” 

“I’m on patrol today. It gets borin’ so you pretty yourself up and come keep me company,” he commands. 

“But I have work--” 

“You got nothing to worry about but me.” He growls. “I want you in a pretty little skirt for me. Don’t bother with nothin’ underneath.” He sucks his teeth. “Half hour, baby.” 

“Sir--” 

“Don’t you argue with me, now.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance. You couldn’t if he did. The line clicks and the call ends. You’re grateful at least for that. 

You turn your legs over the side of the bed and leave the phone tangled in your blankets. You get up and falter. Your insides hurt. You feel his intrusion burning you from the inside. 

You grab a towel and some clothes. You find a skirt, like he said, and a tee shirt. You sneak out and lock yourself in the bathroom. You shower quickly. 

You emerge and your thighs brush together, reminding you of your lack of panties. You hate it. Your father is snoring loudly behind the wall. You grab a pair of flats and your purse, fish your phone from the bed, and go to wait on the porch. 

You stand, don’t sit. The skirt would show everything. You fidget and pace back and forth. The roll of tires makes you wince. You turn and watch the cruiser approach. 

You come down the steps as Lee pulls up. You don’t need your parents waking up. You can’t imagine what they’d think if they knew the sheriff was coming around again. 

You get in and hiss as you sit. Oof, that hurts.  

Lee startles you as he grabs your head and wrenches you towards him. He smothers your mouth with his, his tongue diving back to your throat. You hold back a gag and he finally releases you. 

“Hey, sugar,” he rasps. “Mm, you look delicious. Did ya do what I said?” 

His eyes fall to your lap. You squirm, “yes, sir.” 

“Show me,” he demands. 

You look away. You lift your ass and roll up your skirt, showing your naked pelvis. He groans and shifts in the seat.  

“Uh huh, that’s real nice,” he rubs his lap. “You got a pretty pussy, you know that?” 

You swallow and stare at the dashboard, “thank you, sir.” 

“You pet it for me.” He grips the wheel. 

“Sir?” You squeak. 

“Buckle up,” he shifts into gear, “and show me how that pussy feels.” 

You shiver and reach for the seat belt. You’re stomach boils with contempt and shame. You buckle in and stare ahead. 

“Go on,” he grits. 

You rest your hands on your thighs and slowly trails them inward. You bring one to your cunt, feeling along your coiled hair, and delve between your folds. You’re raw and sensitive. You twitch as you rub your clit. 

“That’s it. Now you don’t go being quiet. I wanna hear ya. Gotta watch the road.” 

You squeak and your thighs quiver. You roll your fingers around. As you get wet, you close your eyes, ashamed as he enters the town centre. Someone could see, even this early. 

“Ohhh,” the gasp slips from you as your fingers glide back. You curl them again and focus on your clit. 

“You put em inside,” he snarls. “Get deep.” 

You whimper and let your fingers slide down to your entrance. You push back against the seat. You dip past your entrance. You gulp and groan. Your walls clench your fingers. 

You press the heel of your hand to your clit. You rock your hand and shudder. He purrs and reaches over, gripping your thighs as he growls. 

“Fuck, baby, you sound good,” he slithers. “Wet, the way your pussy’s clinging. I can hear it.” 

You whine and turn your face away. 

“The way I’d fill you up. Think I’d get stuck up there?” He taunts, his fingers swirling on your flesh. “You’re so wet, I bet you’d be dripping down me.” 

You bite your lip. His hand crawls over to cover yours. He presses his palm over your hand covering it, holding it in place. He prods along your knuckles and you cry out as he forces his fingers inside with yours. He leans over slightly, still grip the wheel with his other hand. 

He moves your hand with his, pushing deeper, faster, and he snarls as you moan and mewl. His fingers stretch you painfully. The heat clusters in your core, flickering hotter and hotter. Your thighs close around both your hands. 

Your hips twitch without your permission. You spasm, grinding against your palm as you cum, fingers squelching in your cunt. You cry out as your orgasm overflows. He hums and slows, keeping his fingers inside. He wiggles them before he slowly drags them out. 

You drip onto the leather seat. He puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks. He pops his lips off and rubs his lap again. He inhales deeply. 

“We needa pull off, baby. I know ya need the real thing in ya. Right now.” 

[loganhowlettshousewife]

Logan and Rapunzel reader perchance? I would imagine him being absolutely enamored by her long hair when they first meet. <333

not my best work but this idea was so cute so i had to write a little something

-

your hair has always grown faster than normal. it’s the colour of gold, shining when the light hits it. as a child, you were your parents' favourite - they adored the compliments you would receive every time they brought you out of the house for errands or a playdate at the park with your friends.

and then at ten years old you found out that you had the power to heal. your best friend was in the hospital and you were by her side, refusing to leave no matter what. she was asleep, passed out from the pain drugs they’d given her, so you sang her a lullaby, hoping that she might be able to hear you even subconsciously, that it would bring her comfort.

your hair began to glow. stray stands of your hair had fallen onto her arm, and the contact of your glowing hair with her skin began to heal her.

your parents had very different reactions when they found out. your father was disgusted that his child was a mutant, but your mother wanted to use your powers. so she pulled you out of school to homeschool you, saying that you weren’t safe around others, that they would try to hurt you if they found out.

and for years you lived like that, trapped in a not-quite-life. you hardly left the house, your only role was to keep your mother young and beautiful.

until one day, a group of mutants came knocking at your door. a man named charles xavier who told your parents all about his school. your mother didn’t want you to go, but charles managed to speak to you alone and you begged him to help you escape, to help you leave this wretched place.

your first few weeks at the mansion you were terribly shy. it had been years since you’d had much contact with others, since you’d met anyone new. so you would hide out in a secluded section of the garden.

that’s where you meet logan.

he leans against the wall, smoking a cigar, and when you ask him what he’s doing here, he replies that it’s probably the same thing you’re doing out here - avoiding the others. he doesn’t speak to you much the first few times, but you find a comfort in his presence. he has no expectations of you.

day after day you hang out with logan, and you grow closer. you tell him about your childhood, and in return he tells you stories about his long life. some are quite brutal, and they make you wince, to which he just laughs dryly.

and then you start to spend time with him outside of the garden. you find him on the couch, drinking and watching a movie, and you settle by his side. he plays with your long hair, twisting it between his fingers, and while normally you hate when people touch your hair, logan isn’t doing it to take advantage of your abilities.

it becomes a habit of his, he always has a hand playing with your hair. and when you finally kiss, against the door of his bedroom, he tugs at your hair to make you gasp, opening your mouth for him.

logan adores your hair, and eventually you learn to love it too, to no longer associate it with the pain of your childhood but with the smiles he sends you from across the room and the feeling of his large hands running through the strands, reverent. he treats you like a goddess, though he argues it's just what you deserve.