cookieloveschoochip

[cookieloveschoochip]

The Quiet Between Us

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ sixthyear!Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary ; After months of silence and distance, she finds him beneath the weight of shadows, secretly fighting his own demons. In healing his wounds, she unknowingly tends to the fragile threads still tying them together—where unspoken apologies and lingering hopes drift quietly by the library.

Warning ; Draco might be out of character, bad/wrong grammar, mentioned of blood, self harm.

Wc ; 2,8k

Genre ; angst (with comfort)

A/n : Once again I'm really sorry for all mistakes here (for bad or wrong grammar). Story was made cz I found a fanon from Tiktok saying Draco tried to remove the Mark by hurting himself. For those who experienced the same, pls never b scared to talk bout it with someone and hope yall feeling better soon, xoxo.

0:00ㅇ─────────10:26

It was late at night. You couldn't sleep. You kept thinking about him. The blonde guy with blue iris you always lose in. Maybe they were right, he'd changed, or maybe he was just tired of things back in his manor.

Burying your body deeper inside the blanket. You never knew what happened, what could have been wrong. It's not like you weren't trying to notice, of course you were, but he never gave signs, which made you lost in your own thoughts.

You asked, multiple times. You tried, wrapping your arms around him, saying he could just pour his heart out at you.

He believes you, right? Of course.

It would be pretty dumb if you think he didn't. You trusted him with your whole heart. Telling your parents about him through the messages you sent by the owl.

Never passed in your mind to ignore him, no, never. You tried to notice, or maybe finding signs of him. But he's just, closed. Felt like he was closing the door between you and him.

Merlin knew you were trying. So you closed your eyes, letting it sank in.

0:42 ─ㅇ──────── 10:26

You sat near your friends in the Great Hall. You're not that type who got excited when the foods appeared right in front of you. But you're also not the type of person who barely eat.

Thoughts from last night kept running through your mind. So your food in front of you went untouched.

Steam curled off roasted vegetables and stew, but the smell made your stomach twisted. You hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. The pumpkin juice tasted like nothing.

Your eyes flicked to the other end of the Slytherin table. Where he sat.

Draco Malfoy. Back straight, face pale, eyes empty. Talking to no one. Laughing at nothing.

Not looking at you.

He hadn't in days. Hadn't walked you to class. Hadn’t answered your notes. Hadn’t touched your hand.

You realized you were lost in your thoughts once more, so one of your friend nudged you, bringing you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" said one of them, which made you nodded. You lied.

As you took a bite of your dinner, Draco stood up from his seat, walking outside. Questions mark above your head.

You walked, trying to approach him. Several times you bumped into other students who either wanted to leave or had just arrived.

The stone corridor just outside the Great Hall stood nearly empty. Only the sound of rain—soft, steady, relentless—echoed beneath the arches.

You stepped through the heavy oak doors and stopped. He was already there.

Leaning against the cold stone pillar just beyond the entrance, his cloak pulled tight, arms crossed. Rain misted through the open archway, darkening his sleeves and clinging to the ends of his pale hair.

He was waiting, like he knew what you would do next.

He didn’t flinch when you said his name. “Draco.”

He turned slowly, but he already knew it was you.

You walked toward him, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Wet gravel crunched under your boots.

"Can we talk?" you asked, voice careful, hesitant.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said gently. “You barely look at me anymore. You don’t show up. You don’t write. You just… disappear.”

His jaw tightened. He didn't speak—at first. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of water dripping from the roof above them.

“I know something’s wrong,” you said, stepping closer. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me. Didn't you believe in me?”

“I’m not,” he said quietly.

“Then talk to me.”

His breath hitched. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” you whispered. “With me, you always can.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—eyes dull, exhausted, and soaked with something heavier than the rain. Something cracked in his gaze, and it nearly pulled you to him. Nearly.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said finally, voice rough and barely above the rain. “Not with you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I still look for you in every room—I still reach for you when I sleep. But I ruin everything I touch, and I can’t do that to you again.”

Your heart dropped. A coldness even deeper than the rain settled in your chest.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I need to let you go,” he said, quieter now, like the words broke apart as they left his lips. “Before I ruin you.”

You stepped back slightly, rain slipping down your face like tears you hadn’t yet shed. “Draco…”

“I thought keeping you close would make it easier, but it doesn’t. It makes it worse. Every time I look at you, I think about how much worse I’ll make things. How much closer danger will get.”

“You think I care about that?”

“You should,” he snapped—then caught himself. His voice softened again. “You should.”

Rain pattered harder on the stones between you, soaking the silence that followed.

“I love you,” he said, like it hurt to admit. “That’s why this has to stop.”

Your eyes glistened, and you couldn’t tell if it was rain or heartbreak stinging worse.

“You think walking away protects me?”

“It’s the only thing I have left to offer.”

You stood still, water dripping from your sleeves, hair clinging to your cheeks. The ache in your chest bloomed, raw and splitting.

Draco took one step back.

“This… this is me doing the right thing. For once.”

And before you could stop him—before you could plead, or scream, or simply reach for his hand—he turned.

He walked past you, slowly and unsteadily, splashes of rain soaking through the folds of his robe, into the silence he left behind.

You didn’t look back.

You noticed how your cheeks turned wet, but you were guessing, was it your tears, or was it the rain.

There was him behind you, Draco paused as he reached one of the steps, as he tightened his fists, making his nails dug into his palms, turning it pale.

Just for a second.

He didn’t look back.

But he never forgot the look in your eyes.

Rain kept falling. And so did everything else.

3:35 ──ㅇ─────── 10:26

You met his eyes sometimes. Walking past him, being in the same class as him, looking at each other while eating dinner or maybe seeing him between dark green uniforms in quidditch.

You began to notice how tired his eyes were becoming and to be honest you hoped he noticed yours.

It had been months. Months of pretending.

Of passing each other in corridors like strangers who once shared something more than just glances. But you never forget how he used to look at you, how his perfume smell.

He looked worse lately.

There was some sort of sadness in his looks.

And the kind of weight on his shoulders that couldn't be seen—only felt.

It was late at night and as a prefect, your patrol shift stretched longer than usual — the kind of quiet that made the corridors felt too wide, too empty. A low winter wind howled faintly outside the stone walls, and your wand tip glowed softly as you wandered through the dim second-floor corridor near the unused classrooms.

Just as you rounded the corner near the trophy room, you stopped.

The faint sound of hurried breathing. Movement. Pain.

It was coming from the alcove behind the old tapestry — the one that led into the long-forgotten dueling chamber.

You stepped forward carefully, wand raised. The sound grew louder. Someone was muttering—barely audible, but cracked with frustration.

And then you saw him.

Draco.

His shirt sleeve was pushed up, his back to you, arm braced against the wall. His other hand clutched something sharp — a bit of broken mirror — digging it into the skin just beneath the Mark. His wand sat discarded near his feet, and blood dripped silently to the stone.

“Draco?”

Your voice wasn’t loud. Just there. And that was enough.

He froze.

Turned, slowly.

His eyes were wide, panicked — not with fear of you taking points away from Slytherin even though you couldn't, but with shame. He quickly let the shard drop with a clatter and stepped back, like he could hide the damage before you saw it.

Too late.

You rushed to him, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. He winced, but didn’t fight you.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, voice shaking. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Let go,” he muttered. “Go away—”

“You’re bleeding, Draco.”

He tried to pull his arm back again, but you held on.

“You think this will fix it?” you hissed. “Tearing yourself apart won’t make it disappear.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked at you — eyes rimmed red, teeth gritted, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might shatter.

“I thought it would help,” he finally choked. “I thought if I could just… hurt it enough, it would stop feeling like it’s part of me.”

You didn’t know whether you were angry or heartbroken. Maybe both.

You reached into your robe pocket, pulling out a small healing balm Madam Pomfrey had given you earlier that day for your kit. Without a word, you gently cradled his arm, dabbing at the broken skin, even as he looked away.

“Stop,” he said quietly.

“No.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

He finally looked back at you — and there it was. The ache. The regret. The pieces of him that he'd buried ever since he took the Mark.

You wrapped the cloth around his arm slowly, bandaging the wound with shaking hands. You didn’t ask if he was in pain. You knew he was.

“You’re not alone,” you whispered. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The touches he'd been craving for months made him remained silent, "You're still you, maybe not the one that I know then — but the one who always try."

"It's okay to reach up on me for everything. I always stay."

He said nothing.

But when your fingers lingered on his, he didn’t pull away.

He stared down at you — this girl who used to be his, who still saw him under the dark ink and cracked skin — and something in him crumbled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

You stood up.

"There's no need to apologize,"

"I expect you at Hospital Wings tomorrow before your first class, for better treatment." you said ignoring what he said earlier. Still holding his hand, tracing the Mark while he remained silent.

"I won't tell them, I promise." you added as you let go of his hand. "You should go back, before someone, especially Professor Snape sees you."

He nodded. You leaved, you never wanted to. You were expecting him to hold your hand, not wanting you to go away like what happened in the past.

And for a moment, the war outside — and the one inside him — went quiet.

6:30 ─────ㅇ──── 10:26

The next morning you waited at the Hospital Wing entrance, fingers fidgeting at your sides.

Your head stood up as you heard footsteps — Draco walking toward you. "Let's head inside."

You stepped in. The Hospital Wing smelled like antiseptic and fresh bandages. A pale sun filtered through the windows, and the school was still quiet — not yet awake enough to ask questions.

"Good morning Madam. We are really sorry to disturb you this early but Draco really needs a treatment for his hand." You showed how his left hand was covered.

“What in Merlin’s name—Miss [Last Name], he should’ve come to me last night!” Madam Pomfrey hissed as she saw you.

Draco shifted behind you, eyes down.

“He didn't want to disturb your rest,” you murmur. “And he… didn’t know how to ask.”

The matron narrowed her eyes.

“I ought to alert Professor Snape—”

“Oh there's no need,” you said, louder now. “I can take care of it. Just this once.”

She hesitated. Then, to your surprise, sighs.

“Five minutes. And I will check your work. He’s lucky it’s you.”

You led him to the bed tucked furthest in the back — the one with the curtains drawn. It’s quiet. Private. Safe.

Draco sat stiffly on the edge.

His sleeve was already pushed back. You opened the cloth you used last night, exposing the now-cleansed but still angry-looking skin surrounding the Mark. The edges were red and scabbed. The center — the Dark Mark itself — looked darker somehow. Like it’s burrowed deeper now that he tried to scrape it away.

“This will sting,” you murmured.

“So did last night,” he said hoarsely.

You gently dabbed healing salve over the raw skin, using soft gauze and your bare hands. His arm twitched once, but he didn’t pull away. He watched you — not the wound.

Like he’s not sure he deserves this.

Like it’s strange to be touched with kindness.

“You don’t flinch,” he said quietly. “When you see it.”

“I see you. Not just the scar.”

His lips parted slightly. His eyes soften — but also flickered with something like grief.

“You could’ve left me there. Last night. You saw what I did to myself.”

“Like I said, I stayed.” You looked up at him, gaze steady. “I’ll keep staying.”

He closed his eyes like it physically hurt to hear.

You finished wrapping the gauze around his arm — slow, gentle, no rush.

“There,” you whispered. “All done.”

7.59 ──────ㅇ─── 10:26

That afternoon, you tucked yourself into a quiet corner of the library — a secluded nook by the tall, arched windows where sunlight spilled across the floor in warm slants. You were lucky you didn’t have classes, so you convinced yourself to enjoy the moment; reading books, letting yourself be still.

Dust motes floated in the golden light. The scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air. You turned a page slowly, eyes steady on the words of the novel Hermione had lent you.

Then — footsteps. Slow, hesitant. Drawing closer.

They stopped just beside your table.

“You’ll get cramps just standing there,” you said without looking up, voice soft but knowing.

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… needed to say something.”

“You better say it in your free time if you’re in a hurry.”

“I’m not in a hurry—”

“Then sit.”

Draco sat beside you, an apple in his hand. He leaned his back slightly into the backrest behind him, looking out the window. “I was just here saying thank you. And sorry.”

The silence that followed was a hushed one — not awkward, not tense. Just... waiting.

You didn’t look at him yet. Just turned one last page, then closed the book carefully, resting it atop a small stack beside you.

He shifted. His fingers tightened around the apple. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No,” you said gently. “Stay.”

He did. And the quiet felt more peaceful now — like the space between two breaths.

“There’s no need to apologize,” you said at last, still not facing him fully. “Why?”

“I never blamed you.” You paused, then added, “But I’ll take it if you mean it.”

He exhaled a dry laugh. “You should’ve. I shut you out. I walked away. I—” his voice cracked slightly, “I did a lot of things I regret.”

“I know,” you replied. “I saw it in your eyes, even when you pretended not to look at me.”

He looked at you properly this time.

“I never hated you, Draco. I was hurt, yes. But I understood. I still do.”

He frowned. “How could you possibly understand that?”

“Because I know what fear looks like. I know what it feels like to be told that power matters more than people. I know what it’s like to lose pieces of yourself just trying to survive.”

Your hands began to touch his; soft, and cold. You gently lifted the sleeve of his robe, softly stroking the scar you had treated this morning.

“I didn’t understand what you were going through until I saw that—until I saw the scar,” you said.

He didn’t answer. He was focus, at you, at how soft you were treating him.

You let go of his hand and began to look down at your lap. “You let me go because you thought you had to. I won’t hold that against you.”

“But I didn’t want to let you go.”

“I know.”

He turned a little more toward you, hair falling into his eyes. The light from the window gave his pale skin a ghostlike glow.

“I’m not saying what happened was okay,” you added. “But I am saying it’s not too late. We’re still here. We still get to choose.”

Something flickered in his expression — not quite a smile, but something softer.

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

He stared at the apple for a moment, then offered it to you. “It’s a bit bruised. Like us.”

You took it anyway.

“Then it’s perfect.”

The two of you sat quietly for a while, side by side in the warm hush of the library. The candles glowed low. A few pages rustled nearby, but the rest of the world seemed far away.

“So,” Draco said at last, breaking the silence. “You’re not going to take points from Slytherin?”

You took a small bite of the apple and raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“I sneaked out last night.”

You snorted. “If only I could.”

The light beginning to fade around you — and for the first time in months, it didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt like the start of something new.

10:26 ─────────ㅇ 10:26

ⓒ cookieloveschoochip, do not copy, translate, or repost

[cookieloveschoochip]

Unplanned

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ bikers!re4!leon kennedy x mechanicfem!reader

Summary ; You’ve fixed plenty of bikes, but none as often as Leon Kennedy’s. He always has an excuse—bad luck, a busted chain, or engine trouble. At first, he’s just another racer, another job. But over time, something shifts.

warning ; Leon might be out of character, bad/wrong grammar, slight curse, kissing

wc ; 2,2k

genre ; fluff

a/n : This is actually my first time making fan fiction with other language. I'm really sorry for all mistakes here cz english isn't my first language (so warning for bad or wrong grammar) but i'll try to write it better ;)

You were fixing bikes as usual, the clock ticking past 9. Everything was fine—no distractions, no interruptions. That was until a familiar voice called out from not too far away.

“Still at it?”

You glanced up from your work to see Leon leaning against the garage door with something in his hand.

“What else would I be doing?”

He smirked, stepping closer, “Maybe taking a break for once?”

You scoffed, wiping your hands on a rag, “Says the guy who spends hours on the track,” Leon chuckled, tilting his head, “Touché,"

He walked towards the nearby chair, placing the things he brought on the table right beside where he sat, "What'd you bring?" you asked without looking at him. You were too focus.

"drinks," he pulled out two cups of coffee out of the plastic bag. Putting it on the table so you could see it clearly, "Do you have plans after this?," he asked as he took a sip from the cup.

You though to yourself, "Maybe no, I'm planning on closing early. Maybe right after you left," you said. Dropping your things behind as you stood up and wash your hand.

"You don't ask me to fix your bike or something?" you joked, since the only reason he came here was asking you to fix his bike. Even though he barely asked you that know.

"I was gonna ask you that. But asking you to fix my bike means you have to close a little late," he chuckled as you sat beside him, "Oh─maybe, I can make an exception for you," you replied.

"You're being kind because you know I bring you snacks, aren't you?" he asked. With a straw near your lips, you said, "We can go with that" you let a simple smile as you leaned your back slightly.

"Are you busy at 7? Tonight?" he mused suddenly.

You shook your head, "No,"

"You sure?" he added.

You nodded, putting your drink aside, "Yep,"

He looked at you. Glancing softly, "I wanted to go on a ride with Chris. But he said he couldn't go," you listened to all of the words he said carefully, "So I was thinking about inviting you instead,"

You looked at him. Waiting for him to continue his sentence cause he could've been joking, but it seemed like he didn't. You tapped your cup, "I would love to," you answered.

"Pick you up at seven?" Leon asked, still glancing at you. You nodded.

"Seven, then," Leon stood up, "Where are you going?" you pressed, watching his actions.

"Going home, taking rest. I don't wanna be late for tonight," he said. You raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. A grin tugged at your lips. "Oh? So you do know how to take care of yourself now?" you teased.

Leon let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly, "I could ask you to take care of me if I was sick," His smirk deepened, eyes flicking to yours with that unreadable glint he always had.

Before you could come up with a comeback, he stretched lazily, slipping his gloves back on, "Anyway, see you tonight,"

And just like that, he swung a leg over his bike, revved the engine, and disappeared from your eyesight.

You stood there for a moment, watching the red taillight disappear down the road, the low growl of his engine still lingering in the air. You sighed, closing your garage.

When you got back inside your house, Leon's words lingered in the air which you couldn't get rid of. Something about him stopping by, about the way he smirked before leaving—it stuck with you longer than it should have.

─────────────────୨ৎ────────────────

Time passed. It was almost 7. You played with the fabric of your clothes as you waited in the living room.

You kept on opening the camera on your phone. Looking if there was something wrong. Actually, nothing was wrong with the clothes you picked, make up you did, or hair you styled. You looked fine. C'mon, Leon was not taking you on a date.

Your phone buzzed, quickly checking on it. Leon was calling.

"Hey..?" you talked, "You don't want me to get freezing cold out here, don't you?"

You walked towards the door, checking on it. Leon was outside, with his casual shirt, leather jacket─ don't forget his bike. You turned off the call, walked out your house and close the door behind you.

"Damn, am I picking up the right person?" he teased as he let out a small chuckle, "I should ask you out more often," he added.

"To mock me?" you asked, "To see you this pretty,"

You let out a deep breath, "So are we leaving or not?" time was ticking and you couldn't wasted it. Leon huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he adjusted his gloves, “Impatient, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing, “Time’s ticking, Kennedy,”

Instead of responding right away, Leon reached for the spare helmet dangling from his bike’s handlebar. He stepped closer, lifting it slightly, “Here. Let me,”

You blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t protest as he carefully fit the helmet over your head. His fingers brushed against your skin as he adjusted the strap under your chin, making sure it was snug, “Not too tight?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more focused.

You swallowed, shaking your head, “It’s fine,”

Leon’s lips quirked into a small smirk as he tapped the top of your helmet lightly, “Good. Can’t have you falling off,”

He stepped aside, gesturing for you to get on the bike. You did, settling behind him, hands hesitating for a moment before wrapping around his waist. The warmth of his jacket seeped through your fingers, grounding you.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured, the smirk evident in his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

And with that, the engine roared to life beneath you, the vibration thrumming through your body as Leon eased onto the road. The cool night air nipped at your skin as the city lights blurred past, the rhythmic purr of the engine filling the silence between you. It wasn’t long before the destination loomed ahead, but for now, the ride itself felt like its own kind of escape.

Leon parked his bike near the entrance, the engine’s steady hum fading into silence as he kicked the stand down.

“A carnival?” you asked as Leon reached for your helmet, his fingers brushing against your chin while he unfastened the strap. The carnival lights flickered across his face in reds, blues, and yellows. Laughter, chatter, and the clang of game booths filled the air, blending with the sweet scent of popcorn and the distant tune of a carousel.

“What? You don’t like it?” he questioned, tilting his head slightly.

You shook your head, “No. It’s just... I'm not expecting you to brought me here,”

You huffed, “Anyway─ if you drive your bike like that, pretty sure it'll break down soon,”

Leon only chuckled, “I could just ask you to fix it,” he mused, tucking the helmet under his arm.

You shot him a glare, but he only shrugged before nodding toward the entrance, “C’mon, before we waste more time standing around,”

Falling into step beside him, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. There was no mention of why he’d asked you to come along, no unnecessary explanations—just Leon being Leon. But as your arms brushed slightly while walking, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more beneath it all.

The air carried the sweet scent of cotton candy, buttery popcorn, and smoky grilled food. Laughter and excited screams from the roller coaster blended with the lively chatter of the crowd. Nearby, an old speaker played a slightly distorted carousel tune, adding to the carnival’s nostalgic charm.

As you wandered through the carnival, your eyes landed on a booth lined with colorful balloons, their glossy surfaces reflecting the bright lights overhead. The objective was simple—pop enough of them with darts, and you’d win a prize.

Leon caught your gaze lingering on the plush toys hanging above the counter, “See something you like?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Just looking,”

Leon stepped up to the booth, fishing out some cash, “Yeah? Well, let’s test my luck,”

The attendant handed him a set of darts, and Leon weighed one in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. He shot you a quick glance, “Any requests?”

You chuckled, crossing your arms, “Something cute,”

Leon exhaled through his nose, a small grin tugging at his lips, “No pressure, then,”

His first throw hit dead center, the balloon popping instantly with a sharp snap. He huffed in amusement, “Not bad, right?”

The second dart flew slightly off, grazing a balloon but not bursting it. Leon clicked his tongue, adjusting his stance before tossing the third. Another direct hit.

“You’re really trying, huh?” you teased, leaning against the counter.

He scoffed, “If I’m doing this, I’m winning you something,”

The last few darts landed true, and the attendant gave an approving nod before gesturing toward the wall of prizes, “Pick whichever one you want,”

Leon reached up without hesitation, grabbing a small, stuffed wolf. He turned to you, pressing it into your hands, “Here. Suits you,”

You blinked down at the plush, then back at him, “What, because I bite?”

He smirked, “Exactly,”

Shaking your head, you hugged the stuffed cat close, “Guess I’m keeping it, then,”

Leon stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching you with a look softer than the carnival lights around you, “Guess you are,”

Both of you walked away from the booth. The night was still young, and you didn’t want to waste it, so you tried to make the most of it. The sweetness of cotton candy melted on your tongue—you couldn’t even remember the last time you indulged yourself like this.

Leon helped you win lots of games. You didn't ask him to do it for you. He said it was a way to repay you after all your hard work fixing bikes, including his.

The night passed with flashes of light. Carrying a lot of things wasn’t really your forte, that's why now Leon was the one carrying it. Actually not much, just a few stuffed animals that Leon managed to win for you.

“Getting tired yet?” Leon asked while you rest yourself on the nearest chair.

You rolled your shoulders, “Not at all,” you lied, though your legs begged for mercy.

Leon smirked knowingly, “Good,” he teased, nodding toward the Ferris wheel, “Then one more won’t hurt,”

Compared to the chaos of the night, the Ferris wheel felt like an entirely different world. The soft creak of the metal, the slow ascent, the distant hum of the carnival below—it all felt quieter, more intimate.

Leon stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers just brushing your shoulder, “This was fun,” he murmured, eyes trained on the view, though his focus seemed elsewhere.

You nodded, watching the carnival shrink beneath you, “Yeah, it was,”

The Ferris wheel carried you both higher, the world below fading into a blur of neon lights and distant voices. The air was cooler up here, quieter, as if the rest of the night couldn't reach you. You felt the warmth of his arm near you, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and for the first time all night, there was no rush—just the two of you and the slow turn of the wheel.

Leon exhaled, shifting slightly, his fingers grazing against yours before he turned to face you fully, “You know,” he started, voice softer now, “I didn’t ask you to come with me just because Chris bailed,”

You blinked, tilting your head, “No?”

He shook his head, a small, almost nervous chuckle escaping him, “No. I just… I wanted to spend time with you. Alone. Without me making up excuses just to see you,”

Your heart stilled for a beat before picking up again, a warmth blooming in your chest.

Leon ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like he was still piecing the words together, “I don’t know when it started, but it’s been stuck in my head for a while now. How much I like being around you. How much I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was saying any of this. Then, meeting your gaze again, his voice softened, “I just like you. A lot,”

The confession hung between you, delicate but firm, like a secret finally let loose into the night air.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady, “You took me to a carnival just to say that?”

Leon huffed a laugh, tilting his head, “Figured I’d make it memorable,”

A smile tugged at your lips, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. His grip tightened instantly, like he’d been waiting for it.

“Yeah,” you murmured, glancing at him from beneath your lashes, “It’s definitely memorable,”

Leon studied you for a moment longer, then, without hesitation, he leaned in, closing the space between you. The first kiss was gentle, almost testing, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his free hand cupping the side of your face. It was slow, unhurried—like he wanted to savor the moment, like he’d been holding back for too long.

By the time the wheel carried you back down, he pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His thumb brushed along your cheek, a quiet smile playing on his lips.

“So,” you whispered, breathless, “this wasn’t about repaying me?”

Leon pressed another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, “Not even close,”

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Bonus :

Leon lingered at your doorstep, his weight shifting slightly as if debating something. His gloved hand dipped into his pocket before pulling out a small object, the metal glinting under the porch light. He hesitated for a beat, then gently took your hand, placing it in your palm.

"Here," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your fingers before he let go.

Curious, you opened your hand, revealing a small silver wolf keychain. It was sleek and well-crafted, its eyes carved with sharp precision. You ran a fingertip over its smooth surface, glancing up at him. “A wolf?”

Leon exhaled a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah,” He shifted his gaze to yours, something unspoken flickering in his deep blue eyes, “Figured it suited you,”

You raised a brow, tilting your head, “How so?”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Loyal. Strong. A little stubborn,” His voice dropped slightly, more serious now, “The kind of person you want in your corner,”

Your heart gave a small flutter at his words, warmth spreading through your chest. You turned the keychain over in your fingers, feeling the cool weight of it, “So, what does that make you?”

Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Used to think I was a lone wolf.” He glanced away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then met your eyes again, softer this time, “But… maybe I don’t want to be anymore.”

The words settled between you, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just giving you a keychain—he was giving you a piece of himself.

You swallowed, your fingers closing around the tiny wolf, “Then I guess I’ll have to stick around and make sure you don’t forget that,”

His smirk softened into something more tender, “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now, “I’d like that,”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The night air felt warmer somehow, charged with something unspoken yet deeply felt. Then, before he could turn away, you reached for his wrist, stopping him.

Leon stilled, his eyes searching yours.

Without a word, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the way his breath hitched. When you pulled back, he was looking at you like you’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.

His fingers curled slightly, as if resisting the urge to pull you closer. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a small, breathless chuckle, “You’re gonna be the death of me,”

You grinned, stepping back toward your door, holding up the tiny wolf, “Then I guess you better stay close, Kennedy,”

Leon let out a soft laugh, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally took a step back, “See you around,” he murmured.

And with that, he walked into the night—leaving you with a racing heart and a silver wolf in your palm, both of which you knew you’d hold onto for a long, long time.

[cookieloveschoochip]

imagine taehoon didn't dyed his hair

[cookieloveschoochip]

CUTE CUTE CUTE AGCHGTZJGSGJSUSUFU