#charming without any charisma

[mulliganstavern]

Nobody talks about the Keyleth to Beau to Ashton favorite CR character pipeline do they

[sixeyesonathiel]

cw: dubcon, non-con elements, somnophilia, manipulation, codependency, obsessive behavior, jealousy, netorare themes, explicit sexual content (penetrative sex, oral, fingering, degradation, breeding kink, choking, spit kink), voyeuristic surveillance, panty theft, dacryphilia, power imbalance, emotional abuse, forced dependence, explicit language, 18+ only, minors DNI.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s the sole heir of the gojo conglomerate, a silver-spooned prince with eyes like shattered sapphires and a grin that cuts deeper than any blade, born into a world where desire is a currency he spends without thought, yet starved for something real beneath the polished veneer of his charmed life. his penthouse is a glass cathedral overlooking tokyo, where he throws lavish parties to drown out the silence of his own heart, but it’s the glimpse of you—singing in a smoky bar, fake diamonds glinting in your ears, rented dress clinging to your curves—that snags his attention like a hook in his throat. he books you that night, not for your body, but for the way your sharp tongue slices through his bullshit, offering you a room in his apartment by dawn because he can’t stand the thought of you slipping back into the grime of your world.

rich boy roommate satoru who you meet under the dim glow of a bar’s stage lights, your voice a sultry thread weaving through the crowd, fake earrings catching the flicker of neon as you belt out lyrics about heartbreak you’ve never let yourself feel. he’s lounging in a vip booth, all long limbs and careless charisma, but his gaze locks onto you—not your body, but the defiance in your eyes, the way you hold the mic like it’s a weapon, and when he approaches you after, offering a wad of cash for “just a chat,” you laugh in his face, thinking he’s another rich prick playing games, until his soft, persistent charm and a promise of no strings convinces you to follow him to a quiet diner where he listens, really listens, to your stories of scraping by. by morning, he’s dangling keys to a spare apartment in his building, calling it a favor, but the hunger in his stare when you accept betrays the lie—he’s already weaving a web to keep you close.

rich boy roommate satoru who wastes no time reshaping your world, his generosity a velvet trap as he floods your closet with dresses, silk skirts so short they barely skim your thighs, tops that hug your tits until they spill over, all delivered with a sheepish grin and an “oops, must’ve misjudged the size.” he insists he’ll toss them and order replacements, but you, stubborn and wary of owing him more than you already do, shrug and wear them anyway, oblivious to how his breath hitches, eyes darken when he catches you in the kitchen, your tits practically falling out as you pour coffee. every morning, he tells himself he’s saving you from the life you led before him, erasing the cheap glitter of fake diamonds with real ones—earrings and a necklace that gleam like his wealth, a sparkling collar to mark you as his.

rich boy roommate satoru who can’t stand the thought of you selling yourself to strangers, his jaw tightening when you mention your clients, their sweaty hands and clumsy thrusts, because in his mind, you’re too good for that filth, too pure for the muck of your past. he tells himself he’s protecting you, offering you a job at one of his company’s cushy offices—easy work, fat paychecks—but when you shyly refuse, citing the debt you already owe him for the apartment, his blood simmers, because how can you be so demure, so soft-spoken, when you’re spreading your legs for anyone with enough cash? he masks his irritation with a lazy smile, thinking he’ll mold that innocence into something that belongs only to him, even if it means breaking you first.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got eyes everywhere, not that you’d ever notice—tiny cameras tucked into the corners of your apartment, hidden in the vase of roses he sent, capturing every moment you think is private. he watches you on his phone at 3 a.m., your silhouette slipping out of a too-tight dress, or your fingers brushing against your panties as you change, and he’s hard as a rock, stroking himself to the sight of you unaware, his own private show. he tells himself it’s to keep you safe, to make sure no one else is touching what’s his, but the truth is he’s addicted to the thrill, to the secret of owning you without you knowing.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a habit of slipping into your room while you sleep, the city lights casting shadows over your face as he stands over you, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. he traces the curve of your hip with a featherlight touch, sometimes sliding your panties aside to slip a finger inside you, feeling your warmth clench around him as you stir, half-conscious, thinking it’s a dream. he’s careful not to wake you fully, but the thought of you waking up, catching him knuckle-deep, makes his cock throb, because even if you screamed, he knows he could make you beg for more.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s always stealing your panties, pocketing the lacy ones you wear for clients, the ones still damp with your scent, and keeping them in a locked drawer in his penthouse. late at night, he presses them to his face, inhaling deep, jerking himself raw to the thought of you wearing them for someone else, only to come back to him, his bed, his world. it’s a sick ritual, but it fuels his obsession, a reminder that no matter who fucks you, he’s the one who owns your soul.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a silver tongue, seduction dripping from every word when he leans close, whispering how much better he could make you feel than those clumsy johns you service. he’ll catch you in the kitchen, pressing himself against your back, his cock hard against your ass as he murmurs about how he’d eat you out until you’re sobbing, how he’d fuck you so deep you’d forget every other man. you laugh it off, thinking it’s just satoru being satoru, but the way his eyes darken tells you he’s not joking—he’s waiting for the moment you say yes.

rich boy roommate satoru who buys you everything—designer bags, heels that make your legs look endless, perfumes that linger on his sheets—but it’s the diamond necklace he clasps around your throat that feels like a chain. he tells you it’s to replace the cheap shit you used to wear, to make you shine like you deserve, but deep down, he’s marking you, branding you as his creation, his doll to dress up and parade. every time you wear it, he’s reminded of how he’s rewriting your past, making you someone who belongs to him and no one else.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s always touching you, casual but deliberate—fingers brushing your neck when he adjusts your necklace, a hand lingering on your waist when he guides you through a crowded party. he’ll tug you onto his lap during movie nights, his breath hot against your ear as he teases about how you’d look better naked, and though you swat him away, the heat pooling between your thighs betrays how much you crave his touch. he knows it, too, and the smirk on his face says he’s just waiting for you to break.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a knack for showing up when you’re with clients, “accidentally” running into you at hotels or bars, his charming grin masking the rage in his eyes when he sees another man’s hand on you. he’ll slide up, all smooth talk and expensive cologne, introducing himself as your “friend” while his grip on your arm screams mine, and the client scurries off, intimidated by the sheer force of his presence. later, he’ll fuck you in his car, rough and possessive, growling about how no one else can have you, his cock slamming into you so hard the seat creaks, leaving you trembling and marked.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s obsessed with your stories, the way you recount your clients’ fumbling attempts at pleasure with a laugh, detailing their quick finishes and awkward groping. he listens, leaning forward, cock straining in his pants as he imagines you under them, only to replace them in his mind—his hands, his mouth, his dick making you scream instead. he tells himself he’s better than them, that you deserve him, but the twisted part of him loves the details, loves jerking off to the thought of you being used, because it makes his claim on you that much sweeter.

rich boy roommate satoru who tries to wean you off escorting, dangling carrots like a trust fund or a private studio where you could sing instead, his voice soft but insistent as he paints a picture of a life without strangers’ hands on you. you hesitate, not because you love the job, but because his gifts—the apartment, the clothes, the jewelry—already feel like shackles, and taking more would mean surrendering the last shred of your freedom. he hides his frustration behind a playful pout, but inside, he’s seething, because you’re choosing that dirty world over him, and he won’t let that stand.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a thing for your demure nature, the way you blush when he compliments your singing or duck your head when he stares too long, and it drives him fucking wild that you can be so shy while spreading your legs for strangers. he’ll tease you about it, calling you his “little contradiction,” but there’s an edge to his voice, a quiet fury that you can play innocent while letting random men fuck you raw. he wants to ruin that shyness, to make you so dependent on his praise, his touch, that you’ll never look at another man again.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s always pushing boundaries, like the time he “helps” you relax after a long night, his fingers kneading your shoulders before slipping lower, massaging your tits through your dress until you’re gasping. he’ll chuckle, acting like it’s all a game, but when you don’t stop him, he’s sliding a hand between your thighs, fingering you until you’re soaking his wrist, your moans echoing in the penthouse. he doesn’t let you come, though, pulling away with a smirk, saying you’ll have to beg for it next time, conditioning you to need his hands, his control.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a savior complex, not that he’d admit it, convincing himself he’s pulling you out of the gutter, giving you a life you could never have without him. he’ll buy you a grand piano for your singing, install it in his penthouse, and watch you play, thinking he’s giving you a future, not a cage. every gift, every favor, is a thread in the net he’s weaving, and when you thank him with that guileless smile, he feels like a god, even as he’s plotting to keep you his forever.

rich boy roommate satoru who loses his shit when you tell him about your new boyfriend, some stable, kind nobody who takes you to coffee shops and holds your hand like you’re fragile. he’s livid, pacing his penthouse, because he’s been pouring his soul into you—paying your bills, dressing you up, listening to your every word—and you throw it away for a guy who’ll probably fuck you in missionary and call it love? he corners you one night, voice low and dangerous, saying you’re ungrateful, that you’re wasting yourself on someone who can’t fuck you like he can, and the hurt in his eyes cuts deeper than his words.

rich boy roommate satoru who starts sabotaging your relationship, subtle at first—cancelling your dates by “accidentally” scheduling emergencies, planting doubts with offhand comments about how “normal” guys get bored fast. he’ll hack your phone, reading your texts, smirking at your boyfriend’s sappy messages, then send anonymous tips to make him question your loyalty. when that’s not enough, he’ll fuck you in your sleep, slipping into your bed while you’re out cold, his cock sliding into your slick cunt as he groans your name, knowing you’ll wake up sore and confused, wondering why your boyfriend’s touch doesn’t feel the same.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s relentless in bed, the night he finally snaps, pinning you to his mattress, his hands bruising your wrists as he fucks you like he’s punishing you for choosing someone else. his cock slams into you, deep and unforgiving, each thrust hitting your cervix until you’re crying, babbling “i love you, satoru, i love you,” as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin, spit dripping from his lips into your open mouth. he grabs your phone, video-calling your boyfriend mid-thrust, angling the camera to show his balls slapping against your ass, your tits bouncing, your face twisted in pleasure as you scream his name, making sure your boyfriend sees every second of you falling apart.

rich boy roommate satoru who doesn’t stop after the call ends, flipping you onto your stomach, fucking you into the sheets until your voice is hoarse, your body trembling from overstimulation. he’ll pull your hair, growling about how no one else can make you come like this, how your pussy was made for him, and when you’re sobbing, begging for a break, he’ll slow down just to edge you, keeping you teetering on the brink until you’re pleading for his cum. he’ll fill you up, groaning as your cunt milks him dry, then spread your legs to watch it drip out, marking you as his, knowing you’ll never go back to that nobody after this.

rich boy roommate satoru who thrives on your tears, the way they streak your face when he fucks you too hard or when you realize your boyfriend’s gone for good, and he’ll lick them off your cheeks, his tongue hot and possessive. he tells you it’s your fault for pushing him to this, for making him jealous, but the truth is he loves seeing you broken, loves knowing he’s the only one who can piece you back together. every sob makes his cock twitch, and he’ll fuck you again, slower this time, whispering that you’re his, always his, until you’re too exhausted to cry anymore.

rich boy roommate satoru who conditions you to crave him, making you dependent on his touch, his voice, his money, until you can’t imagine a life without him. he’ll withhold affection when you mention work, only to shower you with it when you stay home, training you like a pet to seek his approval, his cock, his bed. by the time you realize you’re trapped, you’re too addicted to his chaos, to the way he makes you feel alive, to ever leave, even when you catch glimpses of the cameras, the stolen panties, the truth of what he’s done.

rich boy roommate satoru who moves you to a new city, far from anyone who might remember your old life, setting you up in a penthouse identical to his, where he can watch you through the cameras he’s installed there too. he’ll visit unannounced, fucking you against the floor-to-ceiling windows, your body exposed to the skyline as he whispers about how no one else will ever have you, how he’s your future, your everything. you don’t argue, because deep down, you know he’s right—you’re his, and the thought of anyone else touching you now feels like a betrayal.

rich boy roommate satoru who buys you a ring, not an engagement ring, but something heavier, a band of diamonds that sits like a collar on your finger, a constant reminder of who owns you. he’ll slide it on while you’re sucking him off, his cock stuffed down your throat as he murmurs about how it’s a promise—you’ll never need to sell yourself again, because you’re his to fuck, his to love, his to ruin. you gag around him, tears mixing with spit, and he laughs, thrusting deeper, knowing you’re too far gone to say no.

rich boy roommate satoru who owns you completely by the end, your body and soul molded to fit his desires, your days spent waiting for his touch, your nights filled with his cock and his voice. he’ll fuck you whenever he wants—on the kitchen counter, in the shower, while you’re half-asleep—each time more possessive, more demanding, until you’re nothing but his slut, his doll, his everything, and you love it, love the way he’s broken you down to nothing but him. you’ll wear his skimpy dresses, his diamonds, his marks, and when he pulls you onto his lap at parties, showing you off like a trophy, you’ll smile, because you’re his, forever his, and there’s no one else you’d rather be.

[nightingale-prompts]

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.

[astrocafecoffee]

Part of fortune in natal chart 💫

❤️ FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY , ENJOY ❤️

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💖 MASTERLIST

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♥️ POF in 1st house/Aries :

- Part of Fortune in the 1st House can give you a subtle magnetism that draws opportunities to you, sometimes without conscious effort. Your energy, charisma, or physical presence can create circumstances where good things simply fall into your lap as you move through the world. This can apply to both personal and professional opportunities, and it's more about the vibe you project than any specific action you take.Since the 1st House deals with your physical presence and the way you move through the world, luck can come to you in bursts, often out of nowhere. These shifts might not always come gradually but could be more of a life-changing event type of energy, bringing sudden success or visibility. Also, you could find that your natural flair for speaking, teaching, or entertaining brings both pleasure and rewards. This can include attracting positive attention or gaining recognition without trying too hard. While the Part of Fortune in the 1st House brings charisma and opportunities, it can sometimes inflate the ego or create a false sense of invincibility. You may feel that things will always work out, or that your charm and presence will be enough to win you over in all situations. This overconfidence can lead to overestimating your abilities or neglecting other important factors in decision-making, which could cause setbacks if not kept in check. With the Part of Fortune here, you may find that major periods of personal transformation,like a change in your appearance, identity, or outlook on life bring sudden bursts of good luck or fortune. This could be moving to a new location, changing careers, or embracing a completely different lifestyle, and each reinvention could feel like a fresh start filled with new possibilities.

♥️ POF in 2nd house/ Taurus :

-The 2nd House governs financial matters, but with the Part of Fortune here, luck may come through developing self-sufficiency rather than relying on others. your most prosperous times happen when you are working independently or generating your own income, often through practical, steady methods. Resource management and the ability to make the most of what you have can bring you good fortune. While others may struggle with managing finances or accumulating wealth, you might find that you have a natural talent for budgeting, saving, or making the most out of limited resources.you may gain financial stability through physical possessions like real estate or art, or by developing a marketable skill or craft that holds value. The more you invest in your personal abilities, the more you are likely to be rewarded.The Part of Fortune here can sometimes bring unexpected financial gains, especially when you least expect them. These might not always come in the form of a large sum of money, but rather as opportunities that lead to long-term wealth or growth. You might receive a bonus, a inheritance, or even gifts that unexpectedly improve your financial situation.People with this placement often experience good fortune when they detach their self-worth from material possessions and learn that true value lies within. You may experience setbacks or delays if you focus too much on material accumulation, and fortune tends to favor those who find balance between their inner and outer worlds.

♥️ POF in 3rd house/ Gemini :

-The 3rd House is all about how you express your thoughts and ideas, and with the Part of Fortune here, you may find that verbal expression or the ability to communicate effectively can bring you good fortune. Whether it’s through writing, speaking, or teaching, the way you convey your ideas is a direct channel to success. Your words may have an impact on those around you which automatically opens doors and creates opportunities that wouldn’t otherwise arise.You may also be lucky in how easily you grasp new concepts and ideas.you attract opportunities when you step out of your usual environment, whether it’s business travel, a spontaneous trip, or even frequent travel within your local area. Even seemingly insignificant movements can bring important insights or new connections that impact your life positively.your fortune is strongly tied to your ability to tell stories or express yourself through the written word. Whether you’re a blogger, author, journalist, or someone who enjoys personal journaling, there may be luck and success tied to the act of sharing your thoughts and ideas with others.Try tosatisfy your intellectual curiosity and pursue a range of topics or subjects that spark your interest. This can lead you to uncover new opportunities in unexpected places.Teaching or sharing your knowledge is another area where you may find luck. Whether it’s formal education, mentoring, or casual instruction, you might experience good fortune when you help others learn.

♥️ POF in 4th house/cancer :

-People with this placement often find that their greatest source of luck comes from a nurturing home environment. This doesn’t necessarily mean you must come from an affluent background, but rather that having a safe, supportive, and stable home provides a foundation for all other areas of your life to flourish. If you have a strong emotional connection to your home, fortune may flow more freely into your life when you prioritize the comfort and harmony of your living space.Luck could come through inheritances, family business, or ancestral traditions that offer unexpected opportunities or stability. Even if your family doesn’t have monetary wealth, there may be wisdom, support, or connections that you inherit and that bring good fortune. Understanding and honoring your ancestral legacy can help unlock deeper layers of fortune.People with this placement might find that owning or working with property brings good fortune, especially if it’s connected to their roots. Whether it’s investing in property, owning a family home, or returning to your roots (a hometown or country), there’s a potential for prosperity through real estate or land that is deeply connected to your personal history.you may find luck in more introverted, quiet, or private pursuits. Activities that occur behind the scenes, away from the public eye, can bring the greatest rewards. This could involve working from home, engaging in introspection, writing, or pursuing hobbies that allow you to nurture your soul and emotional life. Part of Fortune here might find success or luck in careers or activities related to emotional healing, psychotherapy, or working with others to resolve family trauma or emotional wounds. You might experience challenges or karmic patterns related to family dynamics, but working through these lessons, whether it's about independence, healing, or family unity ,will ultimately bring you greater prosperity.

♥️ POF in 5th house/leo:

-One of the most significant manifestations of the Part of Fortune in the 5th House is that creativity and self-expression are powerful conduits for good fortune. You might find that your artistic talents whether in writing, painting, music, or performance are directly tied to your luck. The more freely you express yourself in a creative way, the more likely you are to attract opportunities, recognition, and successyou may find that you are more fortunate when you bring fun and spontaneity into your life. This placement often rewards joyful interaction, so the more you let go and have fun in relationships, the more likely you are to attract positive energy and serendipitous events.The 5th House governs children and parenthood, so the Part of Fortune here suggests that having children or being involved with them can bring significant blessings and good fortune. perhaps you have children who bring unexpected joy and opportunities. Alternatively, if you're not a parent, your involvement with children, such as through teaching, mentoring, or charitable work, could be a source of good fortune and personal growth.good fortune can come when you are free to express yourself authentically and creatively, without restraint or inhibition. The more you align with your true self, whether through your personal style, artistic endeavors, or hobbies, the more likely you are to encounter opportunities. Good luck.

♥️ POF in 6th house/Virgo :

- People with this placement often find that they experience good fortune when they are helping or contributing to others well-being, whether through their work, volunteering, or personal relationships. The more selflessly you give, especially in service-oriented roles, the more you may find that opportunities and rewards come your way.good fortune comes when you take care of your health or when you focus on wellness and preventive care. People with this placement often find luck in health-related fields, whether it’s by working in healthcare or simply through adopting a healthy lifestyle. By taking care of your physical body and being mindful of your well-being, you may experience more energy, vitality, and prosperity in other areas of life.Some people with this placement may find good fortune in careers related to holistic healing, natural remedies, or other alternative therapies. Energy work, herbalism, and even mental health counseling may offer paths to both personal fulfillment and external success.you may find that you create opportunities for yourself when you focus on making other people’s lives better. Teaching others how to improve their health, habits, or work efficiency can attract recognition and personal rewards.This placement may also suggest that your work environment plays a crucial role in attracting fortune. You could experience luck through a positive and supportive work atmosphere, where you are able to collaborate well with colleagues and contribute meaningfully to the team.

♥️ POF in 7th house/libra :

-Individuals with this placement often find that they are most successful when they work with others. You not a lone wolf, instead, teamwork and collaboration bring you the most fulfillment. Whether in business or personal life, their fortune is often linked to the people you partner with. This could be in the form of a supportive spouse, a helpful business partner, or even a mentor who helps you achieve your goals.You may find that you naturally gravitate toward individuals who help you grow, succeed, or feel fulfilled. It’s as if the universe aligns you with those who bring out your best qualities and help you thrive, whether in personal relationships or professional networks.If the Part of Fortune is here, it might mean that you have a natural ability to mediate or bring people together in a harmonious way. Your fortune could come from playing the role of a peacemaker, whether in personal relationships, family dynamics, or business negotiations. This ability to create balance and find common ground with others can often bring you opportunities and success.You may find that you are lucky or successful when it comes to contracts, agreements, or any legal matters. This could include things like signing beneficial deals, receiving unexpected support in legal matters, or finding success in professions that deal with law, negotiation, or partnership-building.

♥️ POF in 8th house /scorpio:

- 8th house is all about transformation,the kind that comes through major life changes, endings, and new beginnings. People with the Part of Fortune here may find that they get the most luck when they go through personal growth, or even when they face intense life changes. You might notice that whenever you go through a deep, sometimes difficult transformation,whether it’s emotionally, financially, or spiritually,that’s when things really start to fall into place for you. Your fortune could be tied to your ability to rise from the ashes and transform yourself into something new.You may find that your good fortune comes when you tap into your intuition or explore things that are usually kept behind closed doors, like psychology, astrology, or deep research. Trusting your gut can lead you to lucky breaks that others might miss.you have a natural ability to see the hidden motivations of others or a talent for working in fields that require deep psychological insight such as therapy, counseling, or investigative work. Your emotional intelligence and ability to understand what others are really thinking or feeling can bring a lot of opportunity your way.Also, you may find that successful relationships with powerful people, or those who have resources or influence, can bring you a lot of luck. This could be a mentor, a business partner, or someone who can help you level up. Being in the right place at the right time, with the right person, can really push you toward success.With the Part of Fortune here, you could find that your fortune is somehow connected to previous lifetimes or past experiences you’ve had with other people,whether they’re family, close friends, or significant others. You might not even realize it, but these deep, transformative relationships are helping to shape your path to success and bring you good fortune.also, you are lucky when it comes to things like inheritances and shared finances.

♥️ POF in 9th house/Sagittarius :

-your luck often comes when you step outside your familiar surroundings. Travel, whether it’s across the world or just going somewhere new and unfamiliar, can bring you good fortune. It’s like the universe rewards you when you go on a journey, whether it’s a physical one or a journey of the mind. You might notice that new opportunities or positive changes come when you explore new cultures, meet new people, or discover new places.The 9th house is also the house of higher education,philosophy, higher learning, and wisdom. People with this placement often find that their fortune comes through learning or gaining deeper knowledge. Maybe you’re someone who’s drawn to going to school, taking advanced courses, or learning something new that challenges your worldview. your luck can come from people who help you see the bigger picture, who introduce you to new ideas or philosophies, or who inspire you to grow and stretch beyond your limits. you might find that your good luck comes when you write, teach, or share your wisdom with others—whether that’s through books, blogs, lectures, or podcasts. You might have a natural gift for communicating ideas that can reach a wide audience, and when you express what you know, it brings rewards and recognition.meditation, spiritual practices, or even just exploring new philosophical ideas can open doors for you. You might notice that the more you connect to something bigger than yourself whether it’s through a spiritual practice, philosophy, or worldview the more your life feels blessed or abundant.

♥️ POF in 10th house/Capricorn:

-If your Part of Fortune is in the 10th house, it’s likely that your good fortune will come when you connect with important people or influential figures in your career or public life. Networking, socializing, or even forming partnerships with powerful or high-profile individuals might bring unexpected opportunities your way. The more you engage with the public sphere, the more you will find avenues that lead to good fortune.people with the Part of Fortune in this house often find that their success and fortune grow steadily over time. This isn’t a quick-win placement, it’s about building a solid foundation and working toward something that will pay off in the long run. You could find that your fortune comes through slow, consistent progress in your career or long-term projects that eventually bring significant rewards.The 10th house can also relate to the idea of becoming a master or innovator in your field. The Part of Fortune here suggests that you could find good luck by pushing the boundaries and creating something new or unique in your career. Whether you’re inventing something, leading a groundbreaking project, or simply honing your skills until you become the best in your profession, your fortune may come when you break new ground or achieve mastery in your area of expertise.for some people, the Part of Fortune in this house may suggest that they inherit their fortune, success, or opportunities through family connections or ancestral ties(10th house also relates to your father). This might not be as obvious, but you could find that your family’s history, social standing, or connections play a significant role in the opportunities that come your way.While building a good reputation is important, if you’re too concerned with your public persona, it could take away from the authentic pursuit of your goals. Don’t let your ambition for success or recognition cause you to neglect the inner work needed for real achievement. All the best.

♥️ POF in 11th house/Aquarius:

-The 11th house is all about community, but it's not just any community,it’s about being part of a group that has a shared vision or goal. This could be a professional network, a spiritual group, a political movement, or even a hobby group where everyone works toward a common cause. With the Part of Fortune here, you might find that your best opportunities arise when you connect with people who are as passionate about something as you are, and together you create something impactful and rewarding. you may find that your fortune comes from being involved working in tech, or contributing to innovative ideas. Whether it’s through social media, technology startups, or digital communities, your good fortune may lie in embracing the future and connecting with new, forward-thinking industries or trends.you may find that your good fortune grows when others see your efforts and appreciate your role in making the world a better place. Your recognition may not always be immediate, but over time, it brings rewards and fulfillment.People with the Part of Fortune in the 11th house often find that their luck comes from friendships with people who are different, who might be unconventional, progressive, or ahead of their time. These friendships bring growth, ideas, and opportunities that wouldn’t have come through other relationships. You may find that the people you meet along your journey,especially those who have unique or innovative perspectives,play a big role in bringing good fortune into your life.But,You might sometimes be so focused on the bigger picture that you lose sight of practical steps or details. It’s important to balance your dreams with action and grounded decision-making to ensure your fortune comes in a sustainable way.

♥️ POF in 12th house/Pisces:

-The 12th house is the house of hidden emotions, fears, and sometimes even past life karma. With the Part of Fortune here, you may find that your luck increases as you work through deep emotional wounds or subconscious patterns.Sometimes your biggest breakthroughs come from dealing with what is hidden beneath the surface.People with the Part of Fortune in the 12th house often have an affinity for the unseen or intangible. Whether it’s working with things like intuition, dreams, or art, your fortune tends to come when you engage with things that can’t be touched or easily explained. You might find success in creative pursuits, in fields like psychology or spiritual counseling, or in any profession where you’re working with ideas or energies that are not immediately obvious to the outside world.You may find that you thrive when you work behind the scenes or in more isolated roles. With the Part of Fortune here, one key to unlocking your good fortune is to confront and release self-sabotaging patterns or beliefs that may be deeply ingrained in your subconscious. This could be a process of undoing limiting beliefs from your past, or even past-life karmic patterns that might be influencing your current life. Once you confront these hidden blocks, you open the door to greater prosperity.The 12th house is about retreat, but it’s important to remember that you also need connections to the outside world. Spending too much time in isolation can lead to feelings of loneliness or disconnection, which might block the flow of your good fortune. Balancing time alone with meaningful social interactions is key to making the most of this placement.

Thanks for reading 💫

- PIKO 💖

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ MARRIED LIFE WITH DEAN HEADCANONS

⭑.ᐟ so I lied…. Just got inspired so quickly wrote this! I’ll really be back tomorrow or Sunday but here’s a cute one<3 please interact and send requests if u have any!! (Here’s dad!dean headcanons, and dating Dean headcanons!)

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

⭑.ᐟ He’s so touch starved like he’s never been touched before…. It’s like something’s different the moment your status changes because now he’s a husband and he wants to spoil you even more but he needs your touch EVERY TIME like he’s actually almost annoying in a cute way.

⭑.ᐟdean’s the type of guy who puts everyone above himself, he’ll never prioritize himself over the people he loves. So sometimes he’ll skip entire nights of sleeping so he can watch you, make sure you’re safe next to him, and just be on the verge of tears cuz he can’t believe how lucky he is. Impostor syndrome at its finest he feels like he doesn’t deserve you/this no matter how many times you tell him that he does.

⭑.ᐟ The moment you’ve settled down and promise each other to never go back to that hell of a life, deans never been happier. You’ll catch him cooking breakfast fully singing, dancing or whistling. He’s genuinely happy. His smile doesn’t feel forced, he wants to be here, with you, and you know he misses it sometimes but he’ll never go back because now he has you.

⭑.ᐟlong mornings tangled up in bed together, just the sound of your breathing, not talking, because you’re with each other and you don’t need to talk. You need to take the moment in, and that happens so often at some point that’s just what every morning looks like. Then he’ll cook breakfast, which he’s surprisingly great at, you’ll get ready together and get on with work etc.. whenever you’re together again at night, falling asleep will be the same. Silence, enjoying the moment together without even sleeping until eventually you doze off.

⭑.ᐟhe never falls asleep first. He always finds a way of knowing if you’re asleep or not, and when he gets confirmation he’ll either stay up all night looking out for you even if he doesn’t have to, or he’ll be at peace knowing you’re safe next to him, he’ll fall asleep. Even though he still gets nightmares most nights, they’re not as bad as they used to be because you’re here so he feels better, more grounded, safer.

⭑.ᐟmovie night every Friday, you never miss one. It’s just you and him, either the movie is in the background and you’re having a hot make out session, or you’re wrapped up together on the couch enjoying a shitty movie with snacks all around. Sometimes he’ll take you to dinner before or cook your favorite food. Or sometimes you’ll just go to the movies period. Maybe Dean will fall asleep, and you tease him about it all the time so he’d rather stay home with you.

⭑.ᐟ he sings in the shower… if you’re both in the shower together he’ll go full concert mode and it’s so hilarious that’s almost your favorite time of the day.

⭑.ᐟhe’s such a shit talker…. When he comes home from work he’ll gossip for hours if he has too many things to say, you’ll sit back and laugh in silence because he’s sooooooo annoyingly funny!

⭑.ᐟDean gets hotter with age, so do you. So the passion grows even hotter, day by day. He’s always been hot but his charisma and charm is just so unmatched. AHHHHHHHHHH

⭑.ᐟhe’s always loved making you feel good in bed. But ever since getting married, he’s more careful, softer but also rougher when he needs to be, or when you ask for it. He’ll just do whatever you ask of him. HOWEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hes lowkey a sub sometimes. He’ll whine, he’ll beg. YOU LOVE IT.

⭑.ᐟhe’s so worried all the time he’ll snap his fingers and you’ll be gone. He’s always worried too much about everything and anything, but with you he just doesn’t know why you’re still with him. You make him feel like the best husband ever but there’s still this bit of doubt in the back of his mind that worries you’ll leave. He knows that’s not you- but he’s scared if you don’t leave, you’ll be taken away from him because eventually everyone does in his life. Everyone leaves, or dies.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb @l0v33-rey (comment to be added!)

[imastoryteller]

The Paradoxical Character: 19 Unique Trait Pairings

Here’s a list of 19 wildly unusual, highly contrasting trait pairs that blend quirky or fantastical attributes. These could make for delightfully strange, otherworldly, or surreal characters:

Immensely Patient & Chronically Forgetful Character Idea: They can wait for years without complaint but never remember why they started waiting in the first place. Their endless patience is undercut by the confusion of purpose, creating an aura of timeless mystery.

Unbearably Charming & Involuntarily Invisible Character Idea: This character has charisma in spades but is cursed to flicker out of sight randomly. Their allure is magnetic, but people constantly forget they were even there, adding to their mystique and frustration.

Perpetually Cheerful & Pathologically Suspicious Character Idea: They radiate sunshine and kindness yet believe everyone is secretly plotting against them. Their optimism is baffling, considering they’re convinced of hidden dangers everywhere.

Mind-Reading Empath & Emotionally Oblivious Character Idea: Able to feel others’ emotions intensely, yet baffled by their own, this character has no clue how they themselves feel. They’re highly attuned to everyone else but entirely alienated from their own heart.

Limitless Curiosity & Existentially Terrified Character Idea: Endlessly fascinated by every detail of the universe, yet they’re constantly haunted by the fear of the universe itself. Every new discovery brings wonder and intense dread, creating a fascinating internal tug-of-war.

Brilliant Strategist & Hopelessly Absent-Minded Character Idea: A tactical genius who can plan a perfect heist, yet constantly forgets their own plan halfway through. They’re sought after for their brilliance but just as likely to wander off mid-operation.

Supernaturally Persuasive & Pathologically Indecisive Character Idea: They could talk anyone into anything—if only they could decide what they wanted to say. Their powers of persuasion are legendary, but they take forever to make a single choice.

Ancient Wisdom & Childlike Innocence Character Idea: Despite being impossibly old and wise, they approach every situation with the wonder of a child. They’re both sage and novice, baffling people who come seeking advice but receive only wonder-filled observations.

Obscure Knowledge Hoarder & Shameless Gossip Character Idea: They know every forgotten fact of history yet can’t keep a secret to save their life. This character’s deep knowledge clashes hilariously with their loose tongue, turning historical mysteries into idle chatter.

Zen-like Tranquility & Quick to Panic Character Idea: Usually the calmest person in any room, until anything unusual happens, at which point they’re the first to run. People turn to them for peace until their sudden freakouts reveal a hidden, hilarious irony.

Hyper-Logical Thinker & Ridiculously Superstitious Character Idea: Obsessed with logical consistency yet terrified of stepping on cracks or upsetting minor spirits. Their rationality makes them a master problem-solver, but they’re comically fearful of common superstitions.

Effortlessly Graceful & Magically Clumsy Character Idea: They’re naturally elegant in all they do, but objects randomly fly out of their hands or shatter in their presence. They’re revered for poise but cursed by chaos, creating an aura of unpredictable charm.

Telepathically Intuitive & Immensely Gullible Character Idea: Able to sense the unspoken thoughts of others, but easily duped by the most obvious lies. They sense everyone’s hidden motives but constantly believe in harmless nonsense.

Exceptionally Knowledgeable & Epically Lazy Character Idea: They’ve accumulated endless knowledge from books but refuse to do anything with it. They could save the world but prefer napping and observing others fumble around in ignorance.

Magnet for Coincidences & Cynically Skeptical Character Idea: The most absurd things constantly happen around them, yet they refuse to believe in coincidences. This character is a walking contradiction of fate and disbelief, surrounded by odd events they disdain.

Hyper-Attentive Listener & Mute Character Idea: They pick up every nuance of conversation and are incredibly insightful, but they can’t respond out loud. People find comfort in their presence but struggle to understand their silence and deep gaze.

Radiantly Optimistic & Obsessed with Disaster Preparedness Character Idea: Always smiling and convinced things will work out, yet constantly building bunkers and storing supplies. Their sunny outlook is shadowed by an apocalyptic readiness that baffles everyone.

Unbreakable Memory & Instantly Distracted Character Idea: They remember every moment of their life in perfect detail but are so easily distracted that they rarely finish sentences. They’re a walking history book if only they’d stay focused long enough to share it.

Boundless Energy & Always Asleep Character Idea: They have an endless zest for life and could do anything—if they could just stay awake. People are drawn to their energy, but they frequently fall asleep mid-sentence, leaving everyone in suspense.

[luckystay]

bf!stray kids reaction to...

another member flirting with you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 BANG CHAN

Felix wasn’t doing anything overtly inappropriate—just being his usual charming self, casually complimenting your laugh and playfully nudging your arm.

But Chan noticed. His jaw clenched ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep his usual calm composure.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a scene, but his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers and giving a firm squeeze. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his tone light, though his eyes betrayed his emotions.

Upstairs, away from prying eyes, Chan pressed you against the door gently, his forehead resting against yours. “You know you’re mine, right?” he whispered, his voice low, carrying an edge of possessiveness that made your heart race.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 LEE KNOW

Hyunjin didn’t mean anything by it—it was just his natural charisma shining through as he teased you lightly, his hand brushing against yours as you both laughed.

Lee Know, however, wasn’t laughing. His eyes followed every move, his expression unreadable but sharp.

He didn’t say a word until Hyunjin wandered off. Then, Minho’s hand was on your lower back, guiding you toward the kitchen. “Let’s get something to drink,” he said simply, his tone neutral, but the way his fingers pressed into your back told you everything.

Once inside the kitchen, he pulled you close without warning. “You look too good today,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “Don’t let him get any ideas.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 CHANGBIN

Seungmin’s humor was razor-sharp, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he lightly roasted you, his teasing drawing a smile you couldn’t hide.

Changbin heard it all, his gaze flickering between the two of you, but he kept his composure. For now.

It wasn’t until you were in the car heading home that he spoke. “You seemed to be having a good time with Seungmin,” he said, his tone casual but his grip on the steering wheel just a little too tight.

“Jealous?” you teased.

Changbin glanced at you, his lips curving into a smirk. “Maybe. I just don’t like sharing.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 HYUNJIN

It wasn’t anything dramatic—just Chan being his warm, thoughtful self, adjusting your necklace for you and complimenting how nice it looked.

But Hyunjin of course didn’t think it was that innocent, his smile dimming slightly as he leaned back in his chair, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

later that night, as you lay tangled together in bed, that he finally spoke. “Do you think he touches everyone like that?” he asked softly, his tone teasing but laced with something more serious.

You turned to him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin only smirked, leaning in to kiss you deeply. “Nothing. Just making sure you know who you belong to.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 HAN

Changbin wasn’t doing anything over the top, just resting a hand on your shoulder as he laughed at one of your jokes, his grin warm and genuine.

when Jisung caught it. He froze mid-bite of his food, his eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction.

When you sat back down beside him, Jisung leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’ve got everyone’s attention tonight, huh?”

You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, popping another fry into his mouth. “Nothing,” he said nonchalantly, though his arm slid around your waist for the rest of the night, pulling you closer as if to make a point.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FELIX

Jeongin was being sweet like always, his eyes lighting up as he complimented your outfit. “It really suits you,” he said sincerely, his smile boyish and charming.

Felix watched from the couch, his expression soft but thoughtful.

He didn’t interrupt, didn’t make a scene, but as you sat beside him later, away from everyone’s earshot, Felix leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so popular today,” he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Felix smiled, kissing your temple. “No. But maybe jeongin should be.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SEUNGMIN

Minho’s playful teasing was on full display, his sly grin making you laugh as he pretended to sulk about you “ignoring him.”

Seungmin’s eyes flicked up from his phone, watching the exchange with what appeared to be mild indifference—or so you thought.

He didn’t mention it until a week later, casually bringing it up over dinner. “You seemed pretty close with Minho the other day,” he said, his tone neutral as he scooped another bite of food.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why are you bringing this up now?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Seungmin’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he finally looked up at you. “No reason,” he said lightly. Then, after a beat, he added, “I’d just hate for him to get any ideas.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 I.N

Han’s energy was infectious, his antics leaving you doubled over in laughter as he reenacted a ridiculous story.

Jeongin sat nearby, pouting as his eyes flicked between you and Jisung. “Stop stealing her, hyung,” he finally mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The room erupted into laughter, but Jeongin didn’t join in. Instead, he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arms around you with a huff. “I’m funnier anyway,” he grumbled, his head resting on your shoulder.

Everyone thought it was adorable—and a little funny—but Jeongin made sure to stay glued to you for the rest of the night.

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, jing yuan, aventurine

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (fem! receiving), toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub

⚝ — BLADE

blade feels to you like a storm, his grip on you endlessly overwhelming yet not because he's forcing it on you, no, but because his dependence on you was suffocating.

the stellaron hunter was dangerous, you were very much aware of it, although never pondering on the fact that you were playing with fire here.

his cock slides in between your folds before slipping to your hole, right then, you can feel the hot push of his tip, slow at first, but persistent, burning and stretching you. blade opens you up as you clutch at his shoulders each time, you're certain you can take him, you can't— it won't fit—such always crosses your mind but, you see, your skin was burning and hungry, submitting to him, to his cock sliding in fully— so smooth on your walls, thick inside, searing.

blade clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity, and well— maybe you were, he certainly looks at you with an intensity that borders on desperation, a string he needed to hold on to if he wanted to keep at least a little bit of humanity inside himself or else, he’d fall apart.

"you ground me," he murmurs, voice low, his hand searching for your own as he grips it a little too tightly— his neediness haunting as he slumps forward, still thrusting hungry shoves of his cock into you as the rhythm changes just a little, but the pressure was increasing, becoming more meaningful.

in this rare moments, the way his hands tremble slightly when he brushes your hair behind your ear, there’s a tenderness, yes, but you cannot shake off the feeling of being scared of him— were his words the truth? did he mean what he said? would he hurt you in the end or are you really the one to put a light in his dark, twisted world?

⚝ — JING YUAN

jing yuan was always in control, his charm making each and every friend or foe bend to his will effortlessly— and well, you’re no exception. 

frankly, he's used to people following his lead without question, without turning on their own brains, his words were so fittingly persuasive that you barely even notice when you started agreeing with everything he said.

you whine out a breathy, "fuck, more—" as he laps at your clit, the vibrations of his hums and groans making you arch your back into him— you're so sensitive, jing yuan makes you feel all of it with his tongue, all the nerves down there and how muscle slurped and licked a stripe along your slit to tease you, shamelessly moaning against your pussy right after.

"i’m only looking out for you," he lazily mumbles into your cunt, "I know what's ugh—, what's best for you," his fucked out grin disarms you completely as you look down, admiring the view of his hands, big hands, clutching at your trembling thighs before he gives your stomach an anticipatory twist.

he's not forceful though, don't misunderstand, yeah? because simply, jing yuan doesn’t need to be, his self assured confidence made it feel like any resistance would be literally ridiculous. 

after all, his charisma pulls you in, his beauty and face being chocolate box pretty, ethereal and powerful, leaving you wanting to please him too, so badly yeah, to stay on his good side.

⚝ — AVENTURINE

from the outside, aventurine was unable to be read— and even once you got close to him, you found yourself having more difficulties reading him.

his standards were impossibly high, that's for sure, and he never hesitates to point out when you fall short. for some reason he critiques everything you do, from the way you handle the tasks he's given you to your smallest habits, never failing in exhaustedly rolling his eyes with an edge of frustration.

however, wasn't it just amazing how he was always there to clean up the "mess" you made in getting all the tasks wrong, or anything really.

something unmistakable random could happen in your life, even just a favorite item you suddenly lost and aventurine would always be there to help you— like a white knight.

of course, you cannot question him on anything, he was your superior and losing your job would be the last thing you wanted, next to losing the little relationship you've built over the last couple of months with him.

you feels it in your legs, your stomach, your hands, your soul when he touches you— pleasures you.

it's the desire overtaking you first, making you give yourself up entirely to the harsh rhythm of his hips displaying no mercy. aventurine hisses as you squeeze him, the faintness in his head almost making him swoon as your leg tremble and his cock throbs hard in you, the tremulous thrill inside your belly building to a merciless dance.

"i’ll be here, buried right here—" he hums and grinds his hips, his fingers drawing a line on your stomach, up and down, "feel that? you feel me there?"

"not that you, fuck— deserve it," he grunts, cupping your cheeks and brushing a thumb over your lips, "you made so many mistakes today," he breathes while staring down at his cock splitting your puffy cunt.

he adds, "you should be thankful i was there,"

an embarrassed, little sorry was all you managed to get out in return and ugh— the friction of him rubbing against your walls felt absolutely sickening, like you're about to cum and scream any second now.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[xoxolaw]

+ HOW TO WIN A HEART

in which her friends challenged her to make the scariest guy in school fall in love with her — and she said, “easy.”

GEUM SEONG-JE X READER

CH 1 , CH 2 , CH 3

RULE 1 - MAKE THE FIRST MOVE

Y/N wasn’t just popular.

She was the kind of girl who made popularity look effortless. She wasn’t top of the class or president of any club. She didn’t need to be.

Y/N had that intangible something—a charisma that couldn’t be taught, only envied. Her walk was lazy but commanding, every hallway her runway.

A resting smirk hinted at mischief, bold eyes daring you to keep looking—and most did.

Boys sat up straighter when she passed. Girls checked their hair, tugged their skirts, though the uniforms were identical.

Teachers? They���d learned it was easier to look the other way. She was too clever to get caught, too charming to scold.She texted in lectures without blinking.

Her Instagram stories were mini-dramas, high-stakes, with dangerously good lighting.

She knew everyone worth knowing—and everyone knew her.

Chaos wrapped in lip gloss.

The kind of girl who’d ruin your life and have you thanking her for it.

The It Girl of Kanghak High.

---

“Y/N-sunbae!” A junior half-jogged up, voice cracking with nerves and too much hope.

She didn’t look up from her banana milk. “Don’t say it.”“Say what?”“That you like me. That I’m different. That you’d treat me right.”

He froze, a deer in headlights. “Wait—how did you…”

She glanced up. Eyes sharp, bored, amused. Then, with the warmth of a mercy kill, she patted his shoulder.“You’re sweet,” she said. “Just not my type.”

Her friends dissolved into giggles behind her.“That’s five this month,” Bora muttered, flipping a page in her imaginary stat book.

“At this point, we should charge entry fees,” Jina snorted. Y/N stretched, feline and unbothered. “Honestly, where’s the challenge? You smile once, and they’re planning the wedding.”

“It’s the way you flirt,” Bora said. “That whole ‘I’ll ruin your life and look good doing it’ vibe.”

Y/N winked. “They should know I bite.”

They laughed, lounging in the lazy hour after the final bell on a Friday. Sunlight slanted through the windows, the halls half-empty but buzzing with leftover energy.

Y/N leaned against the wall, banana milk finished, head tilted back, soaking in the golden calm. Bora leaned in. “Oh, right! Someone left something in your desk.”

Y/N groaned. “If it’s another scented letter, I’m filing for harassment.”

“No, really. Pink envelope. The guy looked nervous.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Boys need better immunity. This is tragic.”

Bora grinned. “If you’re so unimpressed, how about a real challenge?”

Y/N perked up. “Go on.”

“Make the next guy who walks around that corner fall for you.”

Jina cackled. “Bora, you’re a menace.”

“Easy,” Y/N said without missing a beat.

But Bora’s smirk vanished.“Wait—no. Never mind—”

Too late. Y/N turned, lips parted in slow curiosity. And there he was.

Geum Seong-je.

The air shifted sideways. Tousled dark hair. Sharp jaw. Expression unreadable—a mix of lazy boredom and quiet threat. One hand in his blazer pocket, the other swinging carelessly.

Two minions trailed him like shadows. The hallway parted like waves, students stepping back by instinct. He didn’t walk. He prowled.

His gaze landed on Y/N, and something flickered—amusement, maybe, or the thrill of something unpredictable.

Bora’s voice cracked in panic. “Y/N—no. Pick someone else. That guy’s not normal—”

But Y/N was already striding forward.Every student in the hall went silent.

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels tapped the tile like punctuation in a rising melody.

She cut across the corridor, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the secondhand fear. She didn’t break pace.

And Seong-je didn’t move. Their eyes locked. A suspended breath—challenge, curiosity, chaos. She stopped inches from him.

Grabbed his collar.

And kissed him.

Not shy.

Not sweet.

A kiss with purpose—bold, deliberate, a spark to ignite a fire. Gasps rippled through the hall. A water bottle hit the floor. Her lips pressed deeper for a heartbeat, her grip tight on his blazer. His scent was sharp and trouble.

She pulled back — just a little breathless — and locked eyes with him.

“You’re cute,” she whispered.

Then turned like nothing happened.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

how's the setting?? 😋😋 This is going to be fun trust me hehehe

[countbarov]

hans and masculinity

I don't like the femme Hans depictions. While I think it's cute how invested people are in Hans and Henry as a couple, I think trying to make them fit a mould where one is passive/submissive/innocent takes a lot of joy out of their dynamic

I can agree completely that Henry is a very masculine guy. He might not fit his society's standards for chivalrous masculinity, but you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who considers him less of a man -- in our and his time -- for his personality. This goes without saying

As for Hans, I think a lot of people are too quick to latch on to his most superficial traits, which easily translate to bottom, feminine, and dramatic for M/M pairings. But he's a lot more than that, even on the surface. We must not forget he is a nobleman: a politician. His charm, wit, charisma, and theatrics are very useful tools. He is well suited for the role of diplomat, which he excels at. But diplomacy is more than honeyed words and concessions; it's also demands, bargains, and deals. He's as active in that role as he is in his personal life

Hans is a flirt, and a romantic at heart, but he always takes the lead in his romantic pursuits. He is known for chasing women constantly, and has a reputation as a womanizer. Even with Henry he takes the initiative. He sits Henry down to confess his feelings (in his dramatic way), expresses a desire to protect and save Henry, and even initiates the kiss. He is not passive in any capacity. He is not waiting wistfully to be carried away. Hans is always the one who initiates

His damsel in distress reputation is well-earned, but must be taken as tongue-in-cheek. He is a nobleman, and the only real noble in Henry's company for much of their adventures, making him the perfect bargaining chip. That's why he's always getting kidnapped. He is worth a lot of money and favours, so naturally he'll be taken alive. It's a no-brainer. But Hans doesn't get captured from his tower after all his knights have been defeated. Hans fights, kills, and commands in the field

Additionally, as Tom McKay himself has said, Hans represents a side of Henry that doesn't get to flourish often. Everything said about Hans' feminine traits exist within Henry as well, and don't get to shine much -- except in Hans' company. Henry is also dramatic, witty, theatrical, and at times flamboyant. It just doesn't flourish with many people

The inverse is true, as well. Henry brings out the more rough and tough aspects of Hans. Let's recall how Hans has Henry drunkenly fight for his own honour in the first game, when Henry's influence on Hans was minimal; let's then compare it to Hans punching a guy in defence of Henry, when they've been together a while. The longer they're together, the more they resemble the other

All this to say that I am very sad at how Hans is being treated. As a queer couple, they exist outside traditional gender dynamics. There's no "woman" in the relationship, there's no passive damsel, and there's no doe-eyed ingénue. They're both active participants, and the reason they're into each other in the first place is precisely this fact

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it's your senior year at the aerospace academy, and over the course of nine months, your connection with caleb shifts from mere classmates and acquaintances to something deeper. but there's one problem—the girl he loves back home.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, non-mc reader, feminine implied reader, some connections to caleb’s 4-star tender moments, angst/hurt + no comfort, kinda long but fast paced

★ 𝐰𝐜: 11.1k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: longest fic i've written yet, go me woot woot :p i wanted to write heartbreak so here it is. pls do not have your therapist bill me, thx! anyways when caleb goes, ‘i wont get a girlfriend’ in stage observer, he sounds kinda down, right? yeah imagine hes thinking about you (the reader) in this as he says that LOL. okay, (try to) enjoy lovelies!! <3

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝!

I never believed I’d let something like this happen to me. 

Yet it crept in quietly, the way all irreversible things do. A shift so subtle I almost missed it, until I was already too deep to turn back.

It was in the lingering glances, in the way the air felt charged in the spaces between us. In the laughter that came too easily, the silences that felt safe, the moments that stretched just a little too long. It was in the way he looked at me; like maybe, for a second, he saw something more.

But love, if you can call it that, isn’t always kind. Sometimes, it’s a quiet war. A battle between logic and longing, between what’s real and what’s only ever been wishful thinking. And when the person you want is still holding onto someone else, someone they can’t seem to let go of, where does that leave you?

I swore I’d keep my balance; though gravity has a mind of its own.

August-

It was breezy, as are most August days in Skyhaven. Fumbling my fingers through my hair, desperately trying to comb through any loose strands from the wind, I tried to make myself look somewhat presentable for my first day of classes. It was senior year, and I wanted to make the most of it for once, as it felt like the past few years had been me barely passing by. 

I sat down in the lecture hall, music blaring through my headphones as I fidgeted nervously with the pen in my hand. It wasn’t long before a figure sat next to me in my peripheral, and I internally groaned.

‘You have this whole ass lecture hall with so many empty seats in this row, and you sit right next to me. Dick.’ I thought to myself.

Seeing the person tap on my desk, I glanced over to notice it was Caleb.

We had crossed paths before, orbiting the same social circles through mutual friends. Our interactions had been fleeting, exchanged pleasantries at gatherings or brief moments of conversation that never really dug beneath the surface.

His lips moved as he spoke but I didn’t hear a word he said over the sound of my music. I pulled one of the speakers off my ear, “What?”

“Well first I said ‘hey, what's up?’, then told you I’m glad to know someone in this class.” Caleb smiled, “But then I realized you weren’t listening.”

His grin was infectious. Then again, everything about him was. Caleb was a campus favorite, and for good reason; his effortless charm and magnetic charisma drew everyone in, leaving them captivated.

I smiled back, “I would’ve listened, I just couldn’t hear you.”

“Shoulda tapped you sooner then.”

We talked as more people trickled in, and conversation with him flowed effortlessly. He was almost unfairly likable, the kind of person who won people over without even trying, it was no wonder he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“Yeah, I failed this class the first time around, so if I want to graduate this spring, I have to finally retake it,” Caleb sighed, shaking his head. “The Caleb failed a class? No way…” Gasping, I clutched my chest in mock shock. “I had no idea you were even capable of failure, Mr. Perfect.”

His lips twitched into a smile at the nickname, but his eyes betrayed him. He shrugged, “Well, I can do it this time around.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I totally didn’t realize I needed this credit.” I poked his hand resting on his desk with my pen, “We’re in this together.”

The professor was about halfway through the syllabus when Caleb started writing on my notebook. 

Do you have class after this?

I looked over at him, mouthing “No”. Not for a few hours, I wrote back. 

Hangout with me after this then

And that’s how I ended up sitting in the quad with Caleb, with the itchy grass prickling my legs and a sweating can of soda in my hand beneath the warm August sun. Yet Caleb’s presence was still warmer; my cheeks and stomach hurt from laughter, and every giggle of mine only fueled the fire of his jokes. 

As the laughter died down, Caleb leaned back on his hands, squinting up at the sky. “Man, I forgot how nice it is to just sit around like this on campus. No deadlines yet, no stress… just kinda existing.”

I took a sip of my soda, nudging his knee with mine. “You make it sound like you’re constantly suffering.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe a little. Gotta keep up the ‘Mr. Perfect’ image, right?”

I tilted my head, studying him. For a second, he looked almost… tired. Like there was more he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how.

“You know you don’t have to be perfect all the time, right?” I said, softer now. “You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to breathe.”

He glanced at me, something flickering in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or relief. Then, just as quickly, his signature grin returned. “Good to know I’ve got my personal cheerleader.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away. “More like your reality check.”

“Even better.” He bumped his shoulder against mine, before laying down on the ground. The sunlight hit his eyes just right, making them glimmer like polished amethyst. With his brown hair tousled against the grass and his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of skin, it wasn’t hard to see why all the girls fawned over him. When it came to looks, Caleb really did live up to the whole Mr. Perfect thing.

“What about you?” Caleb glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “What’s your kryptonite?”

I raised a brow. “Come again?”

He smirked. “Your weakness. What takes you down every time?”

I pretended to think it over, then shot him a cheeky grin. “Probably failure.”

Caleb let out a soft laugh, propping his head up on his elbow. “Alright, I’m sensing some hypocrisy here.”

“It’s not hypocrisy,” I defended, shrugging. “I just fail to take my own advice.”

He tapped his chin, feigning deep thought. “Mm, no, that just makes you a hypocrite. But hey, at least you’re self-aware, Miss perfect.”

Something between us just clicked, that unspoken feeling when you know you’re going to get along with someone. Nothing about our conversation felt forced, it unfolded with an ease that caught us both off guard. I don’t think either of us saw this coming, but somehow, it just made sense.

And so it continued; messing around with Caleb in class, then hanging out in the quad afterward. Our dynamic quickly shifted from casual acquaintances to good friends as our connection bled beyond the classroom. The progression was almost rapid; natural, but undeniable.

Conversations with him came naturally, filled with dry humor, shared ambition, and the kind of unspoken understanding that made being around each other feel easy. We started saving seats for each other without thinking, sharing notes even when we both knew we hadn’t written anything useful, and lingering just a little longer after class, stretching out the moments before we had to part ways.

Afternoons in the quad turned into grabbing coffee, which turned into late-night study sessions that often had more laughing than actual studying. It wasn’t just that we got along; we started to seek each other out, gravitating toward one another like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

It wasn’t just about sharing space; it was about the way we easily fit into each other’s lives like we had always been meant to.

I found myself opening up in ways I never had before, trusting Caleb with thoughts I usually kept locked away. And in return, he let me see past the carefully constructed walls he had built. 

I learned a lot about Caleb in our time spent together; I learned about his dreams and aspirations, his worries and fears, his home back in Linkon and how much of it still clung to him.

And her.

I learned about her.

MC; the kind of nickname all the cool girls had, lifted from their initials like it had always belonged to them. She was innocent, pretty, just the right balance of book-smart and blissfully unaware. The kind of girl who never had to try too hard because the world seemed to bend in her favor. She was perfect in that way, and maybe that’s why Caleb felt like he had to be perfect, too.

She had been his childhood friend, raised alongside him by his gran, their lives tangled together like roots beneath the same old house.

“She’s your sister?” I had asked, unsure of the dynamic.

Caleb hesitated, something unreadable flickering across his face. “No,” he said finally, his voice careful. “Not really. We just grew up together.”

She was everything to him, the quiet force that shaped him in ways he probably didn’t even realize. Everything he did, every careful step he took, was in her image. And suddenly, it all made sense.

The way Caleb kept people at arm’s length, the reason he didn’t have many real friends at the Academy. It wasn't because he didn’t want them, it was because a part of him was still anchored somewhere else; belonged to someone else.

Once, we had sat on the steps outside one of the buildings, his elbows on his knees, staring out at nothing in particular.

“You never really let people in.” I looked over at him, my statement coming out of nowhere.

He let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Was it that obvious?”

“I didn’t get it back then. Thought maybe you just had too many friends to be really close with any of them.”

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “It wasn’t that,” he admitted. “I just… I already had MC. Growing up the way we did, it was always just us. I guess I never really learned how to need anyone else.”

I glanced at him, but his eyes stayed on the horizon, lost in something I couldn’t see.

“You still do that, you know,” I said. “Keep people just enough away.”

He swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Some habits don’t go away easy.”

“So why am I an exception?”

Caleb exhaled slowly, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because you didn’t try to push your way in. You just… stayed.”

I frowned. “That’s it?”

He shook his head, a small, almost self-conscious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No. It’s more than that.” He glanced at me then, something raw in his eyes. “You just understand the way I think, and nobody has before.”

A silence stretched between us, thick with things neither of us knew how to say.

“You make it sound like some big thing,” I murmured. “Like I did something special.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering me. “Maybe you did.”

His words awakened something in me, an ache settling in my chest. A quiet, gnawing feeling that signaled the start of an internal war; one I never really meant to step into, but quickly became hard to ignore. A silent competition I didn’t sign up for, but suddenly felt compelled to win. 

It wasn’t against MC, not even Caleb himself.

But against the undeniable truth that no matter how close we got, I may never be the one he chooses.

September-

I barely notice the shift at first; the way August hands things off to September, smooth and effortless, like they’ve done this a million times before. Like they were always meant to meet. It feels familiar in a way I can’t explain, like stepping into a conversation that’s already halfway finished but somehow still knowing exactly what’s being said. 

Things with Caleb had settled into a familiar rhythm. On campus, we were either together or in class, our days stitched together by shared moments. Being with him was refreshing, like the first warm breeze after a long winter, a quiet promise that brighter days were ahead. Silence with him was never awkward; it was understood. He always seemed to know what I was thinking, what I meant to say, even when I didn’t say it aloud.

I’d known Caleb for a while, but the way we grew close so quickly felt natural, like we’d been moving toward this all along. It was as if there had always been a space in my mind shaped just for him, waiting for the right moment for him to step in.

The cloudy sky above turned dark with the impending storm coming, but in a rush to meet Caleb, I had hardly noticed until I was halfway to his dorm. Cursing to myself, I silently tried to manifest the rain would hold off until I got back to my own dorm later. 

It was movie day; every Friday afternoon after Caleb and I finished with our classes for the day we would have lunch and watch a movie. He was on hosting duty this week, and his dorm was on the other side of campus. If I got caught in this rain, I’d still have a bit of a walk in the storm before I arrived. 

Almost as if laughing at me, the sky cracked with lightning and thunder rumbled, and I heard the pouring of rain before I felt it.

“Shit!” I picked up the pace, my sneakers splashing through puddles forming on the sidewalks as I started to run. Thunder booming in the sky, I mentally prepared to get struck by lightning and hoped I would be eaten by the campus birds before anyone found my body. 

Trying to take a shortcut through the grass was the worst decision I could have made, as I wasn’t even two feet from the sidewalk before I slipped, landing on my back and getting waterboarded by the sky. “Argh!” I screeched, tears of frustration welling in the corners of my eyes. I sat up, glaring at the students staring at me as they passed by with their umbrellas. 

My whole body was drenched by the time I was outside of Caleb’s; my hair, jeans, and sweater caked with mud (and probably a few stray leaves). 

Making my way upstairs, my cheeks were pink from the cold and embarrassment as everyone in the building looked at me with confusion as my clothes and hair dripped all over the floor. 

Caleb swung the door open before I could knock, something he’d do as he watched for me through the peephole in his door. Looking me up and down, the corners of his mouth twitched upward as he coughed, stifling a laugh.

He leaned against his door frame, “What happened here?”

“Shut up.” I pushed past him, annoyed but a bit guilty as I continued to drip all over his floor.

“You look like a sad wet cat,” Caleb patted my wet hair, frowning when he saw I was shivering, “a cold, sad wet cat.”

He started to rummage around the room, going through his drawers and closet, pulling out clothes. Tossing them at me, he pointed to the bathroom, “Go shower, I don’t want you all soppin’ wet on my stuff.”

I glanced at the clothes he handed me; hoodie, sweatpants…his boxers? 

“Um, Caleb-”

He shook his head, “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

Pursing my lips together I nodded, heading into the bathroom. I called out to him, “Caleb, do you have a towel?” 

“Just use the one in there.”

Okay, we were close, but I wasn’t aware we had crossed into this land.

Peeling my clothes from my body, I threw them into a pile in the corner. I nearly moaned when the hot water hit my skin, and basked in the feeling for a bit. I stared at Caleb’s shampoo and body wash, conflicted on if I should actually use them or just try to rinse myself off the best I could.

Feeling the mud and tangles in my hair, I accepted defeat.

By the time I was done, clad in Caleb’s warm clothes with every inch of me smelling like him, it felt like he was smothering me. Like I was enveloped in one of his bear hugs.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I felt my heart jump a bit. There was something about wearing a boy’s clothes as is, but Caleb’s clothes? 

A bit ago, I had felt the shift before I could name it. 

It’s in the way my eyes flick to my phone more often than before, in the way my chest tightens, just a little, when his name lights up my screen. It’s in the way my pulse stirs when I spot him at our usual spot in the library, twirling a pen between his fingers like he’s been waiting for me. Like he knew I’d show up (and he always did). 

And maybe that’s what unsettles me the most, not just that I notice these things, but that a part of me already expects them. Like I’ve been pavloved.

It was ignorable at first, but it’s become this nagging feeling at the back of my mind. A tugging at my heart. It’s annoying, like a mosquito buzzing in my ear that’s too quick for me to smack it away.

The feeling that I didn’t want to just be friends anymore.

Coming out of the bathroom, Caleb was already sitting on the floor in front of his bed with two cups of tea and food, and my mouth watered when I saw he made my favorite.

He smiled at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You look pretty good in those.”

Heat crept up my neck, and I let out a nervous laugh. “You’re just saying that because I look like you.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Caleb nodded toward the bathroom. “Your hair’s still wet. Grab the towel.”

“It’s fine,” I shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

He raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You already got caught in the rain once. Stay damp any longer, and you’ll catch a cold.” Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “And I can’t be left alone in class. That’d be tragic.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heel, grabbed the towel, and tossed it at him. “Right, of course. That’s all I am to you, entertainment in class.”

“For sure,” he said smoothly, catching the towel with ease. “Now sit.”

I sat beside him, reaching for the towel, but before I could take it, his hands found my shoulders, gently turning me away. I barely had time to protest before he took the towel himself, carefully running it through my damp hair.

“Caleb, I can do it myself—” I started, trying to shift back, but his grip was steady.

“Shush,” he murmured. “Let me help.”

I could have argued, but the warmth of his touch, the slow, deliberate way he moved, made it impossible to resist. My shoulders relaxed as he worked, the soft scratch of the towel against my scalp lulling me into stillness. Silence settled between us, easy and unspoken, the only sound the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the window. It was peaceful, grounding. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, let myself be cared for.

Before long Caleb tugged on a strand of my hair, “Okay, done.”

“Thank you” I pinched his cheek, his lips curved upwards and his eyes went soft.

“Now, what should we watch?”

“Nothing crazy, I don’t think my brain can function right now after today.”

Caleb laughed, flicking through the movies, before settling on some random cartoon. I sighed dramatically when I took a bite of the food he made, “Caleb, you’ve outdone yourself yet again.”

He looked at me mischievously before stealing a bite, and I punched his shoulder, “You have your own!”

His phone lit up and I saw the name, looking away as he picked it up to respond to the incoming texts.

MC.

A wedge of jealousy crept up my throat. It was our movie time, and here she was, almost on cue.

I always listen—really listen—when he talks about her. About how much she means to him, how she’s one of the only constants in his life. And it stings, sharper than I expect, because I want to be that constant. I don’t say it, of course. Instead, I throw myself deeper into the friendship, as if proving my place will make it true.

I laugh at his jokes a little too hard. Memorize the way he takes his coffee without meaning to. Notice the small things that make him tick, the way his expression shifts when he’s lost in thought, the songs he hums under his breath.

The internal competition I created against her wasn’t intentional, but once I noticed it, everything about it became hard to unsee.

He sets his phone down just as quickly as he picked it up, shooting me an apologetic look. “Sorry, MC just had a question about something.”

‘That stupid question could’ve waited’, I think, irritation curling in my chest. But I shove it down, nudging his shoulder with a forced smile. “S’alright. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good.” He settles back into the movie, but I barely hear it now. The feeling of her lingers, clinging to the space between us, and I try to shake it off.

His presence beside me soothes the sting, like a bandage over a wound, and I start to loosen up, letting my head rest against the bed. The warmth of his clothes, the comfort of a full stomach, the quiet rhythm of rain against the window; it all starts to pull me under, drowsiness settling into my bones. My eyelids grow heavy, and I barely register the way Caleb shifts beside me.

“Sleepy?” His voice is soft, almost amused.

I peek one eye open, managing a lazy smile. “A bit.”

Without a word, he moves closer, wrapping an arm around the back of my neck. His hand finds the side of my head, cradling it gently as he guides me to rest against his shoulder. The touch is careful, deliberate, something more than our usual play punches and casual grabs in a crowd. This is different. More intimate.

For a moment, I forgot about the competition. Because my head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, and the slow, absentminded way his fingers trace shapes on my shoulder feels so easy, so natural. He watches the TV like this is nothing new, like having me this close is just the way things are meant to be. And for the first time I let myself believe, just for a second, that maybe he feels the same way about me too.

October-

There's a charge in the air alongside the change in leaves, a quiet pull I feel every time Caleb leans in a little too close or looks at me like I’m the only person in the room.

But then, there’s her.

She’s not here, but she is. Always lingering in the pauses between sentences, in the spaces Caleb leaves open without realizing it. She’s in the way his face softens when he says her name, in the light that sparks behind his eyes when he talks about her. And I hate how it makes me feel; petty, ridiculous, like I’ve stumbled into a battle I was never meant to fight.

I just can’t shake it.

Because lately, there’s been something else. An even bigger shift, subtle, but impossible to ignore. The way his hand lingers a beat too long when he passes me something, like he’s reluctant to let go. The way his gaze finds me, even in a crowded room, like I’m the only person worth looking at. The late-night texts, filled with thoughts that could have waited but never do.

Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading too much into things, seeing what I want to see. But a part of me, deep down, knows he feels this too.

My phone began to ring as I was getting ready for the Senior Gala the Academy holds every year for those graduating in the spring. 

“Yes?” I already know who it is without looking.

Caleb’s voice drifts through the speaker, soft and warm. “Are you almost ready, honey?” The pet name catches me off guard, a shy smile pulling at my lips before I can stop it. He’d started using it recently, and I hadn’t dared to question it out of the fear it would stop.

He was my date tonight (as friends of course), and I was running a little behind.

“I still have to finish my makeup, do my hair, and put on my dress,” I groaned in frustration, “I’m sorry Caleb, I’m trying to go as fast as I can.”

He laughs sweetly, “Well, I’m almost there. I can help you out.”

“Help me…?”

“Yep, Captain Caleb is gonna be there to save the night. See you soon!”

The phone clicks before I can respond, and not a moment later, Caleb is strolling through my door like he owns the place. 

I turned to face him, and my breath caught in my throat. His suit was a deep navy that matched my dress, the rich fabric adorned with his pilot and aviator pins. His hair, tousled yet intentional, framed a face that always felt like home. Caleb stood there composed, sharp but still him; and there was something about the way the badges gleamed against his chest that nearly brought me to my knees.

His gaze sweeps over my desk, taking in the chaos of makeup scattered around, before pausing on my curling iron.

“Is this plugged in?” He picks it up, inspecting it.

“Caleb, you are not putting that anywhere near my head.” I instinctively flinch as he reaches for a lock of my hair.

But he’s quick, his hand firmly grasping the top of my head, holding it still. “I always helped MC with her hair. I know my way around a curling iron.”

The words land harder than he meant, and I can’t help but squint at him, a frown tugging at my lips. He misreads it, thinking I’m questioning him, and gives me a serious look.

“Trust me here.”

I let the assumption hang in the air, letting him believe my discontent is just doubt. I sigh, giving in, “Alright, but if you make me look bad for my Senior Gala, I will hate you forever.”

He starts to section my hair and I raise my brows in approval, ‘Okay, yeah,’ I think, ‘Maybe he does have this’.

Caleb’s touch is gentle as I apply my mascara and lipstick, careful not to mess me up, his hands steady as he moves around me. It doesn’t take long before he pulls back, setting the curling iron down as I finish up with the last touches of my makeup.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” His hands rest on my shoulders as he leans down, chin lightly resting on the top of my head, both of us watching our reflection in the mirror.

I tilt my head, inspecting my hair with a playful smile, running my fingers through a few strands. “I suppose you did an okay job.”

He pinches the bridge of my nose, a mock scowl crossing his face. Laughing, I stand up, reaching for my dress hanging in the closet.

I headed to the bathroom, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

I slipped the dress on, the blue silk molding to my body, the delicate sleeves draping off my shoulders. It was beautiful, I was beautiful; but as I caught my reflection, doubt crept in. Would I look out of place next to Caleb? He was all polished perfection, and I was just… me. Not bad, but not him.

She would look perfect beside him.

‘No.’ I straightened my shoulders. ‘I’m Caleb’s date tonight, not her. He could have asked her, but he didn’t. He chose me. It’s just us.’

Fumbling with the zipper, I let out a frustrated breath before finally pulling the door open. “Caleb, can you help me with this?”

His head snapped up, eyes widening as a flush crept up his cheeks. “Of course.”

Caleb stepped forward, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brushed against my back. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the cool fabric clinging to my skin. Gently, he gathered the dress, his knuckles ghosting along my spine as he found the zipper.

I held my breath.

Slowly, he pulled it up, the quiet sound of the zipper filling the space between us. With each inch, his fingertips lingered, tracing the curve of my back, sending shivers down my arms. My skin felt hypersensitive, like every nerve was tuned to him and him alone.

When he reached the top, he didn’t step away. Instead, his fingers grazed the nape of my neck, adjusting the fabric, smoothing it into place. His breath was warm against my shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper.

“There,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

I turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze. His eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up, as if caught in some silent battle with himself. The air between us was thick, charged, pulling me toward him.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my voice barely steady.

His hand lingered for just a second longer before he finally let go, stepping back, but not too far. Not far at all.

I turned around slowly, my heart pounding as I met his gaze. His eyes traced the length of me, starting at the hem of my dress and lingering as they traveled upward, taking in every detail before finally meeting mine.

Caleb swallowed, his lips parting slightly as if he had something to say but couldn’t quite find the words. Then, as if shaken from a spell, he smiled—soft, almost bashful.

“You look beautiful.”

His voice was quiet, reverent, like he wasn’t just saying it, but feeling it. Like the words weren’t enough to capture what he saw.

Warmth spread through me, creeping up my neck, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I’d spent so much time wondering if I looked right beside him, if I fit; but now, standing here, bathed in the glow of his gaze, I didn’t feel out of place.

I felt chosen.

“Hold your compliments until you’ve seen the whole look,” I teased, holding up a finger to silence him. “I still need to put on my shoes and pins.”

Caleb smirked. “Need help with those too?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I can manage strapping on my own heels and pinning a badge to my dress, thanks.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He plucked my heels off the dresser, twirling them lazily around his finger, his gaze practically daring me to challenge him.

I huffed but gave in, sinking into my chair. “Fine.”

Caleb knelt in front of me, his fingers warm as they wrapped around my ankle, steady but gentle as if I were something delicate. He slipped the first shoe on, fastening the strap with practiced ease.

“I can do most things myself, y’know,” I muttered, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

“I know.” His fingers lingered against my skin for a fraction too long before he reached for the second shoe. “I just like to be helpful.”

But he still wouldn’t look at me when he said it, and something about the way his voice softened made me think he wasn’t just talking about shoes.

I stood as he finished, reaching for my pins amidst the clutter of my desk and fastening them carefully over my heart. Turning to the mirror, I shifted from side to side, checking every angle, making sure everything was just right.

I glanced back at Caleb. “Are you sure I look okay?”

Without hesitation, he took my hand and lifted it into the air. “Twirl. Let me see.”

I spun for him, the silk of my dress catching the light, and when I turned back, there was something bright in his eyes, something warm, something real.

“You look more than okay,” he said, voice sure with conviction. “I promise.”

I held out my pinky. “Pinky promise?”

He grinned, hooking his finger around mine. “Pinky promise.”

“Lock it,” I reminded him, and he chuckled before pressing his thumb against mine, sealing the deal.

His fingers lingered for a second before he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Now come on, we’re definitely going to be late.”

When we arrived at the gala, it didn’t take long for Caleb to be swept away by a group of guys he often talked to. I lingered around, exchanging polite small talk with a few people I still considered friends. I didn’t see them much anymore, as most of my time was spent with Caleb.

“So, are you two dating?” one of the girls asked, tilting her head. “I thought he was seeing that girl from his hometown… What was her name again?”

“MC.” I said, a little too quickly.

“Right, that’s the one.”

I forced a smile. “No, we’re just good friends.”

But even as I said it, my gaze drifted to where he stood, laughing easily with his own friends, his posture loose and carefree. A quiet ache settled in my chest.

I wanted to be next to him.

But then again, I was; just not in the way they all saw. I knew him in moments no one else did, in the quiet spaces between conversations, in the unspoken gestures and late-night confessions.

And for now, that was enough. It had to be.

I excused myself from the conversation, weaving through the crowd until I reached one of the drink tables. Grabbing a glass, I slipped into the quieter halls, letting the hum of conversation and music fade behind me. The walls were lined with grand, extravagant paintings, each one demanding attention. I paused in front of a few, sipping my drink as I took them in, letting my mind settle.

I wasn’t antisocial, I could hold my own in a room full of people, I just needed a break from the carefully choreographed chaos of the ballroom. 

The rhythmic click of shoes against marble echoed through the quiet hallway, followed by a familiar, soft laugh.

“How did I know I’d find you out here?”

I hummed against the rim of my glass. “Maybe because you can read my mind.”

Caleb shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sometimes I wish I could.” Then, extending his hand toward me, he asked, “Dance with me?”

I glanced at his outstretched palm. “Out here?”

He tilted his head playfully. “Well, my possible mind-reading powers tell me you’d rather not go back in there.”

A slow smile spread across my face as I laced my fingers with his. “I think you might be psychic.”

The distant music from the ballroom barely reached us, muffled and softened by the grand halls, but somehow, that only made the moment feel more intimate. Caleb’s hands found my waist, warm and steady, while mine slipped around the back of his neck.

He guided us into a slow, easy rhythm. I rested my head just below his chin, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his suit.

We moved without words; his breath against my hair was the only thing I could focus on, like everything else had paused around us.

The world outside the two of us faded, the grand chandelier lights dimming, the chatter and laughter of the crowd becoming a distant murmur. All that remained was the softness of the moment, our steps in sync, and the quiet, unspoken connection between us.

I could feel his thumb tracing gentle patterns against my back, the touch soft in a way that wasn’t rushed. There was no need to hurry, no need to speak. We simply existed in this space, suspended between the melody and the quiet.

His fingers moved up to brush a lock of hair behind my ear, the gesture tender, almost shy. I looked up at him, and his eyes held mine, reassuring.

“You feel like home,” he murmured, so quietly I almost thought I imagined it.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Instead, I leaned in a little closer, savoring the rhythm of our slow dance, the feeling of him holding me like this, as if the rest of the world didn’t matter at all.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Caleb tapped my shoulder lightly, pulling away just enough for the space between us to feel suddenly too wide. It wasn’t much, but the shift left a coldness in the air, and I immediately wanted to fall back into him.

“Where are you thinking?” I asked.

He pointed toward the window. “There’s a park across the street. We could go there. Away from all… this.” He gestured vaguely, as if the chaos of the gala was still buzzing around us.

I nodded without hesitation, and soon we found ourselves at the park, sitting on an old, rusty swing set. The contrast was stark; our lavish clothes against the worn, weathered metal, but I didn’t care. My dress snagged on the rust as I sat down, but I was too lost in the quiet to be bothered by it. All I wanted was this moment, the stillness, just the two of us away from everything else.

The night air wrapped around us, cool and still, with only the rhythmic creak of the swings and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees breaking the silence. It felt like we existed in a world separate from everything else, suspended in something fragile, something fleeting.

Caleb leaned back against the chain of his swing, his fingers gripping the metal tightly as he looked at me again. That look—like he could see through me, past all the walls I tried so hard to keep up. My pulse hammered in my chest under his gaze.

“You ever feel like… you don’t know where you stand with someone?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. “Yeah,” he said quietly, but with a certainty that made my stomach twist. “All the time.”

For a second, just a fleeting, breathless second; I wondered if he meant me.

I forced a smile, trying to ease the tension hanging between us. I nudged my swing into his, making it sway slightly. “You have a really good sense of self-restraint,” I teased, the words a shield to keep myself from feeling too much. “It’s almost a talent.”

His lips curved, but it was thin, hollow—there was something sad in it. “Is that a bad thing?”

I tilted my head, watching him. “No… well, maybe. Sometimes, I guess. I think you have a habit of depriving yourself of what you really want.”

Caleb looked down, his boot dragging against the dirt beneath him. “What if I can’t have what I want?” His voice was rougher now, lower. “What if it’s not allowed?”

I reached forward, gripping the chain of his swing, giving it a slight shake to bring his eyes back to mine. “If it’s within your reach, it’s legal, and you’re not hurting anyone, I don’t see a problem.” My breath hitched, and my chest tightened as I spoke. “If I had to guess, you’re trying to convince yourself you can’t have something.”

His exhale was shaky, and a bitter laugh barely escaped him. “Maybe, yeah.”

I saw it then—the decision in his eyes, the surrender.

And then, he moved.

Caleb leaned in first, closing the space between us with a quiet certainty that made my breath catch. I barely had time to react before his lips met mine; soft, warm, real. My fingers clenched around the swing’s chain for balance, but it didn’t matter. My whole world had already tilted.

The kiss started slow, tentative, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Caleb’s hand found my jaw, his fingers brushing my skin, grounding me as he deepened the kiss. There was no hesitation, no pulling away—only the quiet urgency of something inevitable, something long overdue.

I let myself sink into it, forget everything outside this moment. The cold night air, the weight of the past few months, the uncertainty of what came next—it all melted away as Caleb kissed me like he’d been waiting for this as long as I had.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, our foreheads nearly touching, Caleb let out a quiet, almost incredulous chuckle. His thumb brushed over my cheek, lingering there like he was memorizing the feel of me.

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything—just letting the silence settle between us like something sacred.

I tried to catch my breath, still feeling the warmth of his touch all over me. “I—uh, I didn’t think that was how tonight would go.”

“Me either,” he admitted softly.

I bit my lip, searching for something to say, but my thoughts were still tangled up in the kiss. The taste of him lingered, sweet and unfamiliar, like a song you’d heard once and couldn’t forget. The warmth of his breath was still etched into the space between us, and the silence felt heavy, like it was holding something fragile; something we both weren’t quite ready to name. I felt the words sitting at the edge of my mind, waiting, but they were lost in the echo of his touch, the weight of everything unsaid.

Caleb gently brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his touch so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to break something.

There was a quiet moment, just us sitting there, the air between us charged and delicate. Caleb’s fingers brushed along my wrist, and he gave a small, hesitant laugh.

“Is it weird to say I’m kind of glad we did this here?”

I smiled, the tension easing slightly. “Not at all. There’s something nice about having a moment that’s just ours.”

He glanced up at the dark sky, the stars scattered above us. “Yeah, it’s like we’re in our own little world. Just us.”

I took a deep breath, trying to settle the fluttering in my chest. “Then let’s not rush back. Let’s just stay here for a little longer.”

He grinned, that easy smile of his, and nodded. “I’m in.”

We swayed gently, both of us still lost in the quiet, the stillness of the park and the soft feeling that somehow, things were different now. 

Better.

November-

The moment on the swings stays with me long after it’s over, a quiet echo that pulses in the back of my mind, haunting the spaces between my thoughts. It lingers in the way Caleb reaches for my hand without thinking, in the brief touches we exchange. The kiss, though, that’s the one that lingers the longest; the warmth of him, the certainty that wrapped around me like a promise. 

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t hold back.

I tell myself it was nothing, that it was just a rush, a fleeting spark that will eventually fade with time. 

But it doesn’t. 

Instead, it settles into the corners of me, a quiet undercurrent beneath everything else.

Everything is subtle at first, in the little things. His hand brushing against mine when we walk, his knee grazing mine when we sit side by side, the way his texts come more often now, careful and soft. When we’re together, it feels like we really have built our own little world, a space apart from everything else. And I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, it’s enough.

Though one night, I find him distant. His gaze fixed on his phone, jaw tight like he’s trying to hold something in. He barely speaks, his words sharp and short, his mind somewhere else entirely. I don’t ask, don’t press him for an answer. But I know.

It’s her.

And in that moment, something clicks.

I’m not the only one caught between two worlds. Caleb is, too.

The realization doesn’t ease the ache, it only makes it worse. Because if there’s a choice, I already know who he’ll choose.

Training’s getting harder, and graduation is only a few months away. The exhaustion is catching up to all of us, but I feel as if it's hitting me the hardest. Barely sleeping, too many long nights and even longer days, each one blending into the next until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I can feel my body wearing down, but I keep pushing, because what else is there to do? Let myself stop and think?

Ha.

No.

Caleb notices, though. He’s just as drained as I am, but he’s still there, watching me. He always makes sure I eat, even when I don’t feel like it. Reminds me to drink water when I forget, and always seems to be there after training, hanging around like he’s making sure I don’t collapse right there on the floor.

I try not to let it mean anything, try not to read too much into it. He’s just being a friend, right?

But it’s hard to ignore the way he lingers, the way his eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place when I sway slightly on my feet, too tired to stand straight. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand is there, steady on my arm, holding me like he doesn’t want to let go.

Caleb picked me up from the Academy airport after a training flight. We were supposed to grab lunch, but when his eyes landed on my exhausted form, something in his expression softened.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he said, his voice gentle.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the exhaustion. “No, I’m fine. Let’s just go—” But before I could finish, my body betrayed me, and I stumbled forward, barely able to keep myself upright.

Caleb’s hand was there in an instant, steadying me by the shoulder and wrapping his arm around me like he wasn’t letting go. “I think you’d fall asleep in your food and suffocate. When was the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday… no, Tuesday? I don’t really remember.”

I threw on my coat, but Caleb’s gaze was still on me, studying me like he could see right through the act I was trying to put on.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, glaring at him. “I’m fine. Let’s hurry before we miss the bus.”

Standing outside at the bus stop, I shivered against Caleb's arm around me (that was still trying to hold me up). He asked me about my day, if I had eaten breakfast; simple questions that didn’t require much thinking on my part and patient, non-expectant responses from him. I pressed my body closer into his, trying to soak up his warmth, and maybe even share a bit of my own. 

He looked down at me and chuckled, ruffling my hair, “Just a bit longer, honey.”

And he was right, seconds later the bus pulled up. I was practically bouncing to get inside and out of this weather.

Snatching the window seat, I stuck my tongue out at Caleb as he situated himself next to me. “You’re evil, you know that right.” 

The bus was a welcomed relief from the biting cold outside, the warmth inside wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. My coat was serving as a blanket, and I don’t even remember when I drifted off, but at some point I found myself asleep on Caleb’s shoulder.

I half-awoke to him nudging me gently. “Hey, this is my dorm, let’s get off here.”

Groggily, I shook my head, struggling to form a thought. “No, s’okay, my stop is next…”

He chuckled softly, and I could hear the concern in his voice. “I don’t trust you not to fall back asleep and miss your dorm.” His fingers brushed through my hair to comb the strands away from my eyes, his touch tender as he looked at me. “Just come back up with me. You can sleep there until you’re good to go back.”

I barely had the strength to argue, so I let him lead me, sleepily leaning against him the entire way. By the time we reached his room, I was barely conscious. He helped me take off my coat and shoes, and without a second thought, I crawled onto his bed, curling up into a ball as sleep claimed me again.

When I woke, the world outside was dark, and it took a moment to realize where I was. The blanket was soft against my skin, and I noticed Caleb beside me, his face relaxed in sleep. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look so at ease, so… soft.

I felt a pang of guilt when I noticed the clock beside his bed. It was nearing one in the morning. He probably wanted to sleep, but I had taken over his space.

I started to sit up, but before I could move, an arm wrapped around my waist.

“Where are you going?” Caleb’s voice was thick with sleep, and I froze, my heart skipping a beat as I turned to see him blinking slowly up at me.

“I have to go home,” I murmured, my words barely above a whisper. I reached out, hand instinctively brushing his face, but then I stopped myself and pulled it back.

He toyed with the hem of my t-shirt, and I felt the warmth of his touch spread through me. I could feel myself melting under his proximity. “It’s too late,” he said softly, his voice almost a plea. “Just stay here.”

“Caleb—”

“Or I can walk you home,” he added, his eyes still half-closed, and he stretched as if to get up, but I placed my hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“No, really, it’s okay.”

He smirked a little, still mischievous even through sleep. “You pick. I either walk you home, or you stay here.”

In that moment, the stillness of the night seemed to press in around us, and my heart ached. Caleb was a vice. He was dangerous.

“Okay,” I whispered, my resolve crumbling. “I’ll stay.”

The room is quiet except for Caleb’s steady breathing. The city of Skyhaven hums faintly outside, the night stretching endlessly around us. I’m awake now, but I can’t bring myself to move. Caleb’s hand rests lightly on my waist, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go. It’s nothing, really. Just a small, almost casual touch. 

But it feels like everything. 

It sets my entire body on fire, this little contact. I shouldn’t be here, not like this, not after everything. But I don’t leave. Instead, I sink back down, letting the warmth of the blanket and his presence pull me under.

We don’t speak. There’s nothing to say. No explanations, no excuses—just this fragile moment, suspended in time, hanging between us. Caleb’s breathing evens out again, his grip loosening as sleep pulls him back under. I stay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds of the night. I know this is a mistake. I know when the sun rises, when the reality of the world outside finally settles in, things will go back to how they were.

He’ll wake up, stretch, rub the sleep from his eyes, and we’ll pretend like this never happened. He’ll go back to talking about MC, and whatever this—whatever we—will remain suspended in the realm of “almosts” and “what-ifs.” But for now, in this quiet moment, I close my eyes. I let myself have this, just for tonight. Because even if it means nothing to him, it means everything to me.

Morning comes too quickly.

I stir first, blinking against the soft light filtering through the blinds. For a second, everything feels warm and comforting. Caleb’s steady breathing beside me, the weight of the blanket, the quiet hum of the city waking up outside.

Then, reality crashes back in. I shouldn’t be here. Not like this.

Carefully, I try to slip out from beneath the covers, but the moment I move, Caleb stirs. His grip tightens around my waist, pulling me closer just a little before his eyes flutter open.

He looks at me, caught between sleep and consciousness, and for a second, there’s something in his gaze; a softness that makes my breath catch in my chest. But then, he blinks, and it’s gone.

“You’re awake,” his voice is thick with sleep, raspy, and it twists something inside of me. He doesn’t let go.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I should go.”

Caleb doesn’t respond at first. His fingers absently trace the hem of my sleeve, like he’s thinking, weighing something.

Then, finally—

“You don’t have to.”

It’s quiet. Hesitant. It feels like a confession wrapped in uncertainty.

I swallow hard. “Caleb…”

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just know this, this tension, this dangerous line we’re walking, is too much.

He sits up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, and then he looks at me. His expression is unreadable, and it makes my heart clench.

“Look,” he sighs, like this is some sort of explanation. “I know things have been… complicated.”

Complicated. That’s one way to put it.

I scoff and shake my head. “You think?”

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And that hurts more than it should. Because I know what I’m doing. I’m falling. I’ve been falling for so long, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to hit the ground.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I whisper, my voice barely steady.

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Something inside me cracks.

“Then stop making me feel like I’m something you have to choose.”

Silence. And that’s when I know.

He won’t say it, but I already have my answer. Because if I was ever truly an option, I wouldn’t be standing here, begging for clarity.

I nod to myself, standing up. “I need to go.”

This time, he doesn’t stop me.

December-

It hurts, it really hurts. 

My chest aches like it’s been hollowed out, and every breath feels too heavy, too sharp. My body trembles, like it’s trying to hold itself together, but it’s already unraveling. 

Is this what dying feels like? 

Is this death? 

The slow suffocation of something that was once whole? 

Or is this grief?

Endless, suffocating grief—bleeding through my veins, consuming everything I am.

I can’t tell anymore. Only that it hurts. So much. 

I don’t even know who I am anymore. 

I feel like a hollow shell.

January-

The snow falls lightly, dusting the pavement with delicate flakes as I walk across campus. The world feels quiet, wrapped in winter’s cold embrace, but inside me? There’s nothing but noise, a clamor I can’t silence. Just as fast as everything had began, it ended just as quickly. 

I didn’t expect Caleb to reach out. After everything, after the silence between us that’s stretched since November, I thought he’d let the distance settle. Let whatever we had fade into something unspoken, unresolved.

But then I got the text.

can we talk?

And because I’m weak, because no matter how much I want to convince myself I’ve moved on, I know I haven’t, so I agreed.

Now, I’m here, waiting outside the coffee shop, my breath clouding in the cold air. Caleb’s already inside, sitting by the window with his fingers curled around a paper cup. When he sees me, he gives a small, hesitant smile. He looks the same, yet it feels so foreign.

I steel myself and walk inside.

“Hey,” he says when I slide into the seat across from him.

“Hey,” I echo, my voice flat, unreadable.

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything hanging between us.

He exhales, looking down at his coffee. “I hate how things have been between us.”

I don’t say anything, just let him speak.

“I miss you,” he admits, and for a moment, my heart stumbles. But before I can process it, he adds, “I don’t want to lose you, I want us to still be friends.”

Friends.

I should have expected this. Maybe I did. Maybe I’ve just been foolish enough to hope for something else.

I swallow, my fingers tightening around my cup. “Friends.”

He nods, earnest, like he doesn’t realize he’s twisting a knife into my chest. “Yeah. I mean, we were good at that, right? Before things got… complicated.”

Complicated. That word again.

I take a slow breath, trying to force the ache in my chest to quiet. Maybe this is what we need. Maybe being friends, just friends, will hurt less than losing him completely.

So I offer a small smile, one that feels forced but I try to make it real. “Yeah. We were.”

Relief flashes across his face, and something deep inside me tugs painfully. But I ignore it.

We can do this.

We have to.

“Are we okay?” he asks carefully.

I hesitate for a second, just a moment, but then I nod. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

And maybe, if I say it enough times, it’ll start to feel true.

We step outside together, the cold air biting at my skin. We walk side by side, but it’s different now. Less certain, more fragile. But for now, it’s enough. We’re still in each other’s lives. And that has to count for something.

February-

The cold of February feels different this year. It’s sharp, biting at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the way the distance between Caleb and me has settled; thick, suffocating.

We’re friends. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.

But every interaction feels like a shadow of what it used to be. We pass each other on campus, exchanging forced smiles, awkward pleasantries. He texts me sometimes, but the messages are clipped, casual. The playful banter, the inside jokes—we don’t have those anymore.

I’ve gotten good at pretending it doesn’t hurt. I laugh at his jokes when we’re in class together, crack a smile when he waves in passing. I tell myself that being near him, even like this, is better than nothing.

But it isn’t. It isn’t better at all.

One afternoon, after class, Caleb waits for me while I pack my things, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. His eyes meet mine, but they flicker away quickly, like he’s not sure how to look at me anymore.

“Hey,” he says, his voice quieter than it used to be.

I force a smile, but it feels too tight, too stretched.

We walk together, but the silence between us is thick. We’re not really talking anymore. Not like before.

“How’s everything?” I ask, trying to fill the space with something. Anything.

Caleb shrugs, his gaze far off. “Same as usual. You know how it is.”

I don’t know how it is. Not anymore.

“And you?” he asks, almost apologetically, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he pushes too hard.

“I’m good,” I say, too quickly. Too easily. I wish I could say something that would make it sound like we haven’t drifted so far apart. But I can’t.

The truth is, I don’t feel good. Not at all.

The rest of the walk is silent, and when we reach the place where our paths diverge, Caleb gives me a tight, awkward smile.

“Catch you later,” he says, already turning away before I can say anything else.

I watch him walk off, the weight of all the things we never said hanging between us.

It’s painful. But I swallow it down. I have to.

The days pass, and we continue this dance; one of shallow conversations, stiff smiles. Every text feels like a performance. Every interaction, a reminder that we’re no longer who we used to be.

One night, I sit at my desk, the glow of my laptop screen casting a pale light over my face. My phone vibrates on the table beside me. Caleb’s name.

I hesitate before picking it up.

hey, are you free later?

My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to respond.

Yeah, what’s up?

There’s a long pause before his next message.

i was thinking we could grab coffee. but no pressure, just thought it might be nice.

The words “just thought it might be nice” sting more than I expected. It’s so casual, so simple—like the idea of spending time together doesn’t carry any of the weight it used to.

But I can’t back out now. I can’t keep pretending that I’m not still craving his company, even if it’s not the same.

Sure, sounds good.

When we meet at our usual café, the air between us is thick. We talk, but it’s like we’re strangers, circling around the things we used to share so easily. Caleb talks about his classes, and I nod, smile at the right times, but it doesn’t feel like we’re really connecting anymore.

I tell myself it’s fine. This is what we agreed to. That being friends is better than nothing.

And no matter how many times I tell myself I’m over it, no matter how many times I remind myself that this is what I chose; it still hurts.

When we part ways that evening, Caleb gives me a small, almost apologetic smile. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” I reply, throat tight. “See you.”

I watch him leave, and I can’t help but feel like a piece of myself is slowly drifting farther away.

March-

I can’t keep doing this.

April-

The months start to feel like a slow, inevitable slide into something I can’t quite escape. The air has warmed, and the snow is nothing more than a distant memory, but the silence between Caleb and me cuts deeper than any winter chill.

We still see each other every day. We still share the same spaces, the same halls, the same class. But now, we’re nothing more than shadows of what we once were. Just two people who used to mean something to each other, now standing on opposite sides of a wide, unbridgeable gap.

We promised to be friends. We promised we’d make it work. But those promises feel empty now. There’s no joy in our interactions, no spark. Every conversation is forced, every laugh hollow. We’ve become experts at pretending, at wearing the mask of “just friends,” even though neither of us believes it for a second.

I’ve tried to move on, but when I see him, it’s like a miserable cold wave crashing over me. His eyes, once warm and inviting, are distant now; like he’s holding back something I’m not allowed to know. Even though he’s still there, still around, it feels like he’s lightyears away.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, sitting alone in the student lounge, my books spread out in front of me though not really focused on them. My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the message, already knowing who it’s from.

Caleb.

I hesitate before opening it, my fingers lingering over the screen.

i’m outside the library, want to grab coffee?

My heart skips. I want to say yes. 

I want to say yes more than anything. 

But a part of me knows how this will go. Another awkward conversation. Another round of small talk and unspoken feelings.

I’m tired. Tired of pretending things are fine when nothing is fine.

I can’t, sorry.

May-

The day is warm, but there’s a crispness in the air, the kind that signals a transition; between seasons, between chapters, between what was and what will be. The hum of excitement fills the air, the kind only a graduation ceremony can bring. Students in their uniforms mill around the venue, laughter and shouts of celebration ringing through the open space.

I move through the crowd, my diploma and badges in hand, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I should feel proud, should feel accomplished. And I do, somewhere deep inside. But there’s something else, something heavier, lingering beneath the surface. The kind of feeling I’ve spent the past few months pushing away, convincing myself I’ve moved past.

Then, I see them.

Caleb stands a few feet away, surrounded by the floods of people. I notice he’s staring ahead into the crowd, and a girl comes crashing into him with the kind of ease that twists my stomach; MC.

She leans in, close—too close. And then, as if the universe had been waiting for the perfect moment to shatter the fragile balance I had built, she presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s celebratory, happy, and by the look on Caleb's face, just enough.

The world tilts.

For a second, the sounds around me blur into static, the conversations and cheers fading into the background. The weight of months of restraint, of quiet acceptance, of pretending I was fine, collapses all at once. The carefully built walls around my emotions crack under the force of everything I had tried so desperately to move past.

I thought I had let go. I thought I had made peace with everything that had happened. But in this moment, watching him, watching them, it all comes rushing back. The late nights, the quiet moments, the unspoken words that once sat between us. The way he once looked at me, the way he’s looking at her. The realization that, despite all my efforts, my heart had never truly stopped waiting.

I force my feet to move, to carry me past them, past the reminders of what could have been, of what wasn’t mine to hold onto anymore.

The weight in my chest is suffocating, but I refuse to stop, refuse to break—not here, not now. Because this is supposed to be a celebration, the closing of a chapter, the start of something new.

Maybe in another life, it was never a competition. Maybe in another universe, I don’t have to worry about her. In that world, I am her—running into Caleb’s arms, stealing his hat, and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Yes. In another universe, I am her.

[elikajinnie]

hiii!!! can I pleasee request another slytherin!heeseung fiiccc? I have no specifications it’s really up to youu I just miss my slytherin!heeseung 💚🐍

P: Slytherin!Heeseung X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tension, Feelings Realisation, Taesan cameo, Very Suggestive Content, Jealousy, Teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Rivalry?

Synopsis: Being one of the smartest students at Hogwarts had its perks… and its downsides. Case in point: you’re now stuck tutoring the Slytherin Prince, Lee Heeseung who looks just as thrilled about this arrangement as you are. With his pride and your stubbornness, neither of you want to admit that the tension isn’t just academic frustration, so it’s only a matter of time before someone breaks the ice.

a/n: been letting this sit for too long in my drafts..

You had your fair share of students come and go—some eager, some desperate, and a few who were just hopeless cases trying to coast on charm alone. Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Muggle Studies… you’d tutored in them all. Somewhere along the way, without even meaning to, you'd built a reputation. The kind of reputation that followed you through corridors and whispered in the spaces between classes—one of the gifted ones, the prodigies. The student with the highest potential in your year.

They said you'd make a brilliant Auror one day. That you were bound for something great, something important. You heard it often—from professors, from classmates, from those wide-eyed first-years who nervously asked for help with their essays. Slughorn, in particular, never missed a chance to sing your praises, his twinkling eyes always watching you like he already saw your name in the Prophet headlines.

You didn’t care much for any of that.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the acknowledgment, or that you didn’t enjoy helping others. It was just… none of it felt like you. The applause, the ambition others projected onto you—it never reached deep enough to move you. You did what you were good at because it came naturally. Because it gave you something to focus on. Something to control.

And you wanted your life to be under control. You needed it to be. Every parchment neatly organized, every schedule memorized down to the hour. Your wand movements were precise, your essays meticulously worded, your notes color-coded and charmed to reshuffle themselves in alphabetical order if anyone dared mess with them.

Because if one thing slipped—even just a little—you weren't sure what would happen.

One step out of line, and you didn’t know what to do. Chaos made your skin itch. Uncertainty felt like standing on the edge of a broomstick at impossible heights with no safety charm in place. You didn’t do messy. Or unpredictable. Or reckless.

Which is exactly why he irritated you so much.

Lee Heeseung.

He was everything you disliked wrapped in a too-confident grin and that stupidly charming laugh that echoed through the corridors when you were just trying to concentrate. It was like he had been placed on this earth—sorted into Hogwarts—for the sole purpose of ruining your peace.

He was loud. He was chaotic. He strolled into class five minutes late like he owned the place, hair a mess, tie half-untied, and somehow still managed to get away with it every time. He was too laidback, like he’d never felt the pressure of a deadline in his life. He flirted with danger the way most people flirted with their crushes—boldly, carelessly, like he knew he’d come out unscathed.

And worst of all? He was a professor’s pet.

But not in the hardworking, straight-A kind of way. No, he got away with everything on sheer charisma. He cracked jokes that made even Professor Flitwick chuckle during lectures, and Professor Slughorn—who had once told you that your potion skills were “brilliant for your age”—had the audacity to say Heeseung’s last-minute disaster of a draft had “potential, if not promise.”

You despised him. Truly, sincerely, deeply.

So when Professor McGonagall cornered you after class with that look in her eyes—the one that meant you were about to be volunteered for something you didn’t want—you already knew who it would be.

“Mr. Lee is falling behind in Transfiguration,” she said, as if that were a surprise to anyone. “And I believe you’re the best person to help him.”

Of course you were.

Of course she would say that.

And of course, the next time you saw him, leaning against the wall outside the classroom with his hands in his pockets and that damned smirk on his face, you already knew how this would end.

“Well, well,” he said, pushing off the wall to fall into step beside you. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, genius.”

Merlin help you.

“I have a name, you know,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

“Oh, I know it,” he replied, voice dripping with forced enthusiasm. “I’ve heard it enough—‘top of the class this,’ ‘perfect marks that.’ Bet you’ve already got your future planned out by the hour.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery won’t make me go easy on you.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you,” he muttered under his breath.

You glanced at him. His usual grin wasn’t quite as smug—if anything, he looked vaguely irritated, like he’d just been assigned detention with a particularly strict professor. Which, to be fair, wasn't that far off.

“If you think I’m thrilled about this,” he added, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

You stopped walking.

Heeseung nearly bumped into you.

“Okay,” you said sharply, turning to face him. “Here’s how this is going to go. You meet me in the library after dinner—on time. You bring your notes, you shut up, and you listen. If you’re not serious about this, don’t waste my time.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair like he was already regretting everything.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You didn’t believe him for a second.

Later that evening, you sat at one of the quieter corners of the library, books already spread out, ink bottle open, quill poised. You’d even drafted a lesson plan—because of course you had. You were five minutes early. He was seven minutes late.

Naturally.

When he finally slouched in, he looked every bit like someone headed to a funeral. He dropped his bag onto the table with a dull thud, flopped into the chair across from you, and gave you a dead-eyed stare.

“Can’t believe I’m spending my evening like this.”

“You and me both,” you said flatly, sliding a textbook across the table. “Page seventy-three. We’re starting with Switching Spells. If you’re not at least decent by the end of the week, I’m telling McGonagall to assign someone else.”

Heeseung opened the book with a sigh, flipping to the page like it physically pained him.

“You threatening to give up on me already? We just started.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Try me.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t talk. He just looked at the page like it had personally offended him.

Merlin, this was going to be a long week.

It had been three days. Three long, patience-testing, soul-draining days.

And Heeseung hadn’t taken a single one of them seriously.

Every evening you sat in the same corner of the library with your neatly organized notes and structured lesson plans, and every evening he showed up like it was some sort of social event. He greeted half the students on the way in, stopping mid-step to fist-bump friends, wink at passing girls, and occasionally ruffle the hair of a random first-year like he was the Hogwarts mascot.

And when he finally sat down across from you, he didn’t sit. He slouched. Laid back like the chair was a hammock and this was a holiday. You’d start talking—calmly, clearly, even with diagrams—and he’d nod like he was listening, then immediately start doodling little Quidditch plays in the margins of his parchment. Or worse—he’d turn to whisper to students at the nearby tables. You’d hear little bursts of laughter, the quiet flutter of someone giggling at whatever stupid, charming thing he’d said.

By the fourth time he leaned over to flirt with a girl who “just so happened” to pass by your table, something in you snapped.

You placed your quill down slowly, deliberately, and looked at him.

“Heeseung,” you said with an edge of tight restraint. “Do you mind?”

He turned to you, raising a brow, lips still curled in that maddening grin. “What? Just being friendly.”

“I’m trying to help you,” you said through clenched teeth. “And you’re too busy chatting, drawing, or���Merlin forbid—flirting to actually pay attention. Can you stop wasting my time?”

He blinked innocently. “Aw, come on, are you jealous?”

You inhaled sharply.

“Jealous?” you repeated, your voice calm—dangerously so.

He smirked, eyes dancing. “Of them. All these girls getting my attention when you want it so bad.”

You were this close to hexing him on the spot.

Instead, you exhaled and sat back, pressing your fingers together tightly to keep from reaching for your wand.

“Focus,” you said slowly, voice low but firm. “Please.”

He paused, and for a second—one second—you thought maybe, maybe you’d gotten through to him.

But then he leaned in, resting his chin on his hand as he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin buzz.

“Oh, I’d very gladly focus on you,” he said, voice dropping into that infuriating, flirty drawl. “Whenever I want.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t blush. You didn’t so much as blink.

Because you knew—everyone knew—that Lee Heeseung was handsome. Stupidly so. And charming. And infuriating. And just the kind of boy you’d spent your whole academic career staying the hell away from.

So instead of reacting, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, flatly, “I’d say you have the attention span of a flobberworm, but honestly? That’s an insult to flobberworms.”

He laughed—laughed—and slouched even further down in his seat.

Then, like he had all the time in the world, he picked up the textbook, flipped it open lazily, and spread his legs under the table like he was stretching out in his dormitory and not the school library.

The audacity.

You were mid-sentence, trying—still trying—to go over the theory of Switching Spells when he tilted the book sideways, squinting at it like the text was written in ancient runes.

You cleared your throat, sharp and pointed.

He didn’t ignore it this time.

His gaze snapped to yours.

But instead of the usual mischief, or that smug grin he wore like second skin, what you got was something else entirely.

Focus.

His undivided attention. His dark eyes locked on you with a sudden intensity that hit you like a Stupefy to the chest.

You almost gasped.

Almost.

Swallowing nervously you forced your voice to remain steady. “Did you get that, or are you just pretending again?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he blinked slowly, then leaned forward—arms resting on the table now. “You talk like I haven’t been listening this whole time.”

You scoffed. “You’ve done everything but listen.”

“I watch,” he said simply. “I pick things up.”

His eyes flicked to your hand, where your fingers gripped the quill just a little too tightly, then back up to your face.

“I pick you up.”

Your pulse stuttered.

You hated how it did that. Hated how your body reacted when your brain was screaming to stay cool.

But you didn’t let it show.

You leaned forward slightly, voice cold and crisp. “Then pick this up too: if you don’t stop wasting my time, I will stop tutoring you. And Professor McGonagall won’t save you from the next exam.”

You then picked up your wand and pointed to the diagram in the book, keeping your eyes on the page and not on the heat of his gaze.

“Now. Watch closely.”

And for once, he did.

His eyes didn’t flick away. No snide comment, no snort of fake interest, no distracted glance at someone walking by. Just full, uninterrupted attention on you.

And you didn’t know if you preferred it when he wasn’t focusing on you.

Because when he wasn’t, it made you annoyed. Angry, even. You could deal with that. You were good at handling irritation. You’d perfected the art of brushing it off, biting back sharp words, and pushing through.

But when he was?

When his gaze followed your every movement, when his expression dropped all traces of that cocky, careless mask he always wore, when he tilted his head just slightly like he was trying to understand you, trying to see how you worked?

It made your skin warm.

It made your throat tighten and your hands go still for a beat too long.

It made you flushed.

You kept your focus on the parchment between you, using it like a shield. You lifted your wand, demonstrated the proper movement for the Switching Spell—slow, precise, circular—and muttered the incantation under your breath. The inkwell and the candle beside it switched places instantly.

“Got it?” you asked, proud of the steadiness in your voice.

He didn’t answer right away.

“Yeah,” he said, a bit lower than usual. “Yeah, I got it.”

You looked up, and there it was again—that look. Not amused. Not impressed. Just… locked in.

You snapped your fingers, trying to shatter the tension like it was just another spell. “Then show me.”

Heeseung leaned back, rolled his shoulders, and picked up his wand with an ease that was almost insulting. For someone who was supposedly failing, he sure held it like he knew what he was doing.

“Don’t half-ass it,” you warned.

He smirked, but there was something less smug about it this time.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and cast the spell.

The movement wasn’t perfect—his circle was too wide—but the objects did switch places, albeit with a small spark and a thud that made the nearby students jump.

You blinked.

He looked down at the table, then up at you with a crooked grin. “Close enough?”

You didn’t say anything at first. Because no, it wasn’t perfect. But it wasn’t bad, either. It was better than anything you expected from him.

“…Lucky shot,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

But he only chuckled, sitting back with that same maddening confidence. “Nah. Told you I pick things up.”

And again, that gaze lingered.

You turned back to your notes to hide the way your pulse betrayed you, scribbling something down just to keep your hands moving.

Because if he kept looking at you like that…

You weren’t sure what would burn first. Your face. Or your patience.

Good news for you was that things did change. Not overnight, but gradually—just enough that it made you question the entire reason you ever thought this tutoring arrangement was a waste of time.

Heeseung didn’t stop acting like a cocky, insufferable idiot, though. No, that part remained stubbornly the same. He’d show up late, talk too much, make offhand comments that usually made you want to hex him, and still find ways to turn every lesson into some kind of twisted competition. But something else had shifted, too—something deeper than his usual antics.

When he listened, he really listened. When he struggled, he admitted it (rarely, but it happened). And when you got frustrated with him, he didn’t ignore it, or brush it off with some half-hearted attempt at humor. No, he seemed... almost genuinely concerned. But only for a second. Then his pride took over again, like some kind of safety mechanism to protect that delicate ego of his.

It was maddening.

One evening, after a particularly tough session with a tricky Transfiguration charm, Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair like the world was falling apart. His textbook lay open in front of him, the pages filled with smudged notes and scribbled doodles.

“I’m just saying,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Transfiguration isn’t supposed to be this hard. It’s supposed to be about finesse. A little magic here, a little concentration there...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you still can’t turn your quill into a bird?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

You scoffed, eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“I don’t have an excuse,” he muttered, but his tone lacked the usual bravado. He looked down at his wand, tapping it idly on the table. “Just... sometimes it’s harder than it looks.”

“Sometimes?” You shot him a skeptical glance. “You’ve been barely passing this whole year, Heeseung.”

He flinched at the words, the usual cheeky smile fading for just a second, but then he quickly recovered, slapping his hand on the table with a grin. “It’s not that bad.”

You weren’t having it. “It is that bad. You can’t keep slacking off and expect things to work out, Heeseung. Not everything can be handed to you because of your charm or your looks.”

His expression shifted again—this time, he looked a little less amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was your turn to bite back your frustration. “You act like you don’t care about anything but your reputation. But if you actually put in the effort, you might actually get somewhere.”

There was a long, tense silence between the two of you. Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it almost seemed like he was going to snap at you. But then he just looked away, clearly annoyed.

“Whatever,” he muttered, shoving his book aside. “Not like I need to impress anyone. I’m just here because you’re too stubborn to let me fail.”

You scoffed. “You think I care if you fail? I care because you’re better than this. I’ve seen it, Heeseung. I know you’re capable of more than this laziness.”

He shot you a quick, almost bitter smile, though there was something different in his eyes. “So you do care.”

You froze, caught off guard by his words. But you couldn’t let it show, so you quickly masked it with a scoff. “What? No. I just don’t want to waste my time with someone who thinks they can coast through everything. If I’m tutoring you, you might as well try.”

Heeseung leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, a glimmer of that familiar smirk returning. “So, you do care, but not because of me. Got it.”

You glared at him, but there was something in his expression—something that wasn’t the usual cocky arrogance. It was vulnerability, but it lasted only a moment before he buried it under his usual snark.

“I don’t care about your pride, Heeseung. I care about you getting a decent grade. You don’t have to keep acting like you’ve got everything figured out, because trust me—you don’t.”

Heeseung didn’t respond at first, but when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more serious than usual.

“I don’t need anyone’s help, alright?” He looked you in the eye, his expression hardening. “But I’m here because... maybe I want to try. Not for you. But for myself.”

You paused. That wasn’t what you were expecting. But instead of softening in the moment, you just shook your head.

“Then stop pretending it’s all easy. Focus, Heeseung. Or you’re not going to get anywhere.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, before his lips curled into that annoying half-smile.

“Fine,” he said, pushing the book back in front of him. “But don’t act like I’m going to be good at it just because you say so.”

“Don’t act like you’re above it, and we’ll get along just fine.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, the motion so exaggerated that it almost looked like it hurt. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, genius. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You just glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he grabbed a piece of parchment, uncaringly scribbling something down, his concentration on the paper only lasting a second. And then—of course—he crumpled it into a ball, smirking like a mischievous child.

Before you could even react, he flicked his wand, and the ball unfolded, neatly transformed into a paper plane. With another flick of his wand, he sent it sailing through the air.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

It flew across the table and landed with ease at a nearby group of girls who were quietly studying—or so you thought. They looked up, surprised at first, but as one of them picked up the paper, curiosity lit up in their eyes. She unfolded it, quickly scanning the message, then immediately burst into giggles. The others leaned in to read it, then broke into even louder giggles.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the table, watching as they passed the note around. The girls all glanced at Heeseung, their giggles escalating.

Heeseung, as usual, couldn’t resist. He winked at them, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, before looking back at you.

You groaned, rubbing your temple in disbelief. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he casually surveyed the girls across the room, whose attention was now entirely on him.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice low, “you should stop groaning so much. It’s a little... distracting.”

You glared at him, but the look on his face told you he was only getting started. He leaned in, dropping his voice an octave lower as his eyes slowly traced over you—way too much attention for your liking.

“Tell me," he teased, voice dripping with mischief, “what other sounds can you make?”

You felt your heart jump in your chest, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you just crossed your arms, straightened your posture, and focused on the textbook in front of you, trying to act like he didn’t just pull your focus away from everything you were trying to do.

But then—damn him—he took his time eyeing you up and down, and that was when he did it: He bit his bottom lip slowly, like he knew exactly what that simple motion was doing to you.

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself. It was bad enough he was acting like this—completely insufferable. But the worst part? It was working.

You shook your head, pushing the feelings down. "You’re so annoying," you muttered, knowing full well you’d never get through this session if you kept reacting to his ridiculous antics.

He leaned back in his chair again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t bite... unless you want me to.”

You wanted to throw your book at him. You really did. But you didn’t. Instead, you just rubbed your temples again, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You’re wasting my time, Heeseung. Focus.”

“Focus?” He arched an eyebrow at you. “I’m always focused. You’re the one with the fascinating reactions.”

You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but he was already standing, stretching his arms above his head, clearly in no hurry to actually do any of the work you’d assigned.

“What are you doing?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Taking a break,” he said, flashing you another one of those infuriating smiles. “You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t tell me you don’t need one, too.”

Your fingers twitched toward your wand, ready to curse him into next week, but instead, you held yourself back. “I’m fine,” you said, voice tight. “You go ahead and enjoy your little break.”

He winked at you again before strolling over to the girls at the other table, as if they were more interesting than your study session—or you, for that matter.

And it drove you mad. He’d clearly given up on pretending to care about the lesson, and that annoyed you more than it should have.

You were left to grumble quietly under your breath, flipping through the pages of the textbook without really reading a word. You could feel the frustration building again. No matter how much you tried to focus, you kept thinking about how much easier it would be to just report Heeseung to Professor McGonagall and be done with it. The constant interruptions, the childish distractions—he was making it impossible to tutor him. But then again, you had agreed. You’d taken this on because you thought you could make him better, and you hated admitting when something was beyond your control.

But with every lesson that went by and with Heeseung clearly not caring, your patience was running thin. You had a reputation to protect, and you refused to let him make a mockery of that. But deep down, you were tired. And that was the part you hated the most, the fact that you did care, even if he didn’t seem to.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely even noticed the shift in the air around you. It wasn’t until you heard a voice call your name that you snapped out of it.

“Hey,” the voice was familiar—warm and friendly. “Mind if I sit?”

You blinked, looking up from your notes to see your friend Taesan sliding into the seat next to you.

“Taesan?” you muttered, surprised but relieved to see him. You hadn’t even realized you were so wound up. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice light as he dropped his bag beside him and began pulling out his own materials. He looked over at the table where Heeseung was still chatting with the girls, the laughter from across the room not at all surprising to him. “Is that your project for the day?” He nodded toward your open Transfiguration textbook.

You snorted, rubbing the back of your neck as you forced yourself to relax. “You could say that. More like a hopeless case.”

Taesan raised an eyebrow. “A hopeless case? Someone finally getting under your skin?” He turned to look at Heeseung with a knowing glance. “I take it the charm of Mr. Unpredictable isn’t working in your favor?”

You sighed, closing the book with a snap, the frustration bubbling over despite your best efforts to hold it in. “Heeseung isn’t getting anywhere. He doesn’t even try. He just ignored me at first. But now, he’s making me look like a joke.”

“Sounds like he’s really pushing your buttons,” Taesan remarked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But you’re not giving up, right? Because if you’re thinking of quitting, I’ll need to get some popcorn for this show.”

You rolled your eyes, but his words made you pause. You couldn’t give up, could you? Not after everything you’d put into trying to help him. You weren’t the type to throw in the towel—especially not now.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “He’s just making everything so much harder than it needs to be. I don’t know how much more I can do, Taesan. I’ve tried everything.”

Taesan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head in that carefree way he always did, his expression suddenly serious. “You know, sometimes people act out because they’re scared. Or because they don’t want to face what’s right in front of them. Maybe that’s why Heeseung’s acting like such a... pain in the ass.” He looked at you, then back at Heeseung. “He might need someone to call him on his crap. But it’s clear that someone isn’t gonna be you unless you’re okay with taking the risk.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. “But I can’t just... let it slide. I’m responsible for this. I said I’d help him. If I bail now, I’d look like I can’t even keep my word.”

Taesan shrugged nonchalantly. “So what? If you need a break, you need a break. You’re not going to be able to help him if you’re burning out yourself.”

He had a point. You were burning out. It wasn’t just Heeseung—it was all the pressure you’d put on yourself to fix everything. You hadn’t realized how much it had been weighing on you until this moment.

Taesan smiled knowingly. “Look, whatever you decide, just remember that you don’t have to do it alone. Sometimes even the people who act like they don’t care the most are the ones who need help the most. But you can’t save him if you’re drowning yourself.”

You exhaled slowly, letting his words sink in. “I don’t even know how to start,” you said softly.

“Then start by letting go of the idea that you have to do it all,” Taesan said, giving you a reassuring look. “You don’t have to fix him. Just... let him find his own way. But you’ve got to stop trying to control everything. It’ll help.”

You were silent for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over you. Maybe you didn’t have to fix everything. Maybe you just needed to let Heeseung handle his own mess for once.

But you couldn’t help the lingering doubt. Was you stepping back enough? Would he finally get it?

Taesan snapped his fingers, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hey, we’re friends, right? So don’t think you’re getting away that easily. You are going to help me with Herbology later, right?”

You smiled, despite the lingering frustration. “Yeah, I guess I owe you one.”

He chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Taesan's lighthearted smile pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked over at him. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little too. It felt good to just be with someone who didn’t make everything feel like a battle. He was calm, focused, and actually listened.

“Alright,” you said, shifting your attention to Taesan’s Herbology assignment, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

He grinned sheepishly, pulling out a parchment covered in messy notes. “I know, I know, I’ve been slacking on this. Help me out, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’ll give you the basics. The rest is on you.”

The two of you spent the next while reviewing the material together—practical plant care, the finer points of herbology ingredients, and their magical uses. The difference between working with Taesan and Heeseung was night and day. Taesan actually engaged with the lesson, asked questions when he was confused, and gave you his full attention. It felt like a relief. You were able to help him piece everything together, and you even managed to finish his assignment far faster than you’d expected.

“So,” Taesan said, setting down his quill, “how’d I do?”

You reviewed his work with a critical eye before nodding. “Better than usual. Just pay more attention to the details next time, but overall, not bad.”

Taesan looked pleased, but then his smile faltered slightly as he glanced over your shoulder. You heard the familiar sound of footsteps, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you knew exactly who it was before you even turned around.

Heeseung.

And the look on his face made your stomach drop.

He wasn’t mad, per se, but his gaze was sharp—like a storm brewing just behind those dark eyes. And more importantly, he wasn’t happy to see Taesan sitting there.

Taesan, ever the easygoing one, noticed the shift in Heeseung’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss something, or is there a problem, Heeseung?”

Heeseung’s gaze flicked between you and Taesan, his jaw tightening for a brief second before he forced a smirk onto his face. “No problem,” he said, his voice too casual to be genuine. “I just didn’t realize you two were so cozy.”

You could feel your nerves tingle, and you noticed Taesan’s posture shift slightly. You quickly turned to face Heeseung, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You’re late,” you said, keeping the irritation from creeping in. “Did you finally get done with your ‘break’?”

Heeseung didn’t answer you right away. Instead, he glanced back at Taesan again, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I didn’t think I needed an invitation to join the fun, but I see you’ve found someone else to entertain you.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, “You sure he’s... worthy of your time?”

Taesan didn’t even flinch at the insinuation. He leaned back in his chair, clearly unfazed by Heeseung’s attempt at intimidation. “I don’t need your approval, mate. We were just talking—something you might want to try more of.”

You could feel the tension crackling between them. It wasn’t the first time Heeseung had been possessive or thrown a subtle jab, but you couldn’t help the growing sense of discomfort that settled in your chest.

“I’m here to study, not to deal with this,” you said, cutting in before things escalated any further. You stood up, setting your quill down with a little more force than necessary. “Heeseung, sit down. Let’s get this over with.”

Heeseung looked at you for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he did as you asked. He pulled out the seat across from you, though he was clearly still holding a grudge.

You sat back down, trying to ignore the tense atmosphere between him and Taesan, who was now staring Heeseung down with the same quiet defiance. There was a moment where you thought Heeseung might open his mouth and throw a remark, but then, he just sighed.

“Fine,” he muttered, dropping his bag on the table and flipping open his textbook. “Let’s get this over with.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Taesan, sensing that things had shifted enough, gave you a small, almost apologetic smile before standing up to gather his things. “I’m gonna head out. Looks like you’ve got this under control,” he said, his tone still light, though there was a knowing edge to it.

You nodded gratefully, smiling back at him. “Thanks, Taesan. Don’t worry about me.”

Taesan gave you a casual wave before heading toward the door, leaving you alone with Heeseung.

Once he was gone, the tension in the air thickened. Heeseung didn’t look at you, instead focusing on the book in front of him, but you could feel the way his mood had shifted. The easygoing act was gone. Now, it was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure how this was going to go.

“So,” you said, trying to fill the awkward silence, “ready to focus?”

Heeseung didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he turned his attention to the textbook in front of him, flipping through the pages with surprising focus. For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of parchment and the quiet humming from Heeseung. You waited, unsure of whether you should prod further or just let him work.

To your surprise, he muttered something under his breath, then pointed his wand at the textbook, murmuring the incantation. You had expected him to stumble, as he had so many times before. But when he flicked his wrist, the transformation happened on the first try. The object on the table shifted seamlessly—just like it was supposed to.

You blinked, staring at him for a moment, before glancing at the textbook. It was perfect.

“Did you... just—?” You couldn’t even finish your question, your surprise evident in your voice.

Heeseung didn’t seem fazed at all. He shrugged nonchalantly, dropping his wand onto the table with a casual gesture. “Yeah. First try. I’m not completely hopeless, you know.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. For the last few days, you’d been ready to give up on him, thinking he was either not trying or just plain incapable. But this? This was... different.

“You’ve been holding back, haven’t you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. Something didn’t sit right. It was too easy, too quick for someone who had been struggling with the incantations for so long.

Heeseung glanced at you with a bored expression, as if he couldn’t care less about your suspicion. “No, I just didn’t feel like trying before. But if you want me to pass, guess I have to get serious.” He said it like it was no big deal, like it was nothing.

You stared at him, speechless for a moment, before you caught yourself. This wasn’t the Heeseung you were used to. No, this one was determined. And the fact that he’d done it so effortlessly made you wonder just how much of his previous behavior was an act.

“You’re telling me you’ve been pretending this whole time?” You couldn’t quite hide the incredulity in your voice. “You’ve been messing around just for fun?”

Heeseung met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Maybe,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a small, mischievous smile. “Or maybe I just didn’t think you’d be able to handle it.”

You felt a sharp pang of annoyance rise up. “Handle it? You’ve been wasting my time with this nonsense?”

Heeseung’s smile widened slightly, but there was no mockery in it. “Well, it’s not like I’ve been completely wasting your time,” he said lightly. “Look at you. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard, just to fix me. And now... well, now you get to see that I’m capable of more than you think.”

For a split second, you were caught off guard by the way he said it. His words weren’t condescending, nor were they playful in the usual way.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “This is so much more complicated than I thought.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Life is complicated. You should know that by now.”

And with that, he grabbed his wand again, flicking it casually at the book in front of him, demonstrating the spell again, as if to prove a point.

Again, there was no hesitation in his movements. Just a simple, clean transformation of the object on the page.

You had to admit it—he’d done it again. Perfectly.

You couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. Was Heeseung really just playing you the whole time? Or was there something else going on here? Either way, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Alright, you’re done,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Just... don’t let it go to your head.”

Heeseung didn’t respond at first, but you could feel his gaze on you as he packed away his things. When he did speak, it was quieter than before, almost... serious.

“I’m just getting started...”

It was the first time he’d said anything without his usual swagger. And it sent a ripple of unease through you.

It was much easier for you to get Heeseung to focus after that day. His sudden progress—effortless and unnerving—was like a shift in the universe that made everything feel just a bit off. He listened now, followed instructions without teasing, and actually managed to nail every single spell you demonstrated. For once, he wasn’t playing games. The lessons were no longer frustrating. They were... manageable.

But you couldn’t shake the suspicion that had wormed its way into your mind.

It was too much of a coincidence that Heeseung’s sudden motivation came right after he saw you with Taesan. And it wasn’t like you were blind. You knew there was something between them. You weren’t stupid. The way Heeseung would glare at Taesan, the tension between them—it was obvious.

You could tell from their interactions that there was a rivalry, maybe even something more personal. The small comments Heeseung had made, the way he’d been on edge when he saw Taesan at the library, it didn’t take much to piece it together. You weren’t used to meddling in other people’s business, but this situation had you curious. You weren’t sure if it was just Heeseung being... Heeseung, or if there was something else at play.

So, you did what anyone would do when they were curious: you asked Taesan.

It wasn’t hard to find him. He was sitting at a table in the Great Hall, eating with a few friends. You walked over and slid into the seat across from him, giving him a small smile.

"Hey," you said casually, your voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. "I need to ask you something."

Taesan looked up from his meal, pausing when he saw the seriousness on your face. “Sure, what’s up?”

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was sitting at a table nearby, surrounded by his usual crowd. He looked as smug as ever, but you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to you and Taesan for a moment.

“Is there something going on between you and Heeseung?” you asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

Taesan blinked at you in surprise, but then he chuckled, shaking his head. “You noticed, huh?”

“Of course I did. You two are clearly not on the best terms. What’s going on?”

Taesan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. "We’re rivals. Quidditch rivals, to be exact." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the competition, right? He’s a Chaser, I’m the Seeker. We’ve been going at it for years.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Quidditch? That’s it?"

Taesan chuckled again, this time with a bit more warmth. “It’s more than just the game. There’s... a bit of history between us. It goes beyond the pitch. We’ve always been at odds. Heeseung likes to act like he’s all carefree and cool, but trust me, there’s a lot of pride under that laid-back act.”

You couldn’t help but frown at that. Of course Heeseung had pride. You’d seen it firsthand. But you didn’t realize how much of it was tied up in something as simple as a rivalry. It felt deeper than that, more personal.

So you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “You said it goes beyond the pitch. What did you mean by that? What history?”

Taesan let out a long, tired sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He looked like he was debating whether or not to tell you, but in the end, he gave in with a shrug.

“It’s stupid, really,” he muttered. “But back in fourth year, there was… a girl.”

You blinked. “A girl?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at you as if gauging your reaction. “She wasn’t just any girl, either. She was brilliant—top of her class in Charms, wicked on a broomstick, and not afraid to throw a Bat-Bogey Hex at anyone who crossed her. Both Heeseung and I were… interested.”

You stared at him, trying to picture it. Heeseung chasing after someone with the same chaos and cocky charm he always wore like a badge. And Taesan—calm, composed Taesan—competing alongside him? That was a dynamic you hadn’t imagined before.

“So… what happened?” you asked slowly.

“We both tried to win her over,” Taesan explained, his voice laced with the bitterness of old memory. “It got competitive fast. Dumb things. Dueling in secret, trying to outshine each other in class, showing off during Quidditch matches. She didn’t pick either of us in the end.”

You tilted your head, brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“She got expelled,” he said flatly.

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

Taesan nodded, a bit grimly. “Turns out she was experimenting with some really dangerous spells. Things that weren’t exactly legal. Word got out. She was caught with a restricted book and some potion ingredients that she shouldn't have had access to. Boom. Gone. Just like that.”

You sat there in stunned silence, processing that. “And neither of you knew?”

“Not a clue,” Taesan admitted. “We were both so wrapped up in competing, we didn’t even realize what she was up to. After that, everything between me and Heeseung just… soured. It stopped being friendly competition. It turned personal. Real fast.”

You looked over at Heeseung’s table again, at the way he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, laughing at something one of his mates said. You never would’ve guessed a story like that lived behind the easy smirks and constant flirting.

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath.

Taesan gave you a wry smile. “Told you it was stupid.”

“It’s kind of tragic,” you said honestly.

“Yeah, well, so is being stuck tutoring him,” Taesan joked, nudging you with his elbow again. “You’ve got patience. I’ll give you that.”

You huffed, more to yourself than anyone else. Because the more you learned, the less simple Heeseung became. And for someone who liked things to be controlled and straightforward… you had a feeling you were walking right into the storm without even meaning to.

You were mid-grumble, muttering something to Taesan about prideful idiots and hopeless causes when you suddenly felt it—that eerie, unmistakable tingle of someone standing directly behind you. Too close. Too quiet.

Taesan’s eyes flicked up from his plate, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Oh—Heeseung.”

Wait. What?

Your heart stuttered.

Heeseung was right behind you?

Before you could turn, before you could even react, strong arms wrapped around you from behind, and you were abruptly pulled to your feet with a surprised yelp that got caught in your throat. Your back hit a solid chest—his chest—and before you could squirm away, he had you trapped there, completely engulfed in his arms like this was a normal thing. Like this was something he always did.

“What are you two gossiping about, hmm?” His voice was low, teasing, warm against your ear.

You blinked, stunned, a thousand questions swirling in your head—but your body was locked up, frozen by the sudden contact, by how close he was, by how tight his grip had become around your waist. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t loose. It was possessive. Like he dared you to even think about slipping out of his grasp.

Taesan just chuckled from across the table, completely unbothered. “Nothing much. Just how tragic it is that someone needs tutoring in the first place.”

You could hear the grin in Heeseung’s voice. “Ah, I’m sure you’re both having a lovely little bonding moment over my academic struggles.”

“We were,” Taesan said casually. “Right up until you crashed it.”

You tried to move—just a little. But Heeseung’s arm only tightened, pressing you a fraction closer, like he was trying to make a point.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, eyes probably dancing with amusement.

You finally managed to find your voice, though it came out a bit strangled. “Heeseung. Let go.”

He didn’t. Instead, he dipped his head, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “You smell like cinnamon.”

You almost choked.

“Heeseung.” You tried again, firmer this time, ignoring the burning in your cheeks.

But he didn’t budge. If anything, his hold on you tightened subtly, his mouth lowering just enough that his breath brushed the shell of your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and smooth like velvet, “you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed… it’s kind of cute.”

You stiffened.

“And when you blush,” he continued, tilting his head closer until his nose nearly brushed your jaw, “it climbs all the way to your ears. Like right now.”

Your breath hitched—barely, but enough.

Taesan, ever the gentleman—or maybe just wisely pretending not to see anything—went back to his food with a quiet hum, though you noticed the small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

You tried to wriggle free again, but Heeseung was already turning you slightly, his arm sliding around your waist, guiding you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on,” he said softly, lips still far too close to your skin. “You’re too tense. Let's get some air.”

“Heeseung—”

“Shh,” he said, the sound near your ear making your skin erupt in goosebumps. “You’ll thank me.”

And before you could protest again, he was steering you smoothly out of the Great Hall like it was his own personal ballroom and you were a dance partner he’d claimed without asking.

You glanced behind you in disbelief, catching Taesan’s knowing gaze as he lazily chewed on a piece of toast and lifted a subtle eyebrow, like told you so.

Heeseung didn’t stop until you were halfway down a corridor just outside the Hall, where the hum of voices faded behind you and the only sound was the soft echo of your shoes against the stone floor.

“Can you let go now?” you muttered, though your voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as it should’ve been. It came out softer than you intended, too laced with the breathlessness he always seemed to draw out of you—like he knew exactly how to unravel your composure.

He didn’t move at first.

Heeseung just looked at you, head tilted slightly, eyes flicking across your face as if he was reading something only he could see. “No,” he said finally, voice low. “Not yet.”

You blinked. “Why not?”

His grip around your waist loosened, but only so he could trail his fingers along the side of your arm. “Because the second I do, you’re going to run,” he murmured. “And I’m not done messing with you yet.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “I’m not some game, Heeseung.”

His gaze softened for a fleeting second. “I know.”

Then—just like that—his expression shifted again. That cocky grin returned, sharp and smug. “But I do like the way you play.”

You scoffed, trying to push away from him, but he caught your wrist gently before you could take a step back.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not dragging you into a dungeon. I just wanted you away from him.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Taesan?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Quidditch boy. With the puppy eyes and that little half-smile like he’s the good guy in a tragic romance. Please.”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Are you jealous?”

Heeseung laughed—loud, unbothered, head tipping back just a little as the sound echoed off the stone walls. “Jealous? Trust me, princess,” he said, flashing you a lazy grin, “if I was jealous, you wouldn’t be standing all prim and proper like this.”

Your brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark with mischief, and in a low, velvety whisper he said, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You stiffened. Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Because Merlin help you, you did know what he meant.

Heeseung’s gaze dragged down the line of your body and then right back up, settling on your mouth for a fraction too long before he smirked again—like he’d just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Your heart was thudding in your ears, heat climbing your neck as you instinctively crossed your arms—whether to shield yourself from his gaze or stop yourself from grabbing him by the collar, you weren’t entirely sure.

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid everything.

You clenched your jaw, staring hard at the empty stretch of corridor ahead of you instead of the very real, very smug boy standing beside you. If you looked at him now—if you met his eyes—you knew you’d lose the last ounce of control you were holding onto by a thread.

“For what reason exactly,” you eventually bit out, “did you drag me out of the Great Hall like some deranged lunatic?”

Heeseung only hummed, hands casually stuffed in his pockets like he hadn’t just manhandled you in front of half the school. “Hmm… good question.”

You turned to him sharply, fully prepared to tear into him again, when he finally moved.

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled something out of his pocket—a folded parchment, slightly crinkled at the edges—and held it out between two fingers like he was offering you a sweet.

You blinked, hesitated, then snatched it from him, unfolding it with a frown.

Your eyes scanned the page once. Then twice.

It was his most recent Transfiguration assignment. The same one Professor McGonagall had assigned last week. The one you’d spent literal hours preparing him for—between all the teasing, the distractions, and your mounting frustration.

And there it was. In neat, slanted handwriting at the top of the parchment:

Outstanding.

You stared at it in disbelief, lips parting slightly. “You…”

Heeseung leaned against the wall again, smug as ever. “I know. Don’t look so shocked. Hurts my feelings.”

“But you—” You looked back down at the parchment, flipping it over like maybe it was a trick. Like maybe he’d bribed the house elves to forge it. “You barely paid attention. You threw a paper plane across the table, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And still managed to impress McGonagall,” he said, voice lined with pride. “Maybe I just needed the right kind of motivation.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Me threatening to quit tutoring?”

He grinned. “You sitting next to Quidditch boy with the doe eyes.”

You flushed instantly. “It’s not like that.”

“Didn’t say it was,” Heeseung said lightly, pushing off the wall and stepping closer again, chin tilted just slightly as he watched you—like he was trying to read something from your face. “But maybe I didn’t like it.”

You folded the parchment and shoved it back into his chest, scowling at the way your heart thudded. "Idiot."

You had found the perfect form of motivation for Heeseung to actually study and learn.

And that motivation?

Taesan.

It was ridiculous how fast Heeseung would straighten up, stop doodling, and actually focus the second Taesan entered the picture. Just the sight of the other boy sitting beside you, exchanging notes or laughing at something you'd said, was enough to turn Heeseung into the most attentive student Hogwarts had ever seen. Wand out, quill ready, eyes glued to the parchment like he had something to prove. And in a way… he did.

Only downside?

You felt horribly guilty for using Taesan. Not that he minded. In fact, he was thrilled to play along.

"Anything to get under Heeseung’s skin," he'd said with a wink one afternoon, leaning a little closer to you on purpose. "And if I get to spend time with you too? Bonus."

It made you laugh—awkward and a bit flustered—but it worked. Every. Single. Time. Heeseung would visibly bristle, jaw tight, mouth twitching with words he didn’t say. He never said it, but you knew.

Because the second Taesan was gone, the aftermath began with Heeseung.

Cause he suddenly acted like he'd laid a claim on you.

That was the only way you could describe it.

Suddenly he was everywhere—next to you in the corridors, walking you to class even when he had somewhere else to be, sitting close enough during tutoring that your knees brushed under the table. He started calling you his tutor in a tone that left no room for argument. When people passed by and looked too long, he would casually drape an arm over your chair, or mutter something low like, “Should we give them a show?”

You told him to shut up.

You told him to stop.

But you didn’t move away.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Because you stopped wanting to. And you hated it.

You hated how easily Heeseung got under your skin, how his smirks lingered in your mind long after he was gone, how the scent of his cologne clung to your robe whenever he leaned in too close. You hated that you were supposed to be the composed one—the logical, focused, untouchable one.

But then he’d tilt his head and say something like, “You missed me, didn’t you?” and you’d feel like your entire body betrayed you with one stupid skip of your heart.

You told yourself it was the game. Just tension from tutoring and competition. Just hormones.

But it didn’t explain the way he looked at you now, the way he acted around you now.

It became a pattern. He’d be an asshole in front of Taesan, smug and dramatic, acting like the library was his personal performance stage and you were his muse.

And when he wasn’t throwing smug glances or making comments under his breath that had no right making your face warm, he was staring at you like he wanted to memorize you.

Like he already had.

You caught him once, watching you too intently as you explained something. Your words faltered mid-sentence, and his mouth quirked up into something soft, almost fond.

“What?” you mumbled.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Just… I don’t think you even realize it, do you?”

“Realize what?”

He just leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“How fun it is to be yours.”

And you swore your heart forgot how to beat.

You actually almost slipped once.

It had been one of those quieter study sessions—no Taesan, no distractions, just the two of you tucked into the corner of the library where no one really went after hours. You had your notes spread out, a well-worn Transfiguration text open between you, and Heeseung was shockingly cooperative that evening.

At least at first.

He was sitting beside you—closer than usual. So close your legs were almost touching beneath the table, and your arms kept brushing whenever you reached for your quill or turned a page. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself you were used to it by now. You were fine.

But then he leaned in.

You didn’t even notice at first—too busy flipping to the next chapter and scribbling notes—but then his shoulder pressed against yours, and the heat of him was right there, and before you could even blink, he was so close.

You turned to say something—maybe a snarky comment, maybe a reminder to focus—and froze.

He was already looking at you.

Both of your faces were so close, your noses practically brushed. The words caught in your throat, completely useless now as you felt his breath fan across your cheek.

Heeseung inhaled slowly, like even the scent of you was enough to short-circuit his brain.

And then he looked down at your lips.

Your gaze dropped too—without thinking, without meaning to—and Merlin, it was like everything in the room stopped. The flickering candlelight, the soft scratch of parchment from nearby students, even the voice of Madam Pince scolding students.

Nothing moved.

You didn’t move.

And Heeseung?

If he leaned in even half an inch more, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

But your body knew.

And that was what terrified you most.

But as you and Heeseung locked eyes again, that fear that felt so suffocating a moment ago seemed to melt away.

It felt like a slow-moving storm, the kind that doesn’t give you a chance to prepare. You could feel his breath brushing against your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as his gaze dropped to your lips once again.

You both leaned in so slow at first that it felt like the longest moment of your life.

Heeseung’s hand moved, fingers brushing against the table, as if he was hesitating, waiting for something, or maybe waiting for you. You didn’t know. All you could focus on was the fact that every inch of space between you was slowly disappearing.

And then, in that instant, your lips almost touched—just the smallest gap left between you, the air thick with tension, and you could’ve sworn you heard your own heart pounding in your ears.

"Stop," you whispered.

The word didn’t even sound like it came from your mouth. It was too quiet, too shaky, too unconvincing.

Heeseung’s lips quirked into that familiar, maddening grin, though it was different now—softer.

“You don’t really want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You agreed with him breathlessly, the words slipping out before you even realized you’d said them. “No... I don’t.”

The moment you agreed, his hand, which had been lingering beside you, slowly slid to the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your skin with just the right amount of pressure. You inhaled sharply as he gently cupped the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing circles that made your skin prickle.

Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressed softly against yours. It was almost like he was claiming you, but there was something tender in the way he moved, as if he was savoring the moment. Like he was savoring you.

You couldn’t pull away. Not that you wanted to. Everything in you was telling you to let go, to lean into it, and so you did. You let yourself fall into the kiss, hands trembling as they reached for him—one resting against his chest, the other finding its way into his hair.

Heeseung’s other hand slipped around to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you at all. Your breath mingled with his, shallow and fast, and the kiss deepened, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. You were losing yourself to him. The way he tasted, the way he moved, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours.

You clung to him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if you needed him to ground you. Every little touch, every movement, felt like it was pulling you deeper into the moment, and you couldn’t fight it, not anymore. Heeseung’s groan escaped quietly, his body slightly tensing as he responded to your touch.

He paused for a split second, pulling away just enough to catch his breath. His gaze was dark, almost like he was fighting with himself, but he didn’t let go of you.

His lips ghosted over your cheek, just a gentle caress, and then he whispered, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be…”

You could only nod slightly, too lost in the sensation of him against you to form coherent words. It felt so... right in a way you hadn’t expected.

Heeseung’s hand rested on your waist, a steady pressure that kept you close, yet he wasn’t pushing any further. And then, as if he had suddenly realized how dangerously close you both were to crossing a line, he leaned back slightly.

“Maybe we should... slow down,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours, though his voice was still thick, like he wasn’t completely ready to let go of this moment either.

You shook your head, the words barely leaving your lips before you found yourself closing the distance again, your mouth finding his in a fierce kiss.

“No,” you mumbled against his lips, your voice breathless, almost desperate.

Heeseung let out a low, frustrated curse, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed you back with a force that made your knees weak. His hands roamed, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of the closeness either. His lips were insistent, hungry, and you responded in kind, losing yourself again.

Everything about this felt like a blur. The way his body pressed against yours, the heat between you two, the quiet noises of your breath and his mixed together. There was nothing but him and the way he made you feel, like you could finally let go of all the tension that had built up between you.

But just as quickly as it had started, Heeseung slowed the kiss, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to regain some composure.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered, still catching his breath, a small, amused smirk tugging at his lips.

You agreed with him dazed, your voice barely a whisper. “I know.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were trouble. You wanted trouble. And right now, you didn’t want to fight it. You were a woman of control, always calculating, always careful. But at that moment, you wanted to lose that control. You wanted him to take it. Heeseung had a way of making everything else feel insignificant—like all the careful walls you’d built around yourself were nothing compared to the pull of his presence.

And when you felt his hand slip to your waist, pulling you even closer, his lips pressing to your neck, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore. You needed him to take control.

His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, and you couldn’t help but shiver, your breath hitching as he kissed the sensitive skin there. You could feel his smirk against your skin as if he knew exactly what he was doing, how much power he held in this moment.

"Isn’t it fun letting everything go," he murmured against your skin, his words making your pulse quicken. You barely registered that he’d stopped speaking before he pulled you into another kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed into yours as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers brushing lightly before tightening as he pulled you even closer. He was taking control, and every part of you responded to it, eager, willing.

Heeseung’s kisses became more deliberate, teasing, as he moved his lips lower, his hands guiding you effortlessly, making you forget everything but the sensation of him. You felt like you were falling, and you didn’t want to stop.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” you murmured, barely keeping it together.

Heeseung only chuckled, a dark, teasing sound that sent another wave of heat through you. "That’s the plan," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed the sensitive spot just below it.

It was too much and not enough all at once. You could feel your heart racing, your breath uneven. Heeseung wasn’t just teasing anymore—he was making sure you didn’t have a single ounce of control left to cling to.

And, strangely enough, you didn’t want it back.

Heeseung's lips never left your skin, trailing slow, teasing kisses down your neck as his hands explored the curve of your waist, pulling you tighter against him. He wasn’t in a rush. No, he was savoring every second, every shiver that passed through you. His breath against your skin made you tremble, but his words did something entirely different.

"You’re such a good tutor," he whispered, voice low and laced with amusement. "Kept up with me so well. But I have to say, it’s funny how easy it is to make you crumble."

You felt the heat in your cheeks spread, your pulse quickening, but you couldn’t decide if it was from embarrassment or desire. His words were like a cruel taunt, yet they stirred something in you, something that was both humbling and arousing. You wanted to hide from the way he made you feel, but at the same time, the compliments mixed with his teasing sent a rush through your body that was impossible to ignore.

He kissed along the edge of your jaw, his lips brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness. "You're good at pretending to be in control," he continued, his voice turning darker. "But I can see it, can feel it... how easily you let go when I touch you, like a little defenseless kitty."

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to maintain your composure, but it was getting harder to hide the way your body betrayed you. The way your breath hitched when he whispered those words, how his touch made your thoughts scatter. You wanted to tell him to stop, to pull away but the way he made you feel… it was like nothing else mattered anymore.

And then, as if he could sense your internal struggle, he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark, smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You know, it’s cute when you try to pretend you’re not enjoying this,” he teased, voice low, almost a growl. “But I think we both know better.”

You couldn't meet his gaze. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, feeling too exposed, too vulnerable, too lost in the way he had turned your emotions inside out.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the heat of the moment swallow you whole. Heeseung had this uncanny ability to unravel you, to make you forget everything you had ever tried to control. He was playing with you, juggling your emotions with a skill that left you confused, unsure of where you stood, but completely under his spell.

Heeseung’s smirk only widened as he noticed the way you struggled to hold your ground. His hand slid lower, just enough to make you tense, his thumb brushing the curve of your waist in a way that made your breath catch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been pretending all this time, haven’t you?”

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, “You think you can handle me, don’t you? But you’re already cracking. You’re already letting me win.”

Heeseung’s hands were everywhere now—one still at your waist, the other now threading through your hair, tilting your head back as if he owned you. His lips brushed against your neck, and his teeth nipped at your skin, causing you to gasp.

"Don’t act like you don’t like it," he whispered, low and threatening. "You think I can’t see it? How easily I can make you forget all that control you love so much." His grip on you tightened, holding you in place as he added, “You thought you had everything under control, huh? But you’re nothing but a perfect little puppet on a string."

You felt the sting of his words, sharp and cutting but there was something about it that made you flush even more. Something about the way he made you feel both degraded and desired at the same time.

"You’re so good at pretending, but you can’t hide from me," he murmured, his voice dripping with fake sugary honey. "I see the way you need me. How badly you want me to break you down, make you lose control. I’ll take my time with you, though. Make you beg for it.”

His words were cruel, but the way he said them, the way his fingers gripped your jaw to force you to look at him, made it clear that he wasn’t going to stop until he had you exactly where he wanted.

And despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, part of you couldn’t help but lean into him, your body betraying you even as you tried to hold on to your last shred of control.

You hated chaos. You hated messy. You hated unpredictability and recklessness.

You thrived on control, on order, on being able to predict every outcome, to mold everything to fit into neat little categories.

But when it was all smashed together in a person, when it was him, something you couldn’t tame, something you couldn’t figure out no matter how much you tried?

Oh, how you loved it so much.

It was maddening, infuriating, and yet... addicting.

Heeseung was everything you hated. He was unpredictable. He was reckless, and he didn’t care who saw it. He didn’t care what anyone thought, least of all you. And it drove you insane. It made your blood boil, but it also made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain.

With every teasing word, every touch, every taunt, he peeled away at your control until there was nothing left but the raw need that had taken root deep within you. He made you ache in a way that was both pleasurable and frustrating, like being trapped in a whirlwind that you couldn’t escape but didn’t want to.

You couldn’t help but crave him—crave the chaos he brought, even though it scared the hell out of you. The way he made you feel alive in a way that no amount of control or precision ever could.

You didn’t want to be in control anymore.

You wanted him.

You wanted the chaos he offered, the unpredictability of him. Because, somehow, with him you were starting to find pieces of yourself you didn’t even know you’d lost somewhere along the way. And for once, you didn’t care.

Because as much as you hated chaos, it felt so damn good when it was with him.

a/n: oh yeah baby. i am ready for this man.

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[rainydetectiveglitter]

What People Are Jealous Of You For, Based on Your Part of Fortune (PoF):

Your Part of Fortune can reveal not only your natural talents and the areas in life where luck finds you but also what others might envy about you. Let’s break it down by house!

♈ PoF in the 1st House: aries

You seem to have a golden aura—people admire your individuality, confidence, and natural leadership abilities. You give off the impression of always knowing who you are, which others may envy.

What they won’t admit: They wish they could embody your level of independence and charisma.

♉ PoF in the 2nd House: taurus

Money and material resources seem to come naturally to you, or you find ways to live comfortably no matter the circumstances.

What they won’t admit: People might think you have a “money magnet” or assume you’re naturally privileged, not seeing the effort behind it.

♊ PoF in the 3rd House: gemini

Your wit, communication skills, and charm get you far. You have a way with words that makes others wish they could articulate themselves the way you do.

What they won’t admit: They might envy your ability to talk your way out of anything or the ease with which you connect and network.

♋ PoF in the 4th House: cancer

You have a knack for building a sense of home and stability. You may come from a solid family foundation or create your own haven of warmth and support.

What they won’t admit: They’re jealous of your seemingly unshakable roots and emotional depth, even if it looks simple on the outside.

♌ PoF in the 5th House: leo

People envy your creativity, passion, or magnetism. You attract joy, love, or even fame in a way that feels effortless.

What they won’t admit: You inspire, but your ability to light up any room can make others feel overshadowed.

♍ PoF in the 6th House: virgo

You thrive in routine, hard work, and being dependable. Your knack for problem-solving and consistency gets you ahead.

What they won’t admit: They resent that you excel at balancing discipline and grace, and secretly wish they had your work ethic.

♎ PoF in the 7th House: libra

You seem to attract partnerships, whether romantic, platonic, or professional. People admire how effortlessly relationships flow for you.

What they won’t admit: Some may assume you “rely too much on others” or get breaks from your connections that they don’t have.

♏ PoF in the 8th House: scorpio

People envy your ability to transform and rise from the ashes. You may have access to support, shared resources, or a deeply magnetic aura.

What they won’t admit: They wish they had your emotional resilience or mystique, not understanding the challenges that gave it to you.

♐ PoF in the 9th House: sagittarius

You have an enviable sense of freedom, adventure, and wisdom. People see you as expansive and full of life experiences.

What they won’t admit: They envy your ability to find opportunities in travel, education, or spirituality.

♑ PoF in the 10th House: capricorn

Success and recognition seem to find you. You radiate authority, competence, and ambition that people respect (and sometimes fear).

What they won’t admit: They may believe you have it “easy” professionally without seeing your efforts.

♒ PoF in the 11th House: aquarius

You’re surrounded by a network of friends, supporters, and community resources. People assume you always have someone to help you out.

What they won’t admit: They might think you don’t “deserve” all the support or see you as taking it for granted.

♓ PoF in the 12th House: pisces

You hold a deep inner peace, spiritual connection, or creative vision that others don’t fully understand.

What they won’t admit: They might resent your ability to find purpose or growth in solitude while feeling “lost” themselves.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.4k

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[loveemagicpeace]

🌹💫 How to Manifest According to Your Venus

Aries Venus

Manifesting Power:You can manifest through -Bold action, courage, and confidence. You manifestations are quickly by initiating new projects, relationships, or creative endeavors. You are spontaneous and assertive in your approach, making things happen through sheer willpower.  You go after what you want without hesitation, often using your natural leadership qualities to inspire others and create opportunities. You thrive in the chase and can manifest by taking risks and being adventurous.

Possessions & Power: You possess a magnetic, fiery energy that makes you stand out in any crowd. Your power lies in your ability to move forward fearlessly, often leading others through example.

Beauty: Dynamic, independent, and confident. Your beauty comes from your energy and assertiveness—people are drawn to your drive and boldness.

Taurus Venus

Manifesting Power: Patience, persistence, and sensuality. Venus in Taurus manifests through a slow but steady approach, believing in long-term growth and stability. You create abundance by building solid foundations. You attract things through your loyalty and consistency. Your manifesting methods include creating beauty and comfort around you—whether through your environment, food, or relationships. Venus in Taurus takes time to cultivate and grow things of value.

Possessions & Power: You possess a natural ability to attract wealth and security, both material and emotional. Your power lies in your ability to create comfort and stability in your own life and for those you love.

Beauty: Earthy, grounded, and sensual. Your beauty is calm and soothing, exuding elegance and grace. You appreciate beauty in the simple things and radiate a warm, welcoming presence.

Gemini Venus

Manifesting Power: Communication, wit, and adaptability. Venus in Gemini manifests through their intellectual curiosity and social connections. You attract by speaking your truth, expressing ideas, and building relationships.You manifest by engaging with others and using your words to connect and persuade. You thrive on variety and intellectual stimulation, so manifesting often involves learning new things, networking, or writing.

Possessions & Power: You possess an innate charm and intellectual power. Your strength lies in your ability to adapt to different situations and communicate effectively.

Beauty: Clever, youthful, and playful. Your beauty comes from your quick wit and social grace. You charm others with your curiosity and light-hearted nature, making them seem endlessly interesting.

Cancer Venus

Manifesting Power: You manifest through emotion, through deep knowing, through the love you pour into the world. When you nurture something—whether it’s a relationship, a dream, or a home—it flourishes. The universe rewards your care with abundance. You can manifest deep love, emotional security, and profound soul connections. You don’t chase—you attract by making people feel seen in ways they never have before. You create spaces where people feel safe, and in return, life nurtures you back.Your beauty is soft yet powerful, like the moon reflecting on water. Your presence lingers, wrapping people in a warmth they didn’t know they needed. You are unforgettable.

Leo Venus

Manifesting Power: Charisma, creativity, and confidence. Venus in Leo manifests through their radiant personality and creative expression. You attract attention by being bold, generous, and shining brightly in everything you do. You manifest by embracing your leadership qualities, expressing themselves boldly, and showing love openly. Your approach to manifestation is dramatic and passionate, often involving the creative arts or public recognition.

Possessions & Power: You possess natural authority and charm. Your power lies in your creativity and ability to inspire others through your self-expression.

Beauty: Magnificent, regal, and confident. Your beauty is bold and captivating, often exuding an air of royalty. You have a magnetic presence that commands attention without effort.

Virgo Venus

Manifesting Power: Precision, practicality, and service. Venus in Virgo manifests by focusing on details, organization, and improving the lives of others. You attract by being helpful, grounded, and practical. You manifest through hard work, dedication, and service to others. Your method involves creating order, improving systems, and paying attention to the small things that make a big difference.

Possessions & Power: You possess an analytical mind and an ability to refine and perfect things. Your power lies in your ability to improve and enhance everything you touch.

Beauty: Subtle, natural, and earthy. Your beauty is understated, found in your simplicity, cleanliness, and attention to detail. You radiate an inner calm and serenity.

Libra Venus

Manifesting Power: You manifest by creating harmony, by moving through life with grace, by embodying pure elegance. You don’t chase—people, money, love… they all come to you because of the beauty you bring into the world. You can manifest partnerships, luxury, and artistic success. The more beauty you cultivate around you, the more effortlessly abundance flows into your life.

Possessions & Power: You possess a natural ability to create peace and beauty around you. Your strength lies in your ability to create unity and bring people together.

Beauty: Graceful, elegant, and refined. Your beauty is sophisticated and alluring, often defined by your sense of style and charm. You have a naturally balanced, appealing appearance.Your beauty is effortless, refined, intoxicating. You have it, that unnameable thing that makes people want to be near you. Your energy is pure poetry.

Scorpio Venus

Manifesting Power: Intensity, transformation, and magnetism. Venus in Scorpio manifests through deep emotional connections and personal transformation. You attract by embracing your emotional power and embracing vulnerability. You manifest by diving into the depths of emotion and allowing your intense feelings to guide you. You often manifest through personal transformation, relationships, or by letting go of old emotional baggage. You can manifest transformation, profound love, and deep healing. You don’t just want something—you become it. And in that becoming, it comes to you.

Possessions & Power: You possess deep emotional wisdom and a transformative power that allows you to heal yourself and others. Your power lies in your ability to experience and overcome profound emotional challenges.

Beauty: Mysterious, intense, and magnetic. Your beauty is often associated with your depth and emotional intensity. People are drawn to your powerful presence and unspoken allure.

Sagittarius Venus

Manifesting Power:  You manifest by expanding your horizons, chasing the unknown, and trusting the universe to bring you exactly what you need. You are ruled by adventure, freedom, and belief—when you want something, you don’t worry about how it will happen. You know it will. You can manifest travel, excitement, wisdom, and lovers who challenge and inspire you. Your magic is in your faith—the more you trust in possibility, the more doors open for you. Life rewards your fearlessness with thrilling opportunities.

Possessions & Power: You possess an expansive, adventurous spirit that drives you  to seek knowledge and new experiences. Your power lies in their ability to inspire others and to create powerful life for yourself. : Saying yes to the unknown, believing in abundance, and always seeking the next great adventure.

Beauty: You often appear youthful and radiant, with an infectious energy. Your beauty is wild, untamed, and electric. People are drawn to your energy, your laughter, the way you make the world feel bigger. Your presence is an open road, full of endless adventure.

Capricorn Venus

Manifesting Power: Discipline, ambition, and practicality. Venus in Capricorn manifests by working hard, setting goals, and building solid foundations. You attract through your  determination and ability to create long-term success. You can manifest status, financial security, and deep, unshakable commitment. You don’t rush—because you know anything worth having requires time and patience.

Possessions & Power: You possess an innate ability to achieve material success and stability. Your power lies in your discipline, strategic thinking, and long-term planning.

Beauty: Classic, sophisticated, and timeless. Your beauty is refined, often with a sense of maturity and authority. Youexude elegance and can look effortlessly put together.

Aquarius Venus

Manifesting Power: Innovation, individuality, and idealism. Venus in Aquarius manifests through creativity, unconventional ideas, and progressive thinking. You attract by embracing uniqueness and pushing boundaries. You manifest by thinking outside the box and using your originality to create change. You attract people and opportunities that align with your ideals and vision for the future.

Possessions & Power: You possess the power of innovation and independence, often being ahead of your time. Your strength lies in your ability to see possibilities that others may miss.

Beauty: Eccentric, futuristic, and unconventional. Your beauty is often unique, defined by your originality and individualistic flair. You stand out by not conforming to traditional beauty standards.

Pisces Venus

Manifesting Power: Compassion, intuition, and spirituality. Venus in Pisces manifests through empathy, imagination, and emotional depth. You attract through your ability to dream and see the beauty in everything. You manifest by tuning into your intuition and dreams, often using creative outlets like art or music. Your manifesting process is subtle, often relying on your emotional connections and faith.

Possessions & Power: You possess an artistic soul and an ability to connect with others on a deep emotional level. Your power lies in your creativity and your ability to inspire with love and compassion.

Beauty: Ethereal, dreamy, and enchanting. Your beauty is otherworldly, often soft, fluid, and gentle. You radiate a serene, almost mystical charm that draws others to you.

-Rebekah🦋🌊🍓

[unsuperingyournatural]

pure blasphemy

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

dividers @saradika-graphics

realized I've never really seen the Indiana Jones movies and this materialized

You’ve survived premieres before, but this one feels different. Not because the crowd is bigger or the stakes are higher—but because Pedro is next to you.

Pedro, in his perfectly tailored dark suit, warm smile, and those damn glasses. The ones that always make your knees a little weaker than you care to admit. He adjusts them now with a ringed hand as the two of you step up to yet another reporter.

This one is a woman—bright-eyed, fast-talking, genuinely thrilled. “You both look incredible—congratulations on the premiere!” she says. “Pedro, let’s start with you. With all this space action in the film tonight, I have to ask… still feeling the Mandalorian love?”

Pedro grins, eyes twinkling behind his lenses. “Oh, definitely. Once you’ve worn Beskar, you don’t go back.”

You smother a smile, watching the familiar charisma switch on like a well-worn light. He’s always good with press—effortless, charming, that perfect blend of humble and cheeky.

“You grew up watching Star Wars, right?” the reporter asks.

“Oh yeah,” Pedro says. “My older sister was obsessed. Like, full-on encyclopedia-level obsessed. She knew every background character in Jabba’s palace. Every one.”

The reporter laughs. “And you?”

“I loved it too, obviously. But I was always more of an Indiana Jones kid. That was my thing.”

Then he turns toward you with that signature slow smile. “What about you?”

You raise your brows. “Me?”

He nods. “Yeah. What’s your pick?”

You hesitate half a second. “Star Wars.”

Pedro staggers back like he’s been mortally wounded. “No.”

The reporter grins, thrilled. “Uh oh. Looks like there might be trouble in paradise!”

You laugh, cheeks warming under the lights, as Pedro narrows his eyes like he’s solving a murder mystery.

“Star Wars over Indiana Jones?” he echoes, as if tasting something bitter. “ How could you? Okay. Let’s remove Star Wars from the conversation. If you had to pick a favorite Indiana Jones movie, which one would it be?”

You shift slightly, still smiling. “I’m not sure.”

He freezes. “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

You pause… then confess: “I’ve never seen one?”

He stares at you. Open-mouthed. Like the world just tilted sideways. He starts to say something. Stops. Recalculates. Then turns—without a word—and walks off.

“Oh no,” the reporter gasps, laughing. “I think you broke him.”

You glance toward Pedro. He’s already chatting with the next reporter, gesturing toward you. You can hear him clear as day: “She’s never seen Indiana Jones!”

You wince, laughing. “Guess I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, big trouble,” the reporter confirms. “That man is on a mission now.”

You’re still laughing when Pedro reappears and takes your hand like it’s just a thing he does.

“Excuse me,” he says to the woman in front of you, voice warm but firm. “Sorry, but we have a movie to go watch.”

The reporter smiles. “I know,” she says, gesturing around. “This one.”

Pedro shakes his head and adjusts his glasses. “No. We’re actually leaving right now. Gonna go back to the hotel to start an Indiana Jones marathon because this one—” he lifts your hand—“has somehow never seen any of them. Not even Raiders. And that’s just unacceptable.”

He looks at you with mock disappointment.

“Some movie fan you are.”

You smirk. “You just want to watch Harrison Ford throw a whip around.”

Pedro scoffs. “Don’t you dare reduce it to whip-throwing. There’s history. There’s adventure. There’s deep-rooted cinematic heritage.”

You hum. “There’s snakes I’ve heard.”

“Exactly!”

“You’re such a nerd.”

He snorts. “You say that like it’s not part of my charm.”

The reporter is cracking up. “You two are unbelievable.”

Pedro points dramatically at you with his free hand. “This isn’t over.”

“Was it ever?”

The reporter sighs happily. “Thank you both so much for the laughs—and best of luck tonight.”

“Thank you,” you both say as Pedro gently guides you forward, still hand-in-hand.

But before you make it to the next press stop, he tugs you aside—just for a second, just far enough that the next cameras can’t catch your expressions. His head dips closer to yours, his voice lower now, warmer.

“I cannot believe you’ve never seen Indiana Jones,” he murmurs. “That’s like… a must for anyone in my life. How’d you even get through?”

You shrug, a little coy. “Lack of proper vetting? That question wasn’t on the Pedro Pascal hangout application.”

Pedro tilts his head, studying your face like he’s memorizing it for later. Then his lips curve.

“…It should be.”

Your breath catches—just slightly, just enough. The way he’s looking at you makes the noise and lights and bustle of the carpet feel very far away.

“Add it to the list,” you murmur.

“I’m going to.” His thumb brushes the back of your hand—once, slow. “Right at the top.”

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to. You both stand there a moment longer, caught in something soft and private, and then—

A voice calls your names for the next interview, and Pedro finally straightens, all charm again. But as he turns, his hand tightens around yours, and his smile—the one he flashes before stepping back into the spotlight—is just for you.

An hour later, after ducking out of the premiere early with barely an excuse, the hotel suite is quiet, save for the low hum of the TV and the faint pop of corn in the microwave., save for the low hum of the TV and the faint pop of corn in the microwave. Pedro has already ditched the suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt—the glasses still on, because, as he says, "You need full clarity for something this sacred."

You’re curled up on the couch, bare feet tucked beneath you, a hotel robe wrapped around your premiere dress like a compromise between glamour and comfort. Pedro paces in front of the TV like he’s preparing to give a lecture.

“Okay,” he says, remote in hand. “We’re starting with Raiders of the Lost Ark, obviously. Because if we start with Temple of Doom, you might not forgive me.”

You grin. “I feel like that was a dig, but okay.”

“It wasn’t. It was a protective choice.” He glances at you, expression suddenly soft. “You sure you’re not too tired?”

“I’m good. As long as you promise not to quiz me after.”

“No promises,” he says, hitting play.

The iconic Paramount mountain fades into a jungle, and Pedro sits beside you, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap, eyes locked on the screen like he’s watching it for the first time. Every so often, he glances at you to catch your reactions—that little smile of his tugging higher when you jump at the boulder scene, or mutter “Gross” when the snakes appear. At one point, when Indy dodges a poison dart by mere inches, Pedro throws a triumphant fist in the air, whisper-shouting, "Classic!" like a kid seeing his hero in action. Later, he throws a few pieces of popcorn dramatically during a tense standoff scene, narrating in a faux-deep voice: "This is where it gets real serious." You snort, stealing one of the kernels that landed in your lap and tossing it back at him.

“So,” you whisper halfway through, careful not to interrupt too much. “This is like, peak Harrison Ford?”

Pedro turns slowly, eyes wide. “Like? Like?”

You hold up your hands. “Okay! Is. Peak Harrison Ford. Damn.”

He nods solemnly. “That’s better.”

Eventually, somewhere between melting Nazi faces and Indy rescuing Marion—right after Pedro quietly mouths the line "It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage" with such pride it makes you laugh—your head drifts toward Pedro’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything—just shifts slightly to make more room, the popcorn bowl moved to the side table in one smooth motion.

You feel his hand find yours under the blanket, fingers tangling without any effort at all.

When the credits roll, you’re still leaning on him, and he glances down to find your eyes half-closed.

“Hey,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Don’t fall asleep before Temple of Doom.”

You hum. “I thought you said we weren’t starting with that one.”

“We’re not. I’m just buying time to watch you fall asleep on me.”

You crack one eye open, lazy and fond. “You’re still a nerd.”

He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. “And you still picked Star Wars over Indy.”

“Guess we’re both disasters in our own way,” you murmur, your voice already fading.

“Speak for yourself,” he teases softly. “I’m an educational resource.”

You manage a tired smile as he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

The second movie never makes it off the menu screen.

You both fall asleep like that—his arm around you, your cheek on his chest, popcorn forgotten, glasses still on.

And for the first time all evening, the quiet settles between you not as silence—but as comfort, the kind that says nothing needs to be said to be understood.

The room glows in the soft flicker of the paused TV, and as you drift off, you hear him murmur quietly into your hair:

“We’ll finish your film education tomorrow. For now… let’s call this an intermission—with you snoring and me pretending not to like it.

“Shut up,” you murmur, barely awake. “Don’t snore.”

A few minutes later, you do. Softly. Gently. Just enough to make Pedro smile in the dark.

He shifts just enough to pull you closer, his breath warm against your temple as he finally lets himself drift off too.