A/N: I HAVE NOT DIED, I PROMISE. Work has been sucking the life out of me sobsss and all I've had the energy for lately is binging shoujo anime and playing Love and Deepspace. I swear I'll get back to By Order of the Black Pirates once I gather enough strength, but for now, here's a little something inspired by the shoujo animes I've been watching lately.
ATEEZ MASTERLIST
Hongjoong ↠ Noah Wynknight (Why Raeliana Ended Up at the Duke's Mansion)
You never imagined that survival could look this beautiful.
The moon hung low over the still waters of the royal lake, and soft lanterns floated alongside your boat, their reflections flickering like fireflies. The world was hushed except for the rhythmic dip of oars and the faint laughter of the nobles celebrating on the distant shore.
This was supposed to be a negotiation.
A calculated arrangement between two people bound by convenience, not affection.
But nothing about Duke Kim Hongjoong ever went the way you planned.
The lake shimmered under a thousand lights. Fireworks burst across the night sky in cascades of crimson and gold, their reflections rippling through the dark water like fleeting dreams.
You sat across from him, the man who was both your saviour and your most dangerous gamble.
It had all started as a contract, a carefully constructed deal between desperation and power. You'd been reincarnated into a novel you once read, trapped in the life of Raeliana McMillan, a supporting character fated to die by her fiancé's hand. But this time, you refused to die quietly.
Armed with the knowledge of the story's future, you sought out the Duke — the male lead destined to marry the heroine, Beatrice — and offered him a trade: information about the missing Royal Seal in exchange for protection.
He agreed.
And so, you became the Duke's fiancée—in name only.
But somewhere between staged glances and shared secrets, the act began to feel dangerously real.
The two of you drifted in silence after the official announcement of your 'fake' engagement, the gentle motion of the boat rocking beneath the shimmering canopy of fireworks.
Hongjoong sat poised and quiet, hands resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the glowing horizon. His expression was composed, but his gaze kept drifting to you, as though trying to memorise how the firelight painted your face.
Finally, he broke the silence, voice low and measured. "Stay… stay by my side… until you have no further use of me."
The oars slowed, the lake stilled. His words settled over the water like mist, soft but heavy.
Your chest tightened. Until I have no further use for him.
It was supposed to be just a contract, a mutual understanding. But somehow, your heart didn't seem to understand the limits you'd set.
You met his eyes, the world briefly shrinking to the quiet space between you. "Hongjoong…" you said softly. "Have you ever loved anyone before?"
He froze, not at the question, but at the sound of your voice when you said his name like that.
Then, almost too quietly, he replied, "No."
You smiled faintly, though your heart ached in your chest. The words came before you could stop them — tender, foolish, and truer than you wanted to admit. "Well, even so… even so, I think you'll end up loving someone someday."
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Hongjoong's eyes widened slightly, as if the thought itself had caught him off guard. His breath hitched, just enough to betray him, and for that single suspended moment, he couldn't take his eyes off you.
It's her, he thought, the realisation dawning like the fireworks above. She's the one I'll love.
You turned away then, gazing up at the bursting lights that painted the sky in violet and gold. "Pretty…" you murmured under your breath, eyes soft with quiet wonder.
Hongjoong didn't answer. He only looked at you, the curve of your smile, the way the glow of the fireworks reflected in your eyes, and silently agreed. Pretty, he thought. But not as much as you.
Another firework bloomed overhead, scattering petals of light across his face. In that fleeting glow, you could almost believe that the world was simple, that this wasn't a fragile illusion built on deceit and borrowed time.
But when the light faded, only the quiet lapping of the water remained. He looked away first, trying to compose the emotion threatening to break through his calm. "Perhaps," he murmured, more to himself than to you.
And as the boat continued its slow drift beneath the starlit sky, you both pretended not to notice how his words — stay by my side — sounded far too much like a plea.
Seonghwa ↠ Kiyoka Kudou (My Happy Marriage)
Born into cruelty and married to a man feared by many, you expected only silence and distance. Yet with Park Seonghwa, kindness began to feel possible again.
You never expected it to feel this disarming.
The morning air carried the scent of rain-washed earth and blooming hydrangeas when your husband invited you to join him in town.
You almost thought you'd misheard.
Days in his household had taught you silence, careful steps, and the art of invisibility. You'd long grown used to blending into the corners of rooms, apologising before anyone even raised their voice. So when he asked, simply and earnestly — "Would you like to come to town with me today?" — the words felt like sunlight spilling through a long-closed window.
You hesitated, fingers tightening on the hem of your sleeve. "M-me? Are you sure?"
His lips curved faintly, the kind of smile that never seemed forced, only quiet and deliberate. "Of course. I'd like your company."
And so, you went.
When he invited you to accompany him to town on his day off, you thought it was just another errand. But the day unfolded like something out of a dream; new kimonos carefully chosen just for you, sweets shared under the hum of city chatter, and his quiet patience each time your awe slowed your steps.
Every small gesture chipped away at the walls you'd built to survive.
As the afternoon waned, the two of you paused at a quiet bridge overlooking the stream. The water caught the golden hues of the setting sun, casting a warm, hazy light over the world.
"I'm sorry," you said suddenly, breaking the silence. "For slowing you down… I got distracted earlier. I must have been a nuisance."
Seonghwa stopped walking.
When he turned to you, his expression wasn't stern, nor was it indulgent; it was something gentler, deeper. "You are never a nuisance to me," he said, voice low and unwavering.
Then, with surprising tenderness, he reached out and placed his hand atop your head, not heavy, not patronising, but reassuring. The touch startled you, yet it felt… safe.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The sound of the stream and the whisper of wind through the trees filled the space where your words faltered. You found yourself wondering — how could anyone ever think this man cruel?
By the time you returned home, the sun had dipped low, staining the sky in shades of amber and rose. Just as you were about to retreat to your room, Seonghwa called your name.
You turned, and there, in his hand, was a small parcel wrapped in soft cloth. "For you," he said simply.
Inside was a wooden comb, delicately carved with a pattern of blooming cherry blossoms. You stared at it, wide-eyed. "It's beautiful… but I can't possibly—"
"Don't," he interrupted gently, his voice calm but firm. "It's not something to repay. It's something to keep." He paused then, as if weighing his next words, before meeting your gaze. "A gift should never feel like a burden."
You nodded, unable to speak past the warmth rising in your chest.
Later that night, as you sat by the window brushing your hair with the comb, the memory of his touch — the gentle hand on your head, the softness in his eyes — replayed in your mind again and again. And though you told yourself it was just gratitude, you couldn't help but smile. Suddenly, the future didn't feel so cold.
The manor was quiet when he returned to his study. Only the lantern's soft crackle filled the space, yet his thoughts refused to rest.
He found himself replaying the bridge — your hesitant apology, the way your eyes dropped, expecting reproach. And the moment he'd reached out, resting his hand gently atop your head. He'd meant only to reassure you… yet the warmth that lingered afterwards unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
His gaze drifted to the small paper on his desk, the receipt for the comb he'd given you. It wasn't much, but the way you'd looked at it, as though it were something precious, had left a strange ache in his chest. "She deserves gentleness," he murmured quietly.
The words surprised him. He'd long believed himself too cold, too disciplined for tenderness. But today, watching you smile, he'd realised how much he wanted to protect that fragile light.
Outside, the wind rustled softly through the trees, carrying the faint echo of your laughter, the sound that refused to leave his mind.
And for the first time in a long while, Commander Park didn't mind the silence that followed.
Yunho ↠ Hak (Yona of the Dawn)
Once, you lived a life of silks and sunlight, a sheltered princess with no reason to fear the world beyond the palace gates. But everything changed the night you witnessed betrayal take the throne.
Your cousin, Suwon, the man you'd once trusted, drove his blade into your father's heart. In that single moment, your world collapsed into blood and silence.
And when the guards came for you, to erase the last witness, it was Jung Yunho, your father's most loyal general, who stood between you and death.
Steel clashed in the torchlight as his spear swept through the advancing soldiers. His movements were sharp, decisive — every strike a promise that he would not let them touch you.
"Run!" he barked, but his body never moved far from yours. Even as you stumbled, trembling, he was there, deflecting an arrow, blocking a blade, pulling you close before the next attack could land.
The courtyard burned behind you, a storm of shouts and steel. A servant's arrow whistled through the chaos, striking a guard's torch and scattering fire across the ground — just enough distraction for Yunho to grab your hand.
"Hold on," he muttered, voice tight with urgency.
You barely had time to breathe before the world blurred. He vaulted you onto his back, the night wind cutting past your face as he sprinted down the hidden path beneath the cliffs. You clung to him, fingers gripping his torn cloak, feeling the tremor of his muscles with every desperate step.
When at last the forest swallowed you both, Yunho slowed, his breath ragged, his body slick with rain and blood. Yet when he turned, his eyes were steady, fierce and unbroken. "As long as I'm alive," he said quietly, "they'll never find you."
You wanted to tell him to rest, that he didn't have to give up everything for you. But the words caught in your throat when you saw his expression — the resolve, the pain, and something softer beneath it all.
By the time he finally stopped, dawn was still hours away. The forest had grown still around you, the only sound the whisper of the wind through the leaves and the faint crackle of the campfire he'd managed to build.
He sat with his back against a fallen log, cloak discarded, breath still unsteady from the run. In the firelight, you could see the faint streaks of blood along his arm, not all of it his own. "Hold still," you murmured, crawling closer with trembling hands. "You're hurt."
Yunho gave a low chuckle that sounded more like a sigh. "You should rest. You've been through enough."
"So have you," you said softly, tearing a strip from your sleeve and reaching for him before he could argue.
He blinked, surprised, but didn't pull away. The firelight made his eyes look warmer than you'd ever seen them, steady, unguarded. "You know, princess," he said after a beat, tone lighter but faintly teasing, "you've gotten awfully bold since we left the palace."
You scowled at him, pressing the cloth against a cut on his jaw. "Maybe because someone keeps getting hurt protecting me."
He laughed quietly, the sound low, rough, and too gentle for someone who'd just fought for his life. "I'd do it again," he said simply.
The words lingered in the air, soft but heavy.
You looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice, by the quiet way his gaze held yours. And for the first time since the night began, the fear in your chest eased, replaced by something you couldn't quite name.
After a long silence, you whispered, "You shouldn't have stayed for me. You could've died back there."
Yunho shook his head slowly, eyes on the flames. "Leaving you wasn't an option."
You swallowed hard, your throat tight with unspoken emotion. The fire crackled between you, scattering sparks into the cool night air. When you finally tied the last bandage, he reached out, catching your wrist in his calloused hand. "You did good," he murmured, voice low. "You're stronger than you think."
You wanted to deny it, to say you weren't, but the warmth in his voice stopped you. Instead, you sat beside him, letting the quiet settle over you both.
Minutes slipped by, the fire slowly burning down to embers.
"Get some sleep," he said at last, his voice gentle again. "I'll keep watch."
And though exhaustion pulled at your body, you hesitated, your heart unwilling to let go of the fragile peace between you. Still, when you finally leaned back, eyes fluttering shut, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against your hair, a silent reassurance.
As you drifted into sleep, you heard him whisper, almost to himself, "I'll protect you. Even if it costs me everything."
Yeosang ↠ Arnold Hein (7th Time Loop: The Villainess Enjoys a Carefree Life Married to Her Worst Enemy!)
Your story had always ended in tragedy.
No matter what choices you made or how hard you tried to change the outcome, your life always ended the same way, at the hands of Prince Kang Yeosang.
Reborn six times already, you knew this pattern well. But in your seventh life, when your engagement was once again broken and fate reset the clock, you made a daring choice.
Instead of running from him, you decided to face him. And when he offered his hand, the same hand that once killed you, you took it.
At first, it was only a contract. A clever deal between two people who trusted neither fate nor each other.
He had proposed with eyes that hid too much, his words sharp and deliberate. "Marry me. If nothing else, I promise you won't be bored."
You had agreed with equal bite. "Then don't disappoint me, Your Highness."
But somewhere between sparring in the training yard and exchanging quiet glances in the palace gardens, the edges began to soften. You learned the weight behind his silence, the reason for the ache in his gaze. He learned that your laughter—rare, but real—had the power to still the chaos in his mind.
And when the battle left him wounded, when blood stained the same hands that once took your life, you were the one who reached for him first. You pressed a trembling cloth to his side, whispering, "You don't have to face everything alone."
That night, something in him broke, and something in you bloomed.
So when the war ended, and you found him again beneath the silver light of the fortress balcony, it wasn't fear that filled your chest anymore. It was hope.
The moon hung low over the fortress, silver light spilling through the torn curtains. The war was over, at least for tonight.
Yeosang stood at the balcony, his uniform torn, the faintest trace of blood staining his collar. You approached quietly, your heart caught somewhere between dread and relief "Your Highness," you said softly.
He turned slightly, his expression guarded yet softer than before. "You shouldn't be here."
You hesitated. "You always say that."
A faint, humourless smile touched his lips. "And you never listen."
You took a step closer, close enough to see the exhaustion carved into his face. "Because I've learned something after six lives of running from you."
His eyes met yours, uncertain. "And what is that?"
"That no matter how many times the world resets, I always end up here. With you."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between you, fragile, electric. He looked away first. "You shouldn't have chosen me."
"Maybe not," you admitted, stepping closer. "But I did. And now I see you for who you are, not a monster, not a murderer. Just a man who's been trying to end his own story before it can begin again."
Yeosang's composure wavered, a rare crack in the ice. "If I could rewrite fate, I'd never touch you again."
You reached for his hand, fingers brushing against the calluses that once frightened you. "Then rewrite it with me."
He looked at you then, truly looked — as if seeing not the woman doomed to die by his hand, but the one who had always returned to him anyway. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "You're a fool."
"Then let me be your fool," you whispered.
When he kissed you, it wasn't to erase the past; it was to promise a future neither of you had ever dared to hope for. For the first time in seven lives, your story did not end in tragedy.
It began anew, with him.
San ↠ Challe Fen Challe (Sugar Apple Fairy Tale)
You're a candy crafter determined to follow in your mother's footsteps and become a Silver Sugar Master, a title bestowed only by royalty. To travel to the capital and realise your dream, you purchase Choi San, a handsome but foul-mouthed warrior fairy, as your bodyguard. You wish to befriend your new companion, but in this kingdom, where fairies are treated as property upon possession of one of their wings, San wants nothing to do with humans.
At first, your relationship is one of defiance and distance — two souls bound by circumstance. He refuses to obey you, and you refuse to treat him like a slave. Yet somewhere between bickering over orders, surviving bandit attacks, and late nights spent shaping sugar into fragile, gleaming forms, something begins to change.
He protects you even when he swears he won't. You listen even when he stays silent.
And when the day finally comes that you stand before him, his wing, delicate and luminous, resting in your palms, your throat tightens with words you don't know how to say. "This is yours," you whisper, holding it out to him. "I'm setting you free."
For a long moment, he doesn't move. The air between you feels heavier than it should, as if the night itself is holding its breath.
When San finally reaches for his wing, his fingers brush yours; warm, trembling. "You're freeing me," he says softly, "and yet… I've never felt more bound to you."
Your chest aches at the sound of it, at the quiet sorrow beneath his calm. When his wing returns to its place, a faint glow ripples across his back, proof that the bond is gone. That he's no longer yours.
You smile anyway, even as tears sting your eyes. "Then go. Be free."
He hesitates, just for a heartbeat, before turning away. But the memory of that moment, of his eyes lingering on yours, stays with you long after he's gone.
The night you find him again, under a sky strung with stars and sugar-sweet air, you're the one left speechless this time.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," San says quietly, stepping closer. "Humans are fragile."
"And fairies are cruel," you reply, smiling faintly, but he doesn't flinch the way he once did.
"You gave me back my freedom," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "But I never felt free until I met you."
He brushes a stray sugar crystal from your hair, his touch feather-light. "You once told me you make sweets to make people smile. You never realised… you were the sweetest thing in my world."
The confession lingers, fragile as spun sugar; shimmering, fleeting, impossibly sincere.
"You once gave me back my freedom," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. "Now I'm giving you my heart… because this time, it's mine to give."
And under the soft glow of moonlight, when he finally kisses you — gently, reverently — it tastes like the ending of one promise and the beginning of another.
Later that night, when the lanterns had burned low and your laughter had faded into the soft hum of the fields, the warrior fairy stood alone beneath the moonlight. The wind stirred faintly against his wings, whole now, untethered, and yet, for the first time, freedom didn't feel like flight. It felt like standing still, because you were no longer beside him.
He touched the spot where his wing had once been kept, the place that had once meant captivity. Now, it only reminded him of your hands, the way they had trembled when you returned it to him. The way your voice had broken when you said, "I'm setting you free."
He'd meant it when he told you he'd never felt more bound. Because what he couldn't explain then, what he could barely understand himself, was that love had become the gentlest chain of all.
The moonlight caught the edge of his blade, the faint shimmer of sugar dust still clinging to the hilt. He exhaled, eyes softening. "You were always too kind for this world," he murmured, almost smiling. "And still, you gave me mine back."
For a long moment, he simply stood there — a fairy no longer owned, a man still learning how to belong. Then, quietly, he whispered into the night, "If freedom means walking toward you again... then I'll choose it, every time."
And somewhere in the distance, carried on the cool night air, he swore he could still taste sugar on the wind.
Mingi ↠ Akito Yamada (My Love Story with Yamada-kun at Lv999)
You hadn't expected heartbreak to lead you here, not to an online world of pixelated forests, guild quests, and late-night raids, and certainly not to Song Mingi.
After your ex left you, you kept playing Forest of Saviour, the game you once shared with him, out of habit more than hope — logging in felt easier than moving on. But one evening at an offline event, amid the clatter of keyboards and the hum of strangers, you met him: quiet, sharp-eyed, and effortlessly distant. Mingi, the guild's most stoic player.
What started as awkward guild chats soon turned into quiet companionship, helping each other through boss battles, trading healing potions, and staying online long after everyone else had logged off. He wasn't easy to read, not even close, but somehow, in the long silences and small exchanges, you found something comforting in his presence.
And before you realised it, the game stopped being an escape. It became the place you went to find him.
The summer festival was supposed to be just another guild meetup, but somehow, it ended up as just the two of you, wandering through a sea of lights and laughter, the world bathed in gold from hanging lanterns and bursts of fireworks overhead.
Mingi stood beside you, calm and composed as ever, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. The colours from the fireworks danced across his face, softening his usual coolness into something almost tender.
"Do you… come to festivals often?" you asked, trying to sound casual.
He shook his head. "Not really. Too many people."
You smiled faintly. "Then why'd you come tonight?"
He looked at you, really looked at you, before answering simply, "You said you wanted to go."
The words hit harder than they should have. Simple, steady, honest. So very him. The air between you buzzed with something fragile and new as another firework split the sky. Then, softly, he said your name. "When I first met you… I didn't think much of it." His voice was low, almost lost beneath the noise of the festival. "But now—" He paused, exhaling slowly. "Now, when you log off, the world feels quieter."
Your pulse stumbled.
He turned toward you, eyes catching the light. "When I'm with you, even silence feels like something I don't want to end."
You didn't speak. You just let the warmth of his words settle in your chest, let the moment stretch between you as your hands brushed — shyly, hesitantly, as if the smallest touch might shatter the illusion.
And when you whispered, "Then let's stay like this a bit longer," he nodded, expression unreadable but eyes impossibly gentle.
As Mingi sat in his room that night, the soft glow of his monitor cast silver light across his face. Your in-game avatar stood idle beside his on-screen, the fireworks event still playing in the background.
He stared at the faint sparkle animation above your character's head, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, not typing.
In the quiet hum of his computer, he thought of your laughter at the festival, the way you tilted your head when you smiled, the warmth in your voice when you said his name.
It was strange, he thought. He used to like silence because it meant peace. Now, he only liked it when you were in it.
The game chimed softly — a new message from you: "Got home safe :) thanks for today."
He smiled, small, genuine, before typing back, "Good. See you tomorrow."
And as your digital avatar disappeared from the screen, he leaned back in his chair, the faint sound of fireworks still echoing in his mind.
For the first time, he didn't feel like he was playing alone anymore.
Wooyoung ↠ Itsuomi Nagi (A Sign of Affection)
The world had always been quiet for a deaf person like you — not lonely, but still. You lived in the hush between sounds, in the gentle rhythm of signs and glances, where silence could be soft instead of empty.
Then came Jung Wooyoung, a traveller whose voice carried stories of cities you'd never seen, languages you'd never heard, and yet, when he spoke to you, he never made you feel small for not hearing them.
It happened when the train rattled softly as it sped through the city, a blur of lights and faces, all too fast, too bright. You stood near the doors, hands clutching your bag, when a tall foreigner suddenly turned toward you, holding up a map and saying something in a language you didn't understand.
His lips moved quickly, maybe asking for directions, but you froze, trying and failing to piece the words together. Panic prickled at the back of your neck. The vibration of the train, the movement, the stares — it all blurred together.
And then someone stepped forward. "He's asking how to get to Myeongdong," Wooyoung said, his tone calm and warm as he pointed out the stops on the man's map.
You watched, relief softening your chest as he explained everything effortlessly, his gestures smooth, his smile reassuring. When the foreigner finally thanked him and moved away, Wooyoung turned to you. "You okay?" he asked, lips moving carefully — slower this time, as if he already knew you needed the space to read them.
You nodded, cheeks warm. He just smiled again, patient and gentle, before typing something on his phone and showing it to you. "Can I sit here?"
That was how you met.
You didn't expect to see him again.
But a week later, you caught sight of him on campus, the same warm eyes, the same easy calm, laughing with a group of exchange students near the courtyard fountain.
You froze mid-step. You'd never imagined that the kind stranger from the train would be standing beneath the cherry trees of your own college, sunlight catching in his hair like spun gold.
He noticed you before you could look away. His face lit up, the same smile that felt like spring after a long winter, and he jogged over, signing a quick, familiar hi. "So we go to the same school," his lips moved slowly for the ease of your reading. "Guess fate has good timing."
You tried not to smile too wide, and failed completely.
Weeks turned into months. The two of you shared coffee between lectures, notes written half in words, half in drawings and little scribbles. He began learning sign language, at first clumsy, then gradually graceful, and every time he got a sign wrong, you laughed until you couldn't breathe.
He always looked at you like he wanted to memorise the sound of your quiet laughter.
Then came the day he left.
"Just a short trip," he'd signed, his expression soft. "A few weeks abroad. I'll bring you something back."
You'd smiled, trying not to show the ache curling quietly in your chest. You waved as he disappeared into the crowd — and for a while, life returned to its quiet rhythm.
Until he came back.
It was late afternoon when you saw him again, the same station where you'd first met, the sun slanting gold through the glass and the air humming with the rush of trains.
You almost didn't believe it was him at first — until he turned, suitcase in hand, eyes lighting up the instant they found yours.
You waved, heart pounding. He crossed the platform in a few easy strides, rain from the earlier shower still glinting on his hair. "You're really back," you signed, grinning.
He nodded, smiling in that easy way that always made your chest ache.
For a moment, you just stood there — the noise of the crowd fading to a quiet hum around you. Then, you pointed toward the railing nearby. Sit there, you signed, motioning.
Wooyoung tilted his head, a curious half-smile on his lips, but obeyed without question, setting his bag down and perching on the metal railing. You stepped closer, hesitating only for a heartbeat before closing your eyes — the unspoken gesture clear.
You were expecting his arms, the familiar warmth of a hug after all this time apart.
Instead, he leaned in.
The kiss was soft, so gentle it almost felt like a question. The world went still, the rhythm of the trains fading until there was only the warmth of him, the brush of his lips against yours, the quiet thud of your heart.
When you opened your eyes, he was smiling — that small, lopsided smile that always gave him away. "I missed you," he said quietly, his voice almost lost to the noise around you.
Flustered, you laughed, your hands signing before you could stop them. "That wasn't a hug.”
He grinned wider, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You didn't seem to mind."
The laugh that escaped you then was pure, light — the kind that made people turn and smile without knowing why.
And as the train rolled past behind you, the wind carrying the scent of rain and metal and something inexplicably sweet, you realised the truth of it: Love didn't need words. It only needed him; steady, patient, and always there, even in the quiet.
Jongho ↠ Zen Wistaria (Snow White with the Red Hair)
In the kingdom of Clarines, you were a young herbalist with striking red hair, fleeing your homeland after catching the unwanted attention of a prince who demanded you as his concubine. On the run and searching for a new beginning, you cross paths with Prince Choi Jongho, a second prince known for his humility, integrity, and strength.
What begins as a chance encounter in a castle garden slowly blooms into something deeper — a story of quiet trust, mutual respect, and love that refuses to be rushed.
You first met him among the moonlit gardens of Wistal Castle. You'd climbed the stone wall in desperation, heart pounding, carrying only your satchel and your resolve. When you landed in a bed of herbs, startled by a voice behind you, he was standing there — dark-haired in the lantern glow, sword at his side, yet smiling softly. "If you have nowhere else to go," Jongho said, voice calm but kind, "then stay here. At least until you find your path again."
That night, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe.
Later, there was the poisoned apple. You'd been foolish, trusting a gift left on your doorstep, only to realise too late that it was meant to harm you. But Jongho had seen, and without hesitation, he'd bitten into it first, eyes steady even as the poison took hold.
"Better me than you," he'd managed to whisper before collapsing.
You remembered trembling beside him as the antidote took hours to work, his skin pale, his breathing shallow, and realising just how deeply his quiet devotion ran. It wasn't born of duty. It was love, steadfast and unspoken.
Weeks passed. Whispers followed you both, the herbalist and the prince, but Jongho never let them sway him. He treated you as an equal, never as someone fragile to protect, but someone strong to stand beside.
Which is how you found yourselves here now — on the balcony outside his chambers, long after the palace had gone to sleep.
The night air was cool, brushing your cheeks softly. Below, the gardens you once stumbled into glowed faintly in the moonlight. Jongho leaned against the railing beside you, arms crossed, gaze tilted toward the stars.
"Do you ever regret it?" you asked quietly. "Letting someone like me into your world?"
He turned at that, his eyes gentle but unwavering. "If anything," he said, "you've made it brighter."
You smiled faintly, unsure what to say, but he wasn't finished. "You changed how I see things. I used to think my duty as a prince was to protect, to stand between people and the danger that sought them. But you…"
He paused, searching for the right words.
"You taught me that strength isn't just in a sword. It's in kindness. In choosing someone again and again, even when the world makes it hard."
Your breath caught. The way he looked at you, steady and sure, as if the rest of the world had fallen away, made your heart ache. You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. So instead, you reached for his hand.
He didn't hesitate. His fingers curled around yours, warm and sure. "Whatever path you choose," he murmured, "I'll walk beside you. Always."
And in that moment, under the quiet sweep of starlight, it felt less like a confession and more like a vow, one written not in grand gestures, but in the quiet constancy of someone who meant every word.
When dawn came, you found him still awake, sitting by the balcony rail, two cups of tea steaming gently between you. The sunrise painted his hair in shades of gold, and when he handed you your cup, his smile was soft, the kind that made you think of home.
"Sleep," you mumbled, voice still drowsy. "You've been up all night."
He chuckled, low and fond. "Couldn't," he said. "Didn't want to miss this." You blinked at him, puzzled, until he added, almost shyly, "You. Here. The morning light. It feels… peaceful."
Your chest warmed. You looked out toward the garden below, the herbs swaying in the wind — the place where it all began. And for once, you didn't worry about what came next. Because as long as he was beside you, the story would never have to end.
EHEHE did y'all see what I did with Seonghwa's part? Iykyk ;)) anywayyy, have any of you watched any of these animes and absolutely adore them the way I do? Istg, they raised my standards so high, I'll never find anyone atp lmaooo
As always, hope y'all enjoyed this! Thank you for reading, and let me know your thoughts! <3
다니 ⠀⦂ despite the whole okokok & lalala trend is over .. i wanted to write this for a while hehe (> <) also creds to juni for helping me think of jay's
LEE HEESEUNG
"heeseung," you sing-song, practically bouncing as you cup his face, pressing kiss after kiss to his cheeks, his nose, his jaw—wherever your lips can reach. your giggles fill the space, but he just stares at you, unreadable. no smile, no reaction, just his dark eyes tracing every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize you. to anyone else, he looks a little… done. maybe even annoyed to a random person. but you know better. “come on, you love my kisses,” you tease. silence. his gaze stays locked onto you, unwavering. “fine,” you huff dramatically, pulling back. “i won’t kiss you then.” but before you can even move an inch away, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “no,” he says, finally, voice low. “keep going.” and oh—he's so cute.
PARK JAY
"baby!!" you gasp, eyes lighting up as you pull the sleek shopping bag from his hands, practically bouncing on your feet. “you got me the bag? the one i was just looking at?” your voice is all bubbly excitement, and jay just shrugs, hands in his pockets, acting like it’s nothing. “looked good on you,” he mutters, watching the way your fingers trace over the leather, the way that fond little smile tugs at your lips. he never says much when he buys you things, just casual, offhand comments like, figured you’d like it or why wouldn’t i? but the way he watches you, quietly, tells you everything. “jay, you spoil me too much,” you tease, tilting your head at him. he only raises a brow, pretending to think. “well, i could return it…” “no—jay!” you whine, and he smirks. yeah. he loves this.
SIM JAKE
"jake," you whine, dragging out his name as you slump onto the table, batting your lashes up at him. “this is so boring. can’t we take a break and go out?” but jake, ever the focused one, just gives you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “princess, we’ve barely started.” his hand moves to tap your workbook, firm but gentle. “come on, just one more section.” you huff, pouting dramatically, and when he doesn’t budge, you resort to drastic measures—leaning in, wrapping your arms around his neck, peppering soft kisses along his jaw. “please, jake? for me?” for a second, he falters, breath hitching, but then he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs. but when you start to close the book, he catches your wrist. “after this chapter.” a beat. “...maybe.” and just like that, he’s got you right where he wants you.
PARK SUNGHOON
sunghoon sits beside you, one arm lazily draped around your shoulders as you excitedly ramble about something that happened earlier. he nods along, murmuring soft “mhm”s and “okay, baby”s, completely content just listening to you. his fingers trace random shapes on your arm. mid-sentence, you suddenly cup his face and press a quick, glossy kiss to his lips, leaving behind a faint pink stain. his eyes flutter open in surprise, and he blinks at you before touching his lips. “baby…” he groans, but there’s no real complaint in his voice, only fondness. you giggle, admiring the way his pout deepens, and he sighs before leaning in to kiss you again, just for him to prove that no matter what, he’s always yours. he pulls away with a tiny smirk. “you’re lucky i love you.”
KIM SUNOO
you’re mid-sentence, laughing at something dumb your friend just said, when sunoo’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers drumming absentmindedly against your hip. he’s been quiet for the past five minutes, just sipping his drink and side-eyeing the person you’re talking to like he’s mentally running an evaluation. “are you jealous?” you tease, turning to face him. he scoffs, feigning nonchalance, but his grip only firms. “pfft. no.” you hum, unconvinced, and lean in a little, just to see him squirm. instead, he tugs you closer until your side is flush against his, chin resting on your shoulder. “you don’t have to smile at people like that, you know,” he murmurs. you laugh, poking his cheek. “sunoo, it’s called being friendly.” “mhm,” he hums, still not letting go. “be friendly with me, then.”
YANG JUNGWON
“wonnie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you tug on his sleeve. “i’m so thirsty, but i’m, like, physically incapable of getting up right now.” you dramatically slump against him, batting your lashes. jungwon side-eyes you, unimpressed. “you literally just ran across the room to show me a photo.” “okay but that was important,” you huff. “this is a crisis.” he exhales, shaking his head, but he’s already standing up. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, grabbing your water bottle. you grin, watching him with sparkly eyes. “my hot handsome hero,” you sigh dreamily when he hands it to you, fingers brushing his. jungwon just rolls his eyes, flopping back down. “so exhausting.” you giggle, immediately leaning into his side. “love you.” he clicks his tongue but lets you cling to him anyway, mumbling, “yeah, yeah. whatever, princess.”
NISHIMURA RIKI
“told you you were tired,” riki hums, fingers lazily threading through your hair as your head gets heavier on his lap. you stir, barely opening your eyes, mumbling, “m’not tired…” but the way your words slur together betrays you completely. he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah? then why are you literally passing out right now?” you whine softly, and his hand instinctively settles on your back. “i said go to sleep, baby,” he murmurs, voice softer now, teasing but sweet. you grumble something incoherent, pressing your cheek against his hoodie, and he swears you’re out before he can even make fun of you again. riki stays still, resisting every urge to shift, even as his leg starts to fall asleep. but he only smirks to himself, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “not tired, my ass,” he mutters, but he doesn’t dare wake you.
p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, meet cute. w — swearing, secondhand embarrassment because sunghoon doesn't know how to to talk to cute people. 706 words.
note — park sunghoon is a rizzless loser pass it on. PART TWO. if you enjoy loser! hoon, you might also enjoy this other series of mine.
you only came along with your friends to the skatepark because you had nothing better to do, but now you’re starting to regret that decision because for some reason— while you’re sitting on the stands all by yourself, minding your own damned business because you don’t know how to fucking skate— you’ve caught the attention of six to seven guys who don’t look very friendly.
what the hell? why are they staring? sweat starts to wet your palms as you duck down to untie and retie your shoelaces because their staring was really starting to make you uncomfortable. they look like a group of freaking delinquents. they’re definitely nothing but trouble.
but you regret taking your subtle glances off of them for a second too long because for some god damned reason, one of them started to roll up to you.
you feign ignorance, playing with the laces on your other foot because maybe he isn’t skating to your direction. maybe he’s going to make a turn to the ramps or some shit. maybe he’s just passing by and— of fuck, he’s literally three feet away from you now, and he’s got an ice cold face, and a very terrifying scowl, and he looks like he’s about to curb stomp you three feet into the ground.
he’s leering down at you with his hands in his pockets, posture leaned slightly back and confident. his thick eyebrows are slightly furrowed with a frown that’s housing a lollipop stick. he’s handsome, but he looks like he wants to fight you. he’s pretty, but he also looks like he’d call you a pretty stupid bitch. the kuromi band-aid on his cheek doesn’t make him any less intimidating. he takes out the lollipop from his with a pop!
you wince, ready to piss yourself in fear until you hear him say, “h—hey.”
his voice cracks. you look up.
“i think you’re— i think you—” you failed to notice the red staining his neck earlier, nor the sweat nervously trickling down his forehead. you should’ve known he’d be harmless from the cute bandaid decorating his cheek. all the fear you felt is melted every time he stumbles on his words, every time his cheeks grow increasingly pinker by the second, until he gives up and turns around to yell at the group he separated from to tell them to, “shut the fuck up!”
they’re cheering him on, “you can do it, sunghoon!” you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.
the guy you assume is named sunghoon snaps his head back down to face you, brows that were once knitted in annoyance quickly scrunching into a nervous jitter and he measures up a smile that matches his confidence— faltering and falling apart. you’re starting to feel bad.
“i just...i just wanted to say that i think you’re really—”
go on, you encourage him with a nod. you can do it. maybe you shouldn’t have tried to help him, because the moment you give him an assuring smile, ten million emotions flash through his face at once— shock, fluster, panic in shades of pink, rose, and cherry— until he ultimately settles with defeat when he sinks his head down with a pair of hands covering his face, but he can’t hide the color tinting his ears.
“i think...your shoelaces are pretty.”
his voice is muffled. he looks like he wants the ground to eat him.
“thank you?”
“no problem.”
sunghoon spins around, puts the lollipop back into his mouth, and kicks the ground once before letting the momentum from the roller skates slide him back to the direction where he came from, but he’s sliding slowly and pitifully enough for you to hear the, “oh god, oh no, i’m so fucking stupid, oh no—” sputtering from his mouth in quiet grumbles and hisses as his friends continue to cheer him on from a distance.
the back of his neck is still searing red. when he reaches his friends you watch as his legs give up and he sinks into the ground with a cry of anguish.
maybe you shouldn’t have judged the poor guy too quickly. maybe he just wanted to tell you that he thinks you(r shoelaces) are pretty.
-:“We could be together, forever.” Yearning prompts for your otp:-
By @me-writes-prompts
“Isn’t this what you wanted? For us to be apart and never see each other again?”
“You left and I stayed. You never looked back to see if I was still there.”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you drifting away?”
Person A and Person B were always close, but the closeness was soon questioned by everyone. The question was, what were they? Friends or something more?
Person B having to stay silent about their feelings for Person A because they didn’t want to ruin what they had for what they could have.
“We could be something more than this. Something we both want, something we both feel.”
Person A having to watch the Person B having a romantic partner, while they have feelings for them but they can’t tell them because Person B is happy and that’s what they had always wanted.
“So, tell me, what do you feel for me?” “You know the answer. You know it all.” “I want to hear you say it. It’s now or never.”
“I want us to be…be lovers. Please. I don’t want to hate you. I can’t, I never did, and never will.”
When getting into arranged marriage with you (plot twist's they begged for that) - Slytherin boys reactions ;
Draco Malfoy
Draco's been pretending to hate the idea of an arranged marriage, acting put out whenever his parents bring it up. But really, he’s been buttering them up for months to suggest you as his fiancée.
When you find out about the engagement, Draco rolls his eyes dramatically and mutters, “As if I had a choice.” But he’s actually sweating a bit and avoids eye contact.
Every once in a while, he can’t hold back his smug grin. “Well, if we have to be engaged, I suppose I’ll just have to make the best of it with the most attractive witch in Hogwarts.”
Anytime anyone flirts with you, Draco’s immediately at your side, reminding them, “You do realize she's spoken for, don’t you?”
One evening, you catch him rehearsing compliments in the mirror. He spots you and quickly says, “You didn’t hear that.”
Matheo Riddle
Matheo pulled some serious strings, maybe even threw in a "It would be a powerful union" line to convince his family to set it up. In reality, he's obsessed with you and just couldn’t figure out how to ask you out.
He’s all, “Yeah, whatever, we’re engaged. Just a family thing, I suppose.” But he’s low-key sweating and stealing glances every two seconds.
He’ll say something like, “Too bad you’re stuck with me forever,” with a sly smirk. But the moment you flirt back, he turns beet red.
Matheo loves acting like he’s doing you a favor by “letting” you marry him. But everyone knows he’s head over heels.
He "accidentally" leaves his favorite snack on your desk or volunteers to walk you to class. If you catch him, he says, “Don’t get used to it.”
Theodore Nott
Theo suggested it so nonchalantly to his parents, acting as if it’s no big deal, while internally he’s already planning how to make you fall for him.
When the engagement’s announced, Theo just raises an eyebrow. “Figures,” he says coolly, as though it doesn’t affect him at all.
Every time you’re confused or flustered around him, he gives a tiny smirk that says, I’m exactly where I want to be.
If you mention being nervous about the arrangement, he’s suddenly all soft reassurance: “Don’t worry. I’m here, aren’t I?”
He'll groan whenever you ask for something, like help with Potions, but he’s secretly thrilled. “I’ll help, but you owe me.” (You never actually do.)
Blaise Zabini
Blaise actually bribed his mother to arrange the marriage—he’s never been this set on anything in his life.
When you tell him about the engagement, he just raises a brow and says, “I knew you’d end up with me eventually.”
Blaise always seems to “randomly” be in your path, casually making conversation, acting like you being his fiancée is no big deal.
If you’re nervous, he leans close and says, “You have nothing to worry about, love. You’re in excellent hands.”
Every time you’re genuinely sweet to him, he tries to keep his cool, but he’s secretly a puddle of mush on the inside.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Lorenzo practically begged his parents to arrange this, but in his defense, he thinks you’re so pretty and shiny as ever and can’t brin himself to ask you out.
He’s practically glowing whenever you’re around, unable to keep his grin in check. He’s got that, “I can’t believe you’re really mine” look.
Offers to carry your books, opens doors for you, always a little over the top. “Hey, it’s the least I can do for my future wife.”
Constantly brings you small gifts, like flowers he found on the grounds or snacks he knows you love. “I thought it looked pretty..just like you."
You tease him once, and he’s a stuttering mess. “Well, uh, I… I mean, you’re alright, too.”
Tom Riddle
Tom didn’t have to beg his parents—he basically made it happen through sheer willpower and persuasiveness. He’s calculated everything to ensure you’d end up together.
When the engagement is brought up, Tom just nods and says, “This arrangement will suit us both.” But his eyes say he’s absolutely smug about the whole thing.
Tom has a subtle way of making everyone around you disappear if they get too close. He’s “just keeping you safe.”
“You’re doomed to spend your life with me. How tragic for you,” he says, but there’s a hint of a smirk that tells you he doesn’t mind one bit.
Tom rarely shows affection, but when he does, it’s in the smallest gestures. A lingering glance, a hand on your shoulder. He acts like it’s nothing, but he’s very aware of every touch.
So, Mattheo walks into your room, strutting like he’s on a runway, and spots you trimming your eyebrows. His eyes light up like he’s just found the key to the universe. “This looks easy. I’ll be the first Slytherin with brows sharper than my wit!”
He snatches your razor with a dramatic flair, flexing like he’s about to perform a spell. “Watch and learn, peasants. I’m about to become Hogwarts’ brow god.”
Fast forward five seconds, and he’s holding the razor in horror, staring at his reflection. “What in Merlin’s name happened? I’ve turned myself into a half-crazed troll!”
You walk in, and there he is, practically hyperventilating. “Help! I look like I lost a duel with a bush!” He gestures wildly, and all you can do is laugh.
“I mean, it’s not that bad,” you tease, and he shoots you a glare. “Not that bad? I can’t even take myself seriously with one eyebrow! I’ll never live this down!”
2.Draco Malfoy
Draco’s lurking in the corner, looking all judgmental as he watches you. “Seriously, it can’t be that hard. I’ve got this.”
He grabs the razor, eyeing it like it’s a deadly artifact. “Prepare for the debut of the new Draco Malfoy—brow edition.”
Next thing you know, there’s a gasp, and he’s staring at himself in sheer disbelief. “What have I done?! I look like a deranged gnome!”
You find him in front of the mirror, hair tousled and brow half-gone, practically whining. “This is a catastrophe! I can’t show my face at breakfast looking like this!”
When you chuckle, he narrows his eyes. “It’s not funny! I’m going to be the laughingstock of the whole school! Someone get me a potion to fix this disaster!”
3.Theodore Nott
Theo spots you trimming your brows and thinks, “How hard can this be? I’ll just take a little off the top.”
He grabs the razor, looking way too confident for someone who’s never done this before. “I’ve got this; I’m basically a grooming expert now.”
A few seconds later, he’s staring at his reflection in horror. “Uh, wait a minute. Where did my eyebrow go?”
When you find him, he’s staring into the mirror like he’s just seen a ghost. “I’m going to be bald on one side of my face! What will my mother say?”
You can’t help but laugh at his panic, and he huffs in response. “This is not amusing! I was trying to look good for once, and now I look like a horror show!”
4.Blaise Zabini
Blaise casually strolls in, glances at you, and thinks, “This looks simple enough. I’ll give it a go.”
He grabs the razor with a nonchalant attitude. “I mean, how hard could this possibly be? I’m practically a wizard stylist.”
Fast forward to him standing there, eyes wide as he realizes he’s just created a bald patch where his eyebrow used to be. “Uh-oh. This is a problem…”
You find him staring at his reflection, scratching his head. “Well, this is awkward. Did I just invent a new trend? Because I don’t think this is going to catch on.”
You can’t help but chuckle, and he shrugs. “Okay, maybe I should stick to just being naturally good-looking instead of trying to be a beauty guru.”
5.Lorenzo Berkshire
Lorenzo sees you grooming and hesitantly thinks, “Maybe I should try this too? Just a little touch-up, right?”
He takes your razor, looking like he’s about to perform a very dangerous spell. “This can’t go wrong… can it?”
A few seconds later, he realizes he’s just completely removed one of his eyebrows. “Oh no, what have I done?”
You find him standing there with a deer-in-headlights look, practically on the verge of tears. “Please tell me this can be fixed! I can’t walk around looking like this!”
You laugh, and he blushes. “Why do I always make these choices? I just wanted to look decent for once!”
6.Pansy Parkinson
Pansy struts into the common room, eyeing your freshly trimmed brows. “I’m totally going to steal your look,” she declares, armed with your razor like it's a wand.
She goes in for a little trim but somehow ends up with one perfectly shaped brow and a completely bald patch on the other side. “This is fine, right? I’m starting a new trend,” she insists, batting her eyelashes with the one brow still intact.
Draco walks in and freezes. “What happened to your face?” he exclaims, looking like he’s about to faint. Pansy just smirks, “Oh, you’re just jealous that I can rock the one-brow look better than you ever could.”
Not one to back down, Pansy grabs your eyeliner and goes full goth. “Who needs brows when you can have dramatic eyeliner?” she shouts, striking a pose. “I’m practically a work of art!”
After a solid five minutes of her trying to convince everyone that her look is “totally intentional,” she finally concedes. “Okay, fine, help me fix this disaster,” she says, trying to hide her laughter.
7.Tom Riddle
Tom, always convinced he's the best at everything, sees you shaping your brows and thinks, “I could do that.” He snatches your razor, ready to show off his “skills.”
He trims a bit too much and suddenly has half an eyebrow. “Perfectly executed,” he declares, admiring his reflection like he’s just won a Quidditch match.
Draco storms in, looking flawless. “What are you doing, Riddle?” His eyes widen at Tom’s disaster. “You look ridiculous.”
Tom shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s a new trend. You wouldn’t understand, Malfoy.” He strikes a pose, clearly feeling superior.
Draco’s face turns red with envy. “Why do you think that looks better than mine?!” he snaps, crossing his arms dramatically. “You just look confused!”
Draco will turn beet red the moment it happens, his eyes wide as if the world is ending. “Did you hear that? Of course, you did. I mean, obviously it wasn’t me! It was a... uh... curse from the Forbidden Forest.”
He’ll try to play it cool but ends up dramatically fanning the air. “What is that smell? Someone must have stepped in something foul. Poor creature!”
You can expect him to blame it on someone else. “Pansy, did you eat those questionable potions again? You really should know better!”
If you laugh, he’ll throw his hands up, claiming he’s just “testing the acoustics” in the room. “You see, sometimes you have to make sounds to enhance your presence. It’s an art.”
When you tease him about it later, he’ll huff and say, “You wouldn’t be laughing if you were a pureblood.”
2. Theodore Nott
Theo’s casual demeanor makes it all the more shocking when it happens. One moment he’s all charming, and the next—oops! He’ll just blink at you, clearly flustered. “Did that just happen? You’re imagining things. I’m too cool for that.”
He’ll give you a sheepish grin and say, “Guess that’s my body’s way of expressing itself. I didn’t know I had such talent!”
To recover, he’ll lean in closer and whisper, “I was testing out a new spell that’s supposed to... uh, release tension.”
If you can’t stop laughing, he’ll roll his eyes dramatically. “It’s not funny. Just think of it as me being more down-to-earth.”
Later, he’ll slip you a note that reads, “Sorry for the unexpected performance. Next time, I promise to keep the sound effects to a minimum.”
3. Blaise Zabini
Blaise will try to play it off like a cool guy, but when it happens, he’ll immediately look shocked. “Did I just create an unexpected atmosphere? Must be my dangerous charm at work.”
He’ll pretend to be all smooth, saying, “I guess my cologne really is intoxicating.”
If you laugh, he’ll flip his hair back and say, “You’re just jealous you can’t pull off such mature humor.”
He’ll casually mention, “If this were a performance, I’d be winning the Best Sound Effects award. Just you wait!”
And when he sees you still laughing, he’ll smirk, “At least I’m not boring, unlike some Gryffindor wannabes.”
4. Tom Riddle
The moment Tom accidentally lets one rip, you can almost see the gears grinding in his brain. He’ll turn to you, deadpan, and say, “That was clearly a trapdoor malfunction.”
He’ll try to maintain his icy facade, but the slight blush creeping up his cheeks gives him away. “How vulgar. I must have been cursed.”
If you giggle, he’ll raise an eyebrow, clearly flustered. “Why do you find this so amusing? I’m simply not a person who farts.”
When you tease him about it later, he’ll act all nonchalant. “This is what happens when you spend too much time with lesser beings.”
But if you keep bringing it up, he’ll huff and say, “I guess even I can’t always be charming. Consider it an anomaly.”
5. Lorenzo Berkshire
So, Lorenzo is this super shy guy who’s basically a walking ball of anxiety. One day, while you’re all chilling, he lets one rip.
The moment it happens, it’s like time freezes. He looks at you wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights, and you can almost see the “Did that really just happen?” thought bubble above his head.
Before anyone can react, he just bolts. I mean, it’s like he’s training for the Hogwarts Quidditch team. “I didn’t fart, it was the wind!” he shouts while running out of the room.
After a solid five minutes of laughter, he finally comes back, but he’s so red you’d think he’s auditioning for the role of a tomato in the next Hogwarts production.
“Hey, so... um, that wasn’t me, it was the goblins in the walls,” he tries to play it cool, but you can tell he’s a total wreck.
When someone brings it up later, he’ll be like, “You guys, I’m trying to establish a fart-free reputation here.” He’s totally serious about it too!
If you tease him, he’ll dramatically put his hands over his face and go, “Why do I even try? I can’t show my face in public again!”
And if you really push it, he’ll whisper, “Okay, fine, you can tell people I farted... just don’t mention my name. Let’s just say it was someone else--say it was Draco!"
6. Mattheo Riddle
When Mattheo accidentally farts, he’ll look like he just discovered the meaning of life. “Did I just… wow. That was... something.”
He’ll try to be all brooding but then break out laughing. “Well, I guess I’m officially the coolest guy in Slytherin now.”
If you laugh, he’ll smirk and say, “You’re lucky to be in my presence. Not everyone gets to witness my natural charisma.”
When you tease him later, he’ll act all grumpy. “You think this is funny? Just wait until I let one rip in front of the whole school!”
But then he’ll lean closer and whisper, “If you tell anyone, I swear I’ll make sure you regret it... in a funny way.”
7.Pansy Parkinson
You’re chilling in the Slytherin common room, and out of nowhere, Pansy leans in to spill some gossip.
Just as she gets to the juicy part, you hear a quiet fart. It’s sneaky and totally undetectable—except by you.
You can’t help but smirk, and when she notices your reaction, she raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
You casually say, “Oh, I thought I heard something. Must’ve been the wind.”
Pansy looks horrified. “Wind? In a castle?”
Just then, Draco, who’s been napping on the couch, suddenly stirs. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Pansy snaps. “But someone just let one rip!”
“I’m literally sleeping!” Draco grumbles, looking confused and half-asleep.
Pansy points at him, “Exactly! It must be your rotten egg breakfast coming back to haunt us!”
You can’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
Draco just groans, “I can’t even defend myself when I’m asleep.”
How they flirts(and failed miserably)||Slytherin boys+Pansy edition
Draco Malfoy
Thinks he’s the next Casanova but ends up sounding like a confused goblin
“So, uh, do you like... um, Quidditch? Because I’m really good at, uh, flying. My dad says I’m practically the best!” Can we get a round of applause for the confidence?
Compliments are his specialty, but they always have a catch.
“You look almost decent today. Did you borrow that robe from someone who actually has style?” Thanks for the backhanded compliment, Draco!
When trying to impress you, he ends up revealing his biggest weakness: pumpkin juice.
“Did you know I can drink two gallons of pumpkin juice in one sitting? Impressive, right?!” You’re definitely setting the bar high for romance!
Ends every conversation with an exit so dramatic it could win an Oscar.
“Fine! I didn’t want to discuss feelings anyway!” And he slams the door like he’s in a soap opera.
Mattheo Riddle
Wears a leather jacket and tries to act cool but just looks like he’s auditioning for a rock band.
“Your beauty is like a rare potion... uh, that I can’t quite brew, so I’ll just stare at you awkwardly” So smooth, Mattheo.
Serenades you with his guitar, but it sounds like a banshee wailing.
“Close your eyes and pretend it’s beautiful! I’m going for the ‘hauntingly tragic’ vibe”
Gets lost in his own metaphors, and you’re just there, confused.
“You’re like a unicorn in a world of goblins—magical but also, like, why are you here?”
Acts all tough but is secretly a marshmallow.
“If you ever need someone to cry with during a rom-com, I’m your guy... but only after I finish this pint of ice cream”
Theodore Nott
Sweet and shy, but when he tries to flirt, you can’t tell if he’s asking for directions.
“Hey, I just wanted to say, uh, your eyes are, um, really shiny? Like, super shiny-Not like my shoes, which are just... well, shoes.”
Blushes harder than a tomato, and you can practically see the steam rising.
“I was totally not staring at you! Just, um, observing the ceiling.It’s very... ceiling-like.”
His flirting attempts are like a train wreck; you can’t look away.
“Would you want to... um, go to Hagrid’s hut? It’s, uh, cozy and stuff.Maybe with, like, butterbeer?”
Tries to show off his magical skills but ends up summoning his own sock instead.
“Look! I can do magic! Uh, wait, that’s my sock. Let’s pretend that was planned”
Blaise Zabini
Struts around like he’s in a muggle music video, but his pick-up lines are straight out of a 90s rom-com.
“You must be a Quidditch player because you just scored in my heart! Or maybe that’s just the butterbeer talking?”
His flirty banter is so cringe, you wonder if he’s doing it for a laugh.
“If you were a potion, you’d be Amortentia... because you smell like my grandma’s old perfume, which is kind of nostalgic mama”
Thinks he’s mysterious, but really he’s just a goofball in a cloak.
“I’m like a dragon; I can breathe fire! But don’t worry, I only use it on enemies... and the occasional snack”
Gets distracted mid-flirt, and you’re left wondering what just happened.
“So, you’re like really pretty, but have you seen my new broomstick? It’s, like, super fast! Like me... when I’m late to class”
Tom Riddle
Tries to act like he’s from a gothic novel, but really, he’s just a dramatic puppy.
Compliments from him are rare and sound like he’s reciting an ancient curse.“Your hair... it’s... um, not terrible. I suppose it suits you.”
When you trip or drop your books, he doesn’t rush to help; he just raises an eyebrow, and you can practically feel the frostbite.
“You should really work on your coordination. It’s quite pathetic, really.”
Thinks he’s being suave but is really just awkwardly intense.
You’d think he has a heart of ice, but there are moments when he catches you looking at him, and a flicker of something soft flashes in his eyes.
“What are you staring at? It’s not like I’m the best thing here. There are better things—like this book I’m reading.”
His idea of romance? Bringing you a cursed object and telling you, “It’s dangerous. Just like me. But I thought you’d appreciate the thrill.”
“I’m not trying to be charming. This is just who I am. But... you can keep the cursed object if you want. No strings attached.”
Pansy Parkinson
Flirts by roasting you harder than a marshmallow over a campfire.
“Oh, you think you’re cute? Sweetie, even my house-elf has more charm than you”
Compliments sound like they’re laced with sarcasm and glitter.
“You look fabulous today.Did you finally figure out how to dress, or did you just lose a bet?”
Has a way of turning every flirtation into a playful fight.
“I dare you to ask me out. Or are you too scared? I won’t bite... unless it’s dinner”
Always has a backup plan and can pivot her flirtation to pure chaos.
“If you don’t want to date me, that’s fine! I’ll just set you up with Draco. Good luck with that; he’s secretly a ferret”
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