#I finally reached that point where I couldn't look at it anymore

[naranjapetrificada]

From the Firmament

I never, ever expected to write anything longer than 2000 words in this fandom or any other. Now this is apparently happening.

It's an Arranged Marriage AU set in a world reminiscent of the Ancient Roman Republic and its frontiers, with steppe nomad/guerilla war hero Ed, amateur polymath/accidental statesman Stede, and asides from future historians speculating on their relationship as a watershed moment in history.

[mcmansionhell]

this house may or may not be real

on grayness in real estate

Allegedly, somewhere in Wake Forest, North Carolina, a 4 bed, 5.5 bathroom house totaling more than 6,600 square feet is for sale at a price of 2.37 million dollars. The house, allegedly, was built in 2021. Allegedly, it looks like this:

A McMansion is, in effect, the same house over and over again - it's merely dressed up in different costumes. In the 90s, the costume was Colonial; in the 2000s, it was vague forms of European (Tuscan, Mediterranean), and in the 2010s it was Tudor, dovetailed by "the farmhouse" -- a kind of Yeti Cooler simulacra of rural America peddled to the populace by Toll Brothers and HGTV.

Now, we're fully in the era of whatever this is. Whitewashed, quasi-modern, vaguely farmhouse-esque, definitely McMansion. We have reached, in a way, peak color and formal neutrality to the point where even the concept of style has no teeth. At a certain moment in its life cycle, styles in vernacular architecture reach their apex, after which they seem excessively oversaturated and ubiquitous. Soon, it's time to move on. After all, no one builds houses that look like this anymore:

(This is almost a shame because at least this house is mildly interesting.)

If we return to the basic form of both houses, they are essentially the same: a central foyer, a disguised oversized garage, and an overly complex assemblage of masses, windows, and rooflines. No one can rightfully claim that we no longer live in the age of the McMansion. The McMansion has instead simply become more charmless and dull.

When HGTV and the Gaineses premiered Fixer Upper in 2013, it seemed almost harmless. Attractive couple flips houses. Classic show form. However, Fixer Upper has since (in)famously ballooned into its own media network, a product line I'm confronted with every time I go to Target, and a general 2010s cultural hallmark not unlike the 1976 American Bicentennial - both events after which every house and its furnishings were somehow created in its image. (The patriotism, aesthetic and cultural conservatism of both are not lost on me.)

But there's one catch: Fixer Upper is over, and after the Gaineses, HGTV hasn't quite figured out where to go stylistically. With all those advertisers, partners, and eyeballs, the pressure to keep one foot stuck in the rural tweeness that sold extremely well was great. At the same time, the network (and the rest of the vernacular design media) couldn't risk wearing out its welcome. The answer came in a mix of rehashed, overly neutral modernism -- with a few pops of color, yet this part often seems omitted from its imitators -- with the prevailing "farmhouse modern" of Magnolia™ stock. The unfortunate result: mega-ultra-greige.

Aside from war-mongering, rarely does the media manufacture consent like it does in terms of interior design. People often ask me: Why is everything so gray? How did we get here? The answer is because it is profitable. Why is it profitable? I'd like to hypothesize several reasons. The first is as I mentioned: today's total neutrality is an organic outgrowth of a previous but slightly different style, "farmhouse modern," that mixed the starkness of the vernacular farmhouse with the soft-pastel Pinterest-era rural signifiers that have for the last ten years become ubiquitous.

Second, neutrals have always been common and popular. It's the default choice if you don't have a vision for what you want to do in a space. In the 2000s, the neutrals du jour were "earth tones" - beige, sage green, brown. Before that, it was white walls with oak trim in the 80s and 90s. In the 70s, neutrals were textural: brick and wood paneling. We have remarkably short memories when it comes to stylistic evolution because in real time it feels incremental. Such is the case with neutrals.

Finally, the all-gray palette is the end logic of HGTV et al's gamified methodology of designing houses with commodification in mind: if you blow out this wall, use this color, this flooring, this cabinetry, the asking price of your house goes up. You never want to personalize too much because it's off-putting to potential buyers. After twenty years of such rhetoric, doesn't it make all the sense in the world that we've ended up with houses that are empty, soulless, and gray?

A common realtor adage is to stage the house so that potential buyers can picture their own lives in it. In other words, create a tabula rasa one can project a fantasy of consumption onto. Implied in that logic is that the buyer will then impose their will on the house. But when the staged-realtor-vision and general-mass-market aesthetic of the time merge into a single dull slurry, we get a form of ultra-neutral that seems unwelcoming if not inescapable.

To impose one's style on the perfect starkness is almost intimidating, as though one is fouling up something untouchable and superior. If neutrality makes a house sell, then personality - at all - can only be seen as a detriment. Where does such an anti-social practice lead us? Back to the house that may or may not exist.

In my travels as McMansion Hell, I've increasingly been confronted with houses full of furniture that isn't real. This is known as virtual staging and it is to house staging as ChatGPT is to press release writing or DALL-E is to illustration. As this technology improves, fake sofa tables are becoming more and more difficult to discern from the real thing. I'm still not entirely sure which of the things in these photos are genuine or rendered. To walk through this house is to question reality.

Staging ultimately pretends (sometimes successfully, sometimes not) that someone is living in this house, that you, too could live in it. Once discovered, virtual staging erases all pretensions: the house is inhabited by no one. It is generally acknowledged (though I'm not sure on the actual statistics) that a house with furniture - that is, with the pretense of living -- sells easier than a house with nothing in it, especially if that house (like this one) has almost no internal walls. Hence the goal is to make the virtual staging undiscoverable.

If you want to talk about the realtor's tabula rasa, this is its final form. Houses without people, without human involvement whatsoever.

But what makes this particular house so uncanny is that all of these things I've mentioned before: real estate listing photography, completely dull interiors and bland colors all make it easy for the virtual furniture to work so well. This is because the softness of overlit white and gray walls enables the fuzzy edges of the renderings to look natural when mixed with an overstylized reality. Even if you notice something's off in the reflections, that's enough to cause one to wonder if anything in the house is real: the floors, the fixtures, the moulding, the windows and doors.

This is where things are heading: artifice on top of artifice on top of artifice. It's cheap, it's easy. But something about it feels like a violation. When one endeavors to buy a house, one assumes what one is viewing is real. It's one thing if a realtor photoshops a goofy sunset, it's another to wonder if anything in a room can be touched with human hands. I won't know what, if any, part of this estate costing over 2 million dollars actually exists until I visit it myself. Perhaps that's the whole point - to entice potential buyers out to see for themselves. When they enter, they'll find the truth: a vast, empty space with nothing in it.

The better this rendering technology gets, the more it will rely on these totally neutral spaces because everything matches and nothing is difficult. You are picking from a catalog of greige furniture to decorate greige rooms. If you look at virtual staging in a non-neutral house it looks immediately plastic and out of place, which is why many realtors opt to either still stage using furniture or leave the place empty.

Due to the aforementioned photography reasons, I would even argue that the greigepocalypse or whatever you want to call it and virtual staging have evolved simultaneously and mutualistically. The more virtual staging becomes an industry standard, the more conditions for making it seamless and successful will become standardized as well.

After all, real staging is expensive and depends on paid labor - selecting furniture, getting workers to deliver and stage it, only to pack it back up again once the property is sold. This is a classic example of technology being used to erase entire industries. Is this a bad thing? For freelance and contract workers, yeah. For realtors? no. For real estate listings, it remains to be seen. For this blog? Absolutely. (Thankfully there is an endless supply of previously existing McMansions.)

The thing is, real estate listings no longer reflect reality. (Did they ever to begin with?) The reason we're all exasperated with greige is because none of us actually live that way and don't want to. I've never been to anyone's house that looks like the house that may or may not exist. Even my parents who have followed the trends after becoming empty nesters have plenty of color in their house. Humans like color. Most of us have lots of warmth and creativity in our houses. Compare media intended for renters and younger consumers such as Apartment Therapy with HGTV and you will find a stark difference in palate and tone.

But when it comes to actually existing houses - look at Zillow and it's greige greige greige. So who's doing this? The answer is real estate itself aided by their allies in mass media who in turn are aided by the home renovation industry. In other words, it's the people who sell home as a commodity. That desire to sell has for some time overpowered all other elements that make up a home or an apartment's interiority to the point where we've ended up in a colorless slurry of real and unreal.

Fortunately, after ten years or so, things begin to become dated. We're hitting the ten year mark of farmhouse modernism and its derivatives now. If you're getting sick of it, it's normal. The whole style is hopefully on its last leg. But unlike styles of the past, there's a real, trenchant material reason why this one is sticking around longer than usual.

Hence, maybe if we want the end of greige, we're going to have to take color back by force.

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[reystenius-01]

Sweet and Sour

Summary: Alexia comes home from that game to a sick reader. Comfort and fluff ensues.

(okay theres a bit of angst as well, i couldn't help myself, im sorry 😭)

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Alexia didn’t know whether to cry, to yell, or to hurl a water bottle against the nearest surface. They had lost. Barça had lost. Their first defeat of the season could not have come at a more dangerous time, in the first leg of the Champions League Semi-Final. 

It was their first home defeat in five years, as well.

And to add salt to the wound, you weren’t around. You weren’t at the game today. You were at home, incredibly ill to the point where looking at a screen hurt your brain. You weren’t there for Alexia to cling onto, to reassure her that everything would come up blaugrana at the end of the day.

At least, though, you were at home, getting better for the second leg. You’d save them, Alexia told herself, as she applauded the fans for coming and attending. The fans deserved better than whatever the hell that performance was out there.

God, it kept replaying in her head. That miss. That fucking miss.

She could’ve levelled it, put her team on some somewhat stable ground for the away leg at Stamford Bridge. A part of her shattered when that ball went wide, it took majority of her willpower to get right back up afterwards. 

The little head-slaps she usually gave Vicky were lighter now, only just. As much as Alexia would love to give Jona a piece of her mind (she’d do that tomorrow at the latest), you were waiting for her at home. 

The mere thought nearly brought her to her knees. 

Though she knew that you would understand, that you would be the usual radiating beam of positivity that you always were despite feeling like you got hit by a truck, a part of her feared that you’d be disappointed, not just of the team, but of her.

Alexia was brought out of her thoughts as Jona walked into the locker room. The usual post-match speeches were given, but a chunk of Alexia’s brain was just all mush after that game. It was mostly a blur, and she could hardly remember what she had said in her own speech. Thankfully, she didn’t need to do media. The last thing she needed right now, especially in her current headspace, was for some reporters trying to bait her into making a scathing comment.

She wanted to go home to you. And at the same time, she didn’t.

The team bus was mostly silent on the way back to the training ground, a few of the girls conversing in hushed tones, some faint music coming from the back of the bus. Alexia hadn’t texted you yet. You needed the sleep, so you could get better and get back to the team.

Salma’s head was on her shoulder, the girl having fallen asleep a few minutes into the bus ride. Alexia’s heart went out to the girl, and she had encouraged her to keep her head up. 

The minutes went by like a blur, and before Alexia knew it, they were back at the training ground. The radio played faintly in her car as she drove back to your shared home, making a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up your antibiotics, since the pharmacist had called her to let her know that your required dose for tonight was ready.

The first thing Alexia noticed when she got home was the smell of soup. You must’ve made some boxed instant soup or something, her thoughts confirmed when she saw the box and the seasoning packets. There was still some soup left in the pot on the stove. Well, there was dinner sorted.

She set the bag from the pharmacy down on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs to check on you. She quietly entered the bedroom, and saw you curled up in bed, your breathing steady and peaceful. She smiled softly, grateful to see you resting. You could be a little stubborn at times.

Carefully, she approached the bed and sat down beside you, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, also gently holding her hand against your forehead to check on your fever. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad anymore.

“Hey, amor,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I’m home.”

You stirred slightly, blinking sleepily as you looked up at her. “Hey, pretty girl,” you murmured, clearing your throat and sitting up a bit so you could lean against the headboard. “How are you? How was the game?”

Alexia hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. She didn't want to disappoint you with the loss, especially when you were just starting to feel better.

“It was... challenging,” she said finally, hating how small she sounded. “But you know how it is. Win some, lose some.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in your eyes. You knew your girlfriend the same way you knew how to breathe. There was no way she’d ever use the words ‘win some, lose some’ to describe a game, especially a Champions League semi-final, at home no less. 

​​You studied her for a moment, your eyes searching her face. “Lex, what's wrong?” you asked gently, sensing her reluctance to talk about it.

Alexia hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of her missed chance, chewing a little on the inside of her cheek. “I... I had a chance to level the score,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I missed.”

Your heart broke then and there, not because of the loss at all. Your girlfriend, the Alexia Putellas and the two-time Ballon D’or winner looked so… small in front of you. Your expression softened with understanding, and you reached out to take her hand in yours. “Hey, it's okay,” you said soothingly, your voice filled with reassurance. “That’s football, love.”

Alexia noticed you shift closer to her a bit, your thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. You were keeping your distance a bit, not wanting to get your girlfriend sick, even more so now.

“But it was such an important game,” Alexia said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I let everyone down.”

You shook your head, gently squeezing her hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Lex. You gave it your all out there, and that's all anyone can ask for. We win and lose as a team,” Alexia wasn’t looking at you, but you were looking at her, studying her. You could see her biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying in front of you. “Mi vida, mírame.”

Alexia nibbled on her lip some more, before shaking her head. Your hand left hers, reaching up to gently hold her chin and encourage her to look at you. “Ale, mi niña bonita. Please look at me.”

She let you turn her face to face yours, and your thumb immediately reaching up to wipe away the tears that were escaping the corners of those gorgeous hazel eyes.

Your heart ached for her. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, and it pained you to see her so torn up over the match. “Alexia, listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle as you wiped away her tears, albeit a little croaky as well. “You are so much more than just one missed chance. You are strong, talented, and resilient. And no matter what happens on the field, I am always going to be proud of you.”

Alexia's breath caught in her throat as she looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Don't apologise, amor,” you said softly, shaking your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Alexia shook her head, a shaky sigh escaping her lips. “I just... I hate feeling like I disappointed the team, the fans… and you.”

You reached out, cupping her cheek gently in your hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Ale,” you insisted, completely sure of what you were saying. “You're an incredible player and an amazing captain. And I couldn't be prouder of you–”

You doubled over, turning your head away to cough into your arm, your other hand patting your chest. 

“Amor,” Alexia all but jumped to your side, hand rubbing your back despite you trying to keep her at a distance so that she didn’t get sick.

“I’m…” Another stream of coughs escaped you, and Alexia pulled away briefly to pour you a glass of water. “I’m fine, Ale, thank you.”

You accepted the glass, taking a few sips to soothe the irritation you felt in your throat, massaging it gently. “Maybe you should take some medicine,” she suggested, worry evident for your health.

“After this,” you set the glass on the bedside table, grabbing Alexia’s hands again and getting her to sit beside you. “It's okay to feel disappointed, Lex, but don't let one moment define you. You are capable of so much more than you realise, and I know you know that.”

Tears continued to stream down Alexia's cheeks, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I just want to make you proud,” she admitted, her voice slightly above a whisper, sounding more like herself now.

“Oh, bebita,” you murmured, your voice soft just like your smile as you bunched up your sleeve, wiping at Alexia’s cheeks. “You already make me proud every single day.”

Alexia sniffled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Even when I miss crucial chances in important games?”

“Even then,” you replied without hesitation, your gaze locked with hers. “Because you give your all out there, and you never give up. You always fight, and fight to make up for it.”

“You always know just what to say,” she whispered, a soft sigh escaping her as she looked at you.

“What can I say? I’m just so wise,” you replied, pulling a face, making Alexia chuckle and lightly shove your shoulder. “Hey, no bullying the weak and feeble!”

“You aren’t f-fuh–?” Alexia tried to copy your pronunciation, and with each attempt, your smile grew. “Amor!”

“What?” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Just…” Alexia put her hands on your shoulders. “You’re not weak.”

“I know, mi amor, I know. You aren’t either,” you put one of your hands on top of one of hers, gently caressing her knuckles. “We’re still in it. We’ve been here before, no?” You looked at her knowingly, yet so softly and so full of love.

“Mhm,” she hummed, her smile getting bigger.

“We just need a bit of faith and trust. No matter what happens, win or lose, you’re one of the most amazing people in my life,” you reached out to run your hand through Alexia’s hair, still a bit damp from her post-match shower. “Want me to brush your hair?”

“I want you… to take your medicine,” Alexia said with a smile, and you groaned.

“Is it the tablets?”

Alexia pursed her lips as she stood up, stifling a smile as she held out her hands for you to help yourself up out of bed.

“Amor,” you whined, kicking your feet a little like a child being denied ice cream from a street vendor.

“Come on, my tough and pretty and sexy girl,” Alexia wiggled her fingers. “You can handle a few pills, lovely.”

“I told you that a few months ago, and you banished me to an air mattress on the floor because you didn’t want me catching whatever bug you had,” You held onto her hands, standing up. Alexia’s large hands patted your waist a little before holding you gently. It was an adorable habit of hers. “And then, you proceeded to beg for me to come to bed with you just because you couldn’t stand being apart from me for the night.”

“Come, come,” Alexia had a smile on her face as you went on your little rant, leading you down the stairs to your inevitable fate of having to ingest some pills. You hated the feeling of pills in your throat, even when you took them with water. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“Alexia, don’t be mean to me, I am ill,” you stopped at the bottom step, Alexia looking up at you slightly, tilting her head and smiling at the sight of you pouting.

 You grumbled when she wrapped her arms around your waist and picked you up into her arms, begrudgingly wrapping your legs around her waist to hold onto her as she carried you into the kitchen, “Be careful, you played a rough half of football.”

Alexia glanced at you, brow furrowed. You weren’t supposed to be on your phone or any technology for that matter.

“Mapi called,” you smiled innocently, fingers scratching her scalp, the midfielder closing her eyes at the feeling briefly. “It’s been a while since she used short sentences.” Alexia winced. “Too soon, yep, sorry.”

“The doctor said you need to have three tablets–” Alexia braced herself for the mush of words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“Amor!”

-----

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ cloud nine p2.✦ 」

Mattheo riddle × reader [part1]

Summary: The "jinx girl," as they call her, is said to bring bad luck. However, when Mattheo Riddle decides to get to know the school's most neglected girl and takes matters into his own hands, Y/N's life is turned upside down in a mere night.

Warnings:angst, smut, fluff

Words: 13.5k

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[ A Cry for Help (and Hippogriffs)]

Dear Uncle Ben ,

Consider this my official "You were absolutely right (but with way more heartbreak)" letter. Remember all those warnings you showered me with before I left for Hogwarts? Werewolves, Dementors, rogue Gillyweed incidents (honestly, who even uses that stuff anymore?) You covered the whole spectrum of nightmarish magical creatures. But why, oh why, did you neglect to warn me about charming Slytherins with a really really pretty smiles and the ability to shatter hearts ?

Yes, Uncle Ben, your favorite niece (and, let's be honest, only niece) has officially fallen from cloud nine and landed face-first in a puddle of disappointment. Remember Mattheo Riddle? The one with the eyes like melted chocolate and a smile that could disarm a grumpy Hippogriff? Turns out….well, you get the picture. My heart is in as many pieces as a poorly repaired Floo Network."

So, here's the thing, Uncle Ben . **I'm done. Hogwarts can keep its feasts, its Quidditch matches, and its overly enthusiastic Potions lessons.** I wouldn't be caught dead on the Hogwarts Express, and frankly, the Burrow isn't exactly calling my name right now either.

This is where you come in, my valiant (and hopefully broomstick-wielding) savior. **I need an extraction, Uncle Ben . A daring rescue. A grand exit that would make even Dumbledore raise an eyebrow.** Floo powder me out? Sneak me aboard a disguised Thestral? Honestly, at this point, I'd even settle for a well-timed Hippogriff stampede (though maybe not – those beaks look awfully sharp).

So please uncle Ben As soon as this letter reaches your extraordinary hands, pack your Niffler leash, your Newt-approved travel kettle, and anything else that might help

Your distraught (and slightly heartbroken) niece,

Y/N

P.S. Please bring some Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. Maybe a chocolate frog or two wouldn't hurt either.

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After folding the letter with care, I sealed it using a wax stamp adorned with a grumpy-looking Kneazle, a delightful creation from a talented first-year Hufflepuff. Placing it inside an owl-sized envelope addressed to "Benjamin Scamander, Ministry of Magical Creatures, Department for Beast Regulation and Control," I sent it off with a silent prayer for a speedy rescue.

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Y/N

Consider it done. Talon wasn't thrilled about the Beans (apparently, they don't quite mesh with his sophisticated palate), but the chocolate frogs seemed to appease him. Be ready by nightfall. We'll have a proper family reunion, Hippogriff style.

P.S. Don't worry about any "Hippogriff stampedes." Talon's surprisingly well-mannered (for the most part).

Love,

Uncle Ben

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After two blissful days away from Hogwarts at Uncle Ben's cozy cottage in the Welsh hills, I woke up to find him bustling about the room. Despite the comfort and serenity of our time together, I couldn't shake off the tears that stained his (probably very expensive) linens.

He lumbered in, a steaming mug clutched in his hand, followed by a bewildered-looking Billywig (apparently, they weren't exactly known for their graceful exits).

"Here," he said kindly, placing the mug on the bedside table. "Peppermint tea. Guaranteed to cure a broken heart… or at least numb it a bit."

I took a shaky sip, the warmth spreading through me like a gentle hug. Uncle Ben perched on the edge of the bed, concern evident in his gaze that battled with his usual amusement.

"Alright, spill it," he finally said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "What's got you blubbering like a Bowtruckle caught in a rainstorm?"

I choked on a sob, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "It's just… everything. Mattheo… the rumors… the whole thing feels so stupid."

"Stupid? Sweetheart, this is practically a textbook case of teenage wizarding drama!," Uncle Ben said with a chuckle.

"First, the rumors. Turns out Charlie Spinnet, fancies you and that by the way explains the sudden change in cologne and his haircut whenever he visits. But then instead of acting like a normal human being, he decided to spread those ridiculous stories about you being a jinx?"

I nodded, sniffling. "And then there's Riddle Jr.," Uncle Ben continued, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Used you for a dare? Honestly, these Slytherins – where's the chivalry gone? Back in my day, we at least serenaded our crushes with a well-timed love potion, not a staged play."

"I know right? !" I cried, wiping away fresh tears, he come closer pulling me into a warm hug.

When the last tear finally dried, a heavy silence settled between us. My eyelids drooped, exhaustion pulling me under. "Uncle Ben," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep, "Can I… can I leave Hogwarts?"

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Is that what you want, Y/N?"

"I don't… I don't want to see him, or them, or…" My voice trailed off, the thought of facing whispers and pitying glances unbearable.

He squeezed my hand gently. "There are other schools, Y/N. Places where you can learn, grow, and maybe even find someone who truly appreciates you."

A flicker of hope sparked within me. A fresh start? A chance to heal away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers? "Do you think… could I transfer… maybe to Beauxbatons?"

Uncle Ben chuckled. "Beauxbatons? Now that's an interesting choice. But hey, if you fancy learning with a bunch of wand-waving fashionistas, who am I to say no?"

The crisp Welsh air whipped through my hair as I sat on the porch swing, watching the sun set over the rolling hills. Uncle Ben's cottage, nestled amongst ancient oaks, seemed even cozier with the warm, orange light bathing its stone walls.

Thankfully, he'd managed to smooth things over with my parents, convincing them it would be perfect for me to stay with him until I figured out what to do about school.

Weeks melted into each other, and a unsettling undercurrent began to ripple through the otherwise idyllic setting. Every boy who showed even a flicker of interest in me or mustered the courage to ask me out –vanished after our initial encounter. Poof. Gone.

Only to reappear the next day, looking sheepish and pale, with mumbled apologies for missing our planned date . "something came up" or a sudden "family emergency."

kind, awkward Liam, sporty William , even that quiet bookworm Ethan – they all faced the same fate , a freckled boy named Callum, practically leaped over a nearby toadstool with a yelp, his face blanching as if he'd seen a ghost. It was as though the sight of the bumpy amphibian unearthed a buried terror within him.

And it’s seems like anyone who would show any interest in me will face the same fate

Case in point: a particular book I had discussed with a boy who worked at the library and had also asked me out for a date. The next day, that very book was on uncle Ben leaving room the next day and I knew for sure that uncle Ben wasn’t the one who did that .

Curiosity piqued, I went to the library to inquire about the book's whereabouts, only to find the boy in a state of sheer terror. He avoided eye contact and stammered out a nervous apology, his fear palpable in the way he trembled. It was as if he had encountered something terrifying, something that left him traumatized overnight. Unsettled by the encounter, I sought help from another library assistant to locate the book I wanted. This time, the assistant was more than eager to assist, his eyes darting around nervously as if expecting something unexpected to happen again.

Weeks dragged by, each day a monotonous echo of the last.

As I wake up today a tear slipped down my cheek, tracing a warm path through the cool morning air. I cursed myself under my breath, blinking furiously to clear my vision. There it was again, the lingering echo of his touch, the warmth of his smile, all remnants of a cruel dream.

Damn it. I cursed myself under my breath, throwing the covers back with a huff. How dare I miss him? How dare my traitorous subconscious paint him in a loving light after everything? The betrayal, the lies, they were all still raw, a constant reminder of his deceit.

Feeling the need for some solace and quiet reflection, I decided to head to the library

The usually a comforting haven, was eerily silent. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. Did the boy who worked here quit ? Thanks a lot, Mattheo.

Pushing open the library doors, I was greeted by an unsettling emptiness. Pushing the thought aside, I navigated the towering bookshelves, half expecting some kind of magical mishap – maybe a rogue pixie infestation? With a spine-tingling creak. An unsettling feeling wormed its way into my stomach. Surely Johnny, the cute boy who worked here, wouldn't leave the entire library unattended?

"Hello, Johnny?" I called out, my voice echoing eerily in the vast space. No answer. Great. Just fantastic.

Shrugging it off, I ventured deeper into the labyrinth of bookshelves. The silence pressed in on me, broken only by the soft pad of my footsteps. Halfway expecting a rogue Acromantula to drop from the ceiling or a mischievous pixie to trip me with a strategically placed shoelace, I navigated the towering stacks.

Suddenly, a loud creak pierced the silence. My heart lurched, and I spun around, wand instinctively halfway out of my pocket. The heavy library door swung shut with an ominous finality. For a moment, I stood frozen, every nerve on high alert. Was I alone?

and there he was ... His usual playful smirk was replaced by a furrowed brow and a flicker of something… hurt? Regret? It was a confusing cocktail that sent my carefully constructed facade teetering on the edge of collapse.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest. My carefully crafted mask of indifference felt like it was cracking under the sheer force of seeing him.

the silence of the library seemed deafening, amplifying the chaotic symphony playing out inside me.

I plastered a smile on my face, hoping it came across as confident and not the terrified mess I truly felt. This was ridiculous. He was the one who lied and betrayed me, not the other way around. Yet, here I was, feeling like I was the one on trial.

"Dramatic much?" I spat, my voice laced with venom. "So what's the deal now, Riddle? Bored with your little toad transformation hobby? Decided to haunt the library instead?"

He gave me a slow once-over, his gaze lingering a beat too long. It sent a shiver down my spine, a confusing mix of anger and a vulnerability I desperately tried to suppress.

Folding my arms, I tried to project an air of annoyance. "Look, Riddle," I said, forcing a harsher tone than I felt. "Let's cut to the chase. Open the door and disappear."

As he took a tentative step towards me, the carefully constructed wall around my emotions started to crumble. His eyes held a depth of emotion I couldn't decipher – hurt? Regret? It was a confusing mix that threatened to unravel me.

"You never mentioned you were a Scamander," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. The sound of it after all this time, even laced with the echoes of past pain, was a punch to the gut.

-well technically I was from my mother side but i never dared to say that to anyone afraid to bring shame to the family name , because I never felt like I deserved to.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyelids, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "And you," I choked out, the words raw with hurt, "never mentioned being fucking liar . Seems like we're even, wouldn't you agree?"

he started to speak. "I know you don’t want to listen—"

Frustration bubbled over before he could finish his sentence. "Why are you even here, Riddle?" I snapped. "You know I don't want to hear your excuses."

His gaze held mine, unwavering despite the storm brewing in my own eyes.

"Stop staring at me like that!" I hissed, the vulnerability I desperately tried to hide threatening to spill over.

Desperate to break the tension, I lunged for the door, yanking on the handle. Panic surged as it remained stubbornly shut. "What's wrong with this stupid door?" I yelled, "We can't use magic outside Hogwarts!" I exclaimed, bewildered. "Did you do something to the door?" Kicking it with my foot in frustration.

Spinning back to face him, my voice trembled with a mix of fury and fear. "What did you do to those boys, Mattheo? Turned them into toads?"

A smirk played on his lips, a sight that only intensified my urge to lash out. "Not all of them," he countered, his voice laced with a hint of something… jealousy? "Why? Do you care about them?"

“Apparently I did “I challenged, my voice laced with a bitterness I couldn't hide, "That's why I agreed to go out with them in the first place."

His smugness evaporated, replaced by a desperate plea that sent a shiver down my spine. "Don't go to Beauxbatons, love," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, laced with such raw emotion it threatened to crack the dam of my anger ,considering his impressive stalking skills I wasn’t surprised he knew about that ..

"Don't call me that, Riddle," I choked out, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the traitorous tears that welled up. When I opened them again, the sight that greeted me was my breaking point.

Hurt, confusion, and a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like longing swirled in his eyes. "Why - why did you keep calling me that? Why not say my name?" he asked, his voice thick with a pain that mirrored my own.

"It's just Riddle for me now ," I said, my voice cold, a desperate attempt to shield myself from the storm of emotions brewing within me.

"Please," he whispered, the word hanging heavy in the air. "Please don't go to Beauxbatons."

"Get out of my way," I snapped, my voice laced with a venom I barely recognized. "I won't say it again."

He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes pleading. "I'm not above begging," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I'll do anything you ask. You say you hate me, then hate me. Ruin my life. Do whatever will make you feel better, just do it in front of me. Stay at Hogwarts."

Shock rendered me speechless. "Don't do this," he continued, his voice cracking. "Not for me, but for you. Don't run away. If anyone deserves to leave Hogwarts, it's not you. Please, don't do this."

His words hung heavy in the air, each one a shard of truth that pierced the carefully constructed wall of anger I'd built around myself. "Let go of my hand, Mattheo," I whispered, not daring to look at him. He released me slowly, his touch a lingering ghost on my skin.

The silence stretched on, heavy and thick. Finally, I forced myself to meet his gaze. My own eyes, red-rimmed and tear-filled, mirrored the raw emotion in his. With a shaky breath, I whispered, "Open the door now , please."

He nodded, his face etched with pain. The door swung open silently, and for a moment, our eyes locked. Then, without a word, I turned and walked towards the door.

But before I reached the doorway, a new urgency filled his voice. "Y/N, wait!" He reached out a hand, but stopped himself before making contact. "I know I messed up. There's no excuse for what I did, but please believe me – I love you. And I'm not giving us up. I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea rolled into one. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, Taking a deep. I turned and walked out, leaving Mattheo standing alone in the empty library.

Reaching Uncle Ben's cozy cottage, I fumbled with the latch, my vision obscured by a fresh wave of tears. The door creaked open to reveal Uncle Ben, his face creasing in concern at the sight of me. Before I could even think of a response, I was enveloped in his warm, familiar embrace.

"Merlin's beard, Y/N," he chuckled, his voice laced with concern, "what happened? Did you lose a duel with a particularly grumpy pixie?"

Pulling back, I managed a watery smile. "Something like that," I mumbled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Uncle Ben's gaze narrowed, his playful demeanor replaced by a more serious one.

"You know, all this tears and sniffles could lead one to believe…"

He paused dramatically, dragging out the suspense. "You are not pregnant, are you?”

"Pregnant? Uncle Ben, seriously?"

He threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. "Just checking! Seriously that world won’t survive another riddle “

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the crackling fire in the hearth.

"You know," he finally said, his voice gentle, "sometimes the heart wants what it wants, regardless of past hurts." He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a knowing warmth. "The question is, Y/N, what does yours truly want?"

"I don't really know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "One thing's for sure, though. I'm done running. I can't keep letting fear dictate my life."

“Every time something gets hard, I pack my metaphorical bags and vanish. But this time… this time it feels different."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. "There's this anger inside me, this need for revenge," I confessed, letting out a shaky breath. "It scares me, Uncle Ben. "

Uncle Ben reached for me his hand warm and comforting on mine. "There's a difference, Y/N, between righteous anger and destructive vengeance," he said softly. "Anger can be a powerful motivator, a fuel that can propel you forward. But it's crucial to channel it, to use it to grow stronger, not to let it control you."

Turning to him, I met his gaze with a newfound determination. "So," I started, a mischievous glint sparkling in my eyes, "would you help me pack up my bags for Hogwarts? And maybe... with something 'Scamander related' ?"

A playful smile mirrored mine on his face. "Always up for a good mystery, Y/N," .

The Hogwarts Express journey wasn't the gauntlet of whispers and pointed fingers I'd braced myself for. The carriage felt eerily quiet, devoid of the usual gossipy chatter and giggling. A part of me wondered if this unsettling silence was Mattheo's doing.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I rounded the corner, the familiar brick facade of the school looming ahead. Taking a deep breath.

I saw him.

He was leaning against the oak tree by the entrance, a casual posture that couldn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. His gaze was fixed on the school doors, and for a thrilling moment, I thought I might have imagined him there.

But then, our eyes met.

His breath hitched ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before a slow smile bloomed on his face. It wasn't a wide, dazzling grin, but a soft, genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

The next morning, a nervous energy thrummed through me. Gone was the urge to flee; instead, a steely determination burned bright. I arrived at Charms class, ridiculously early, senses sharp with focus.

Adrian Pucey sauntered in, brow furrowed. "Y/N? What are you doing here so early? Malfoy's the one meeting me," he said, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Just eager for Charms," I replied coolly. "and you said Malfoy ? No idea, really”

Actually I was the one who wrote him the fake note with Malfoy’s name to come earlier.

He cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze. "Look, about what happened , believe me what Mattheo did to me after was enough to ——"

"Don't worry about it, Adrian," I interrupteda sly smile playing on my lips."Things happen."

His surprise deepened. "You...you forgive me that easily?"

Pulling a cupcake from my bag, I offered it. "Freshly baked. Want some?"

Hesitantly, he took a bite. "Sure, thanks."

"Did you know," I said casually, "Flobberworm milk compels truth?" I winked.

Stepping closer, cupcake in hand, I re-offered it. "Second chances deserve a second cupcake, wouldn't you say?"

He hesitated, then took another bite. "Thanks," he mumbled, cheeks warming.

"Speaking of truth-telling," I said, leaning in conspiratorially, "did you know the tears of a phoenix can be used to create a voice projection charm? Like, if I whispered something to a cupcake with phoenix tears baked in, and you ate it, you'd hear it in your mind ."

He blinked, clearly unsure whether to believe me or not.

"Curious, isn't it," I murmured, "the things you can learn when you spend your summer with magical creatures."

Adrian stammered, "Wh-what have you done?"

"Ever wonder what happens when a Hufflepuff marries a Slytherin?" I continued, savoring his confusion.

A playful glint entered my eyes. "Well, for one, someone might get a taste of their own medicine," I quoted my mother with a smirk.

He attempted nonchalance. "Kids would be too good for Slytherin, not quite Hufflepuff."

"And that," I said, a triumphant smile blooming, "is where things get interesting. Especially with a Scamander in the mix.”

I continued, a triumphant grin spreading across my face.“And what happens when you push a Scamander kid too far?" I continued, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. "They use their knowledge, their magical creatures... and maybe a touch of Slytherin cunning for a little revenge.

He backed away, eyes wide.

The bell clanged, shattering the playful tension between Adrian and me. Professor Flitwick,bustled in, his voluminous black robes billowing around him like a miniature storm cloud.

"Good morning, class!" he boomed, "Today, we delve into the fascinating art of Wandless Charms! A skill that separates the truly magical from the...well, let's just say it requires a certain finesse."

Professor Flitwick launched into a lively lecture, demonstrating simple levitation charms with a flourish. As he conjured a teacup to pirouette in the air, I noticed Adrian fidgeting in his seat. Leaning in, I whispered playfully, "Enjoying the class, are we, Pucey?"

He shot me a panicked glance, then mumbled something inaudible. Taking a deep breath, I decided to push my luck a little further. With a mischievous glint in my eyes, I mouthed, "Tell the truth about what you feel of this class ."

Suddenly, Adrian's hand shot up, waving wildly. Professor Flitwick, momentarily distracted, peered over his thick spectacles at the unexpected outburst.

"Mr. Pucey?" he inquired, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

"Professor," Adrian blurted out, his voice surprisingly loud in the quiet room, "I hate Charms! It's useless and frankly, you're a terrible teacher!"

Suddenly, a loud, booming voice erupted from Adrian's mouth, echoing through the entire classroom. "I HATE CHARMS! It's the most useless class ever, I CHEATED on the exam LAST YEAR, and And I've been doing everything just to be the center of attention. I've lied, manipulated, and stepped on others to make myself look better."!"

The entire class erupted in stunned silence, followed by a wave of uncontrollable laughter. Adrian's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with horror.

Professor Flitwick, his face purple with rage, sputtered, his fist raised in the air. "Mr. Pucey! Ten points from Slytherin! Detention for a month! And perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey to check your sanity!"

Adrian sunk deeper into his seat, the laughter morphing into snickers and whispers

The laughter slowly faded, replaced by the echoes of Professor Flitwick's threats. I couldn't help but stifle a triumphant smirk. Adrian practically resembled a puddle of misery in his seat, the color completely drained from his face. Mission accomplished.

Just as I reached the aisle, a hand shot out, grabbing my waist in a surprisingly firm grip. Before I could yelp in surprise, two strong hands was on either side of me , pinning me against the cool stone wall. I found myself staring into the eyes of none other than Mattheo .

"That," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine, "was fucking hot."

He brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear with his thumb, Our gazes locked, the air crackling with sudden awareness.

My gaze remained steely, unflinching. "You liked that?" I challenged, my voice laced with a dangerous edge.

"I like everything you do," he replied with a smirk.

"Good," I said, leaning in closer, my voice barely a whisper. "Because that was just child's play. compared to what I'm planning for you, Riddle"

The bell echoed through the hallway, shattering the moment. Mattheo reluctantly released me, a hint of something akin to fascination flickering in his eyes. "Can’t wait my love ," he winked, a mischievous glint sparkling within, before disappearing into the throng of students.

My success with Adrian fueled a mischievous fire within me. The thrill of using magical creatures for a little payback was intoxicating. Professor Flitwick's class became my testing ground, a petri dish for brewing delightful chaos.

Every person who participated in the stupid play faced my revenge; none escaped unscathed.

The once dreaded nickname "Jinx Girl" had faded into a distant memory. This year, I was Lady Luck, a title whispered with a mix of awe and amusement. My string of successful pranks, each meticulously crafted with a dash of magical creature mischief, had transformed my reputation.

The whispers started subtly, like the rustling of leaves in the forbidden forest. "Did you see what happened ? Y/N's behind it, for sure!" or "Isn't it strange how everything's turned around for her lately?" It was a subtle shift, but the air crackled with a new awareness. The "Jinx Girl" label was fading, replaced by a more intriguing title - Lady Luck.

One gloomy afternoon, as I settled into a plush armchair by the crackling fire, a hesitant knock echoed through the room.

"Come in," I called out, peering over the worn pages of a Charms textbook.

The door creaked open, revealing a sheepish-looking Charlie . His blonde hair seemed to lose its usual vibrancy under the dim light, and his freckles stood out starkly against his pale face.

"Y/N," he mumbled, scuffing his worn boots on the floor. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Charlie," I said, patting the empty space beside me.

He shuffled in place, fiddling with his wand. "It's... well, everything. The rumors, the play, everything."

“ Look, Y/N, I'm so incredibly sorry. I know I shouldn't have spread those rumors. I... honestly, I was a complete idiot."

"I thought," Charlie continued, his voice laced with shame, "that if I spread those rumors, every boy would stay away from you. I didn't think it would get this bad."

A mixture of anger and curiosity bubbled within me. "Why, Charlie?" I asked, my voice calmer than I felt.

He took a deep breath, his gaze filled with regret. "I… I like you, Y/N a lot since we were just kids but you never noticed me ," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "And when I saw you with Mattheo, well, and after everything he did..."

He hung his head. "And the play," he mumbled. "It was me. I told Adrian about your past. I was so angry… jealous, really. After seeing you with Mattheo."

A wave of emotions washed over me. Anger for his actions, confusion for his feelings, and a spark of something else – mattheo wasn’t the one who told them about what happened .

Taking another deep breath, I met Charlie's gaze. "Those rumors hurt," I admitted, my voice firm but gentle. "And the play…" I trailed off, choosing my words carefully. "It was a low blow, Charlie. But…" I hesitated, searching for the right words.

"But you were scared," I finished, a hint of empathy softening my tone. "Jealous, even. It's okay to feel those things, Charlie."

He looked up, a flicker of hope igniting in his blue eyes. "Do you… forgive me?"

I studied him for a moment, taking in his genuine regret. "I do," I said finally. "But forgiveness doesn't erase the consequences. You hurt me, Charlie, and you hurt others I will never forget that ."

Charlie's shoulders slumped. "I know," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I'll do anything to make it up to you."

I smiled faintly. "Please don’t do anything a normal apologize would do ."

Months had passed since I last set foot in the library, and the scent of aged paper and leather, a familiar comfort that once soothed my soul, now felt laced with a bittersweet pang. Yet, stepping back into the hushed haven felt like tumbling through a time warp. The scent of aged paper, the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock, even the worn patches on the armchairs – everything whispered memories of Mattheo, both sweet and stinging.

the silence thrummed with echoes of hushed conversations and stolen glances. Memories of stolen moments with Mattheo – whispered secrets amongst the stacks, fingers brushing as we reached for the same book – played in a loop behind my closed eyelids.

A sigh escaped my lips as the heavy oak door shut with a soft thud behind me. The vastness of the library stretched before me, empty shelves yawning like forgotten dreams. No bustling librarians, no chattering students hunched over dusty tomes. Just me, adrift in a sea of silence, the weight of the past clinging to my every step.

But then I saw him.

Mattheo stood near the Charms section, a sly smirk twisting his lips. His eyes, usually filled with a cool amusement, held a challenge this time. A knot of tension formed in my stomach.

"You forgive him so easily," he drawled, his voice low enough to carry only between the towering bookshelves.

He gestured towards an empty space beside him, a clear invitation. My pulse quickened. Part of me wanted to whirl around and storm out, to deny him the satisfaction of any reaction. But another, more curious part, craved to know what game he was playing.

With a measured breath, I sauntered towards him, my chin held high. "Forgive who?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk deepening. "Come now, Y/N," he said, his voice a silky murmur. "Don't tell me you haven't had a heart-to-heart with Spinnet already."

"What do you really want, Riddle?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Mattheo took a shaky breath, his hand reaching out hesitantly before retracting. "I can't do this anymore, Y/N," he confessed, his voice raw. "I thought if I gave you some space..."

"Space?" I scoffed, tears welling up again. "Space? You call watching me all summer, space? I know what you did to those boys, and then threatening everyone in this school on the first day to not talk or do anything to me space??" I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

The words tumbled out, fueled by a wellspring of hurt I hadn't even realized I was holding onto. "I don't understand, Mattheo! I don't really understand. I've dealt with difficult things before, truly awful things, but none of them hurt as much as this betrayal. Why? Why can't I get over it? Why does it feel like someone ripped open my soul and stomped on it a million times? Then it hit me. You did that, Mattheo. You."

My voice broke, replaced by a choked sob. "You showed me a love I never knew existed, a love I never dared to dream of , showered me with affection and tenderness. You touched parts of my soul I never knew were there. Every inch of me, every piece of me – my heart, my mind, my soul – had your name written all over it , Every fiber of my being, every beat of my heart, seemed to have your name etched upon it. And then, you snatched it all away.. They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but that's a lie. Because feeling your love, then losing it, is the worst pain I've ever experienced.”

The air crackled between us, thick with unspoken emotions and the sting of my tears. Mattheo inched closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. I could feel his breath whisper against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Y/N," he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion ."I know you don't believe me," he confessed, his red- eyes searching mine .

“but this feeling... it terrifies me. I've never felt like this before. Never cared about anyone but myself and Enzo . But then you came along. The purest thing I've ever have , the closest I'll ever get to heaven."

His words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the arrogant facade he usually presented.

"I miss you," he continued, his voice raw with longing. "I miss what we had. The way your smile could light up a room, the way your cheeks would flush the prettiest shade of pink ."

He paused, his hand hovering hesitantly near mine. "I can't do this anymore. This game... it's torture. Every stolen glance, every witty banter, it just makes the truth harder to bear. Tell me what you want me to do. Name it, anything. But please, just end this charade. It's killing me “

A tremor ran through him, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes.

He looked at me for a second, taking a shaky breath. Then, the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. "I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not afraid to say it anymore. I regret not approaching you properly, i regret taking that stupid dare ."

His gaze held mine, desperate for any sign of reciprocation. "You asked if everything between us was a lie," he continued, his voice low. "But listen to me now. You're the truest thing that's ever happened to me. I love you, Y/N. And I can't stand there watching you, knowing I can't hold you. I never wanted to hurt you, And I promise, I'll never let anyone hurt you again"

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo in the quiet library. Every fiber of my being yearned to believe him, to reach out and melt into his embrace. But the betrayal was still fresh, a gaping wound that pulsed with pain.

"I can't trust you anymore, Mattheo," I choked out, the words a bitter truth. "Even if I want to, I can't. Every word you say feels like another lie. I hate you," I confessed, the words ripping from my throat. "I hate you so much for making me want to forgive you. I hate you because I love you so much."

"Don't cry," he pleaded, his voice thick with a desperate sincerity. "I'll do anything. Just say it, and I'll do it."

The promise hung in the air, tempting and dangerous. I reached up and covered his hand with mine, the warmth seeping into my chilled skin. Despite the storm raging inside me, a small part of me craved the comfort of his touch, the solace of forgiveness.

"Then let me go, Mattheo," I whispered, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. "Let me go. Don't approach me. Don't try to fix anything. Just let me go."

The pain in his eyes mirrored the turmoil within me. "Is that what you truly want?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I could only nod, a fresh wave of tears cascading down my face. Every part of me ached to forget the past, to bury my head in his chest and feel the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. But the betrayal was a wall I couldn't climb over, not yet.

"Then I will do it ,love." He brushed away my tears one last time, his touch lingering for a heartbreaking moment before he took a step back. The pain in his eyes was a something i could never forget.

He gave me one last, lingering look before turning and leaving the library, the heavy oak door closing with a finality that echoed the slamming shut of my own heart. The air hung heavy with unspoken emotions, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

My revenge, I realized with a bitter pang, tasted worse than Flobberworm milk and phonics tears on cupcakes. But in that moment, I didn't realize that in punishing him, I was condemning myself to an equally excruciating torture

Days bled into weeks, each one stretching out with the agonizing slowness of a Dementor's kiss. What I had envisioned as a sweet victory – Mattheo squirming under the weight of my indifference – felt more like a self-inflicted Cruciatus Curse.

The once-familiar halls of Hogwarts became a minefield of awkward silences and stolen glances. Every corner held the ghost of his laughter, every shadowed alcove whispered echoes of his touch. Avoiding him became a constant, exhausting dance.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout droned on about the magical properties of Bubotuber pus, but all I could focus on was the empty space beside me. It had become a glaring absence, a constant reminder of the warmth that used to be there.

Across the room, I could feel his gaze burning into me. But when I dared to steal a glance, his head would be bent diligently over his textbook, his jaw clenched tight. It was a practiced act of indifference, a mask that mirrored the one I wore.

Lunch in the Great Hall was an ordeal. I'd scan the long Slytherin table, searching for any sign of him. Relief would flood me when I wouldn't see him, only to be replaced by a hollow pang of disappointment.

One day, as I shuffled through the crowded hallway, I felt a presence looming behind me. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs. I quickened my pace, clutching my books tighter, willing myself to disappear. But the presence remained, a silent taunt.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I chanced a peek over my shoulder. My stomach lurched. It was him, his face a stony mask, his eyes fixed on a point far beyond me. He sidestepped me with practiced ease, not even a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

The charade was relentless. In Potions, Professor Snape's scathing remarks seemed muted compared to the deafening silence between Mattheo and me. We brewed our Draught of Peace with a silent intensity, each movement a calculated act of avoidance.

The whispers started subtly, like the rustle of leaves in a slight breeze. "Did you see them? Not a single word!" one student would murmur to another. Soon, the whispers morphed into open stares, the entire school buzzing with the unspoken tension between us.

It was as if by avoiding each other, we'd created a spectacle far more dramatic than any confrontation could have been. The unspoken longing, the raw emotions hanging heavy in the air – it was a story more captivating than any Quidditch match.

What hurt the most ? I couldn't escape the feeling that everyone else was living their lives, while mine was trapped in this agonizing purgatory of unspoken emotions and a love I couldn't embrace or deny.

The silence between us was deafening, a reminder of the bond we'd shattered. My carefully crafted revenge felt hollow, a Pyrrhic victory that left me as desolate as the empty space beside him. The ache in my chest had little to do with anger and everything to do with a longing I couldn't name.

Then came the worst part. It wasn't just the awkward silences or stolen glances at him interacting with others. It was the way the girls around me perked up, their smiles a bit too wide, their laughter a bit too forced. They saw the distance between Mattheo and me, the void where his presence used to be, as an open invitation.

Professor Sprout's well-meaning attempt to pair us up for a project backfired spectacularly.

Mattheo, his usual smirk replaced by a practiced indifference, meticulously tended to his Venomous Tentacula while I wrestled with a particularly stubborn Flobberworm. The silence between us was thicker than the sap dripping from the Bubotuber pus. We moved with a practiced efficiency, avoiding eye contact, our movements a painful ballet of unspoken hurt and when he was finally done with his part he left without even glancing at me .

Across the room, laughter erupted. A pretty brunette girl, Astoria Greengrass, leaned in conspiratorially towards Mattheo, a giggle escaping her lips. He threw his head back, a genuine smile lighting up his face, a sight that sent a spike of jealousy through me.

My Flobberworm wriggled free, sending a spray of dirt flying. Professor Sprout's raised eyebrow and stern lecture were a welcome distraction from the scene unfolding across the room. The warmth in Mattheo's laughter, the ease with which he interacted with Astoria, was a sharp contrast to the icy distance he maintained with me.

The worst part, however, wasn't the girls themselves. It was the way they looked at me – a mixture of pity and smug satisfaction. Their gazes seemed to say, "See? Now you see what you had and threw away."

Another day, another ordeal. During Charms, a boy from Ravenclaw, Michael Corner, sidled up to me, his voice a steady stream of nervous chatter. He droned on about the upcoming Quidditch match, his words blurring into background noise.

Across the room, I stole a glance at Matteo. He sat slumped in his chair, his gaze fixed on the textbook in front of him. But a flicker of movement caught my eye. His jaw clenched slightly, knuckles turning white as he gripped the book. He didn't turn towards me, didn't acknowledge Michael's presence. It was as if I, and the boy beside me, simply ceased to exist.

A pang of something akin to disappointment shot through me. Was this truly what he’s doing ? erasing me from his memory? The silence between us, once deafening, now felt suffocating. I craved a reaction, anything to break the monotony of our charade.

Days bled into weeks, each one a monotonous echo of the last. Lunch in the Great Hall was an exercise in self-torture. I sat with some girls from my class , their cheery chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

Across the room, Mattheo sat with a group of Slytherins, his usual arrogance back in place. He spoke in hushed tones, his eyes scanning the room. Did they land on me? I couldn't tell, wouldn't allow myself to hope.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. He leaned in, whispering something in Mattheo's ear, his gaze flickering towards me. A flicker of something – anger, maybe? – crossed Mattheo's face before he schooled his features back into indifference.

Draco's smirk widened, punctuated by a loud laugh. The sound grated on my nerves, a confirmation that he had successfully moved on, leaving me drowning in the wreckage of our broken connection.

The once vibrant halls of Hogwarts had become a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The whispers, the pointed looks, the morbid fascination with our unspoken war – it all felt suffocating. The silence between us, once deafening, now resonated with a profound emptiness.

In my quest for revenge, I had succeeded in destroying not just him, but a part of myself. And as I stared across the Great Hall, the bitter truth settled in – the only thing more unbearable than his betrayal was his indifference.

The ache in my core pulsed with every stolen glance at Matteo. A single, accidental lock of eyes during Charms was all it took to reignite the inferno I'd thought I'd extinguished. The familiar heat bloomed in my cheeks, spreading downwards, a stark reminder of the raw, physical connection we shared.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, I succumbed to temptation, seeking solace in the darkness of night. With trembling hands, I slipped my fingers inside my pants, yearning for the touch of his hands upon my skin. But no matter how fervently I imagined his touch, it was futile, a poor substitute for the real thing.

His absence loomed large in my mind, a constant reminder of the void he had left behind. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I grappled with the overwhelming sense of loss, longing for the warmth of his embrace.

In the silence of my room, I cried myself to sleep, the weight of my unfulfilled desires weighing heavily upon me. No matter how hard I tried to bury them, the flames of passion continued to burn, fueled by the memory of his touch.

The next day crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing the heavy weight in my chest. Just as I contemplated escaping to the familiar comfort of the Slytherin common room, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the deserted hallway – Enzo.

His usual carefree air was replaced by a somberness that mirrored my own. "Y/N," he started hesitantly, his voice uncharacteristically unsure.

"Enzo, hi," I greeted nervously. "Are you... are you alright?"

He paused, his gaze flickering with concern. "I need to talk to you," he finally said, his voice low.

"Sure," I whispered, a nervous smile tugging at my lips.

He gestured towards an empty classroom beside us. We entered, the silence suddenly thick and heavy.

"It's about Mattheo," he began, his voice dropping even lower.

My heart hammered against my ribs,

"What about him?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo took a deep breath, his gaze flickering with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "He — He has a really dangerous disease Y/N," he blurted out, the words heavy in the quiet hallway.

Enzo's words hit me like a Stunning Spell. My breath caught in my throat, the air suddenly thick with a suffocating weight. Disease? Mattheo? It couldn't be true. The anger that had simmered within me for weeks flickered, threatened by a spark of something else – a flicker of fear, of a terrible, dawning realization.

"Disease?" I choked out, the word barely a whisper.

Enzo nodded. "Serious. He doesn't know how long..." He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. "But he's getting worse every day. Refused to tell you himself, stubborn git."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring Enzo's concerned face. "He never said anything," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. "He wouldn't even look at me."

Enzo sighed, a deep rumble that spoke of a burden shared. "He's stubborn, that one. Especially when it comes to protecting you “

"But how could he not tell me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

"He loves you, Y/N," Enzo said, his voice firm. "More than anything, I swear. I've never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you. I knew what he did was unforgivable , but his feelings for you… they're real."

A sob escaped my lips, tears blurring my vision. The image of Mattheo, his usual arrogance replaced by vulnerability, echoed in my mind.

"you deserves to know," Enzo said, his gaze unwavering. "Even if you can't forgive him, even if you hate him… you deserve to know the truth."

Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of grief and confusion.

"He'll do anything for you, you know," Enzo continued. "Hiding this… it's killing him. More than the illness itself."

Another sob escaped my lips. The anger, the carefully constructed walls of indifference – it all seemed so petty now, dwarfed by the weight of his illness. All this time, I'd been punishing him, punishing myself, while he…

Panic clawed at my throat. "How bad is it? How long…?" My voice wouldn't form the question.

Enzo shook his head, a grim expression on his face. "I don't know all the details, Y/N. He wouldn't tell me much. But he's getting worse, and by the way there's no cure."

The weight of the revelation pressed down on me. The silent war we waged, the stolen glances filled with unspoken emotions – it all seemed so meaningless now. All I wanted to do was see him, to hold him, to tell him… what?

Looking at Enzo, tears streaming down my face, I whispered, " Where is he?"

Enzo hesitated, then pointed towards the forest . "He's usually there, you know where , trying to clear his head."

"Thank you, Enzo," I croaked, my voice thick with emotion. "For telling me."

Enzo nodded, a hint of a sad smile gracing his lips. "Just… don't let pride get in the way, alright? Talk to him. Figure things out he needs you now more than ever. ." He squeezed my shoulder before turning and leaving me alone with the weight of this revelation.

Enzo's words echoed in my head, each syllable a hammer blow against my chest. Disease. Limited time. The anger, the carefully constructed walls of resentment, all crumbled under the weight of this revelation. Tears blurred my visionI raced through the castle corridors, legs burning, a primal urge driving me forward.

I didn't care about the stares, the confused whispers that followed. I only cared about getting to him , My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat punctuated by a sob that tore through me.

The familiar path to the Forbidden Forest became a blur. Thorns ripped at my robes, branches snagged at my hair, but I didn't feel them. All I felt was a desperate need to reach him, to hold him.

A sharp sting on my knee brought me back to the present. I looked down to see a crimson stain blooming on my robes, a tear in the fabric revealing a scraped knee. But the pain was a mere whisper compared to the agony twisting in my gut.

The memory of his secret place, fueled my desperate run. It was a sanctuary he'd revealed only to me, Now, it was my beacon, the only place I could imagine him seeking solace in his time of despair.

Bursting through the familiar curtain of trees, I skidded to a halt, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. My vision swam, but I could just make out the clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Reaching the clearing, I pushed aside the concealing ivy with trembling hands. The familiar wooden door stood before me, mockingly still. I flung it open, ignoring the groan of rusted hinges.

Pushing the pain aside, I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the blood seeping through my torn robes. The hidden entrance, disguised by a tangle of ivy, materialized before my tear-filled eyes.

With trembling hands, I cleared the vines, pushing through the narrow opening. The familiar scent of earth and damp stone greeted me, a small comfort in the storm raging inside.

Inside the dimly lit chamber, my breath caught in my throat, with my ragged sobs as I stumbled towards the bed. Mattheo peacefully sleeping on , his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Mattheo!" I shrieked, the name a desperate plea that tore through the silence. "Mattheo, wake up!"

He stirred at the sound, his brow furrowing in confusion. His eyes fluttered open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. his eyes widening in shock before softening at the sight of my tear-streaked face,the raw panic radiating from my very being.

"Y/N?" he rasped, his voice weak. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Before he could finish his question, I was on him, collapsing onto the bed in a heap of sobs and frantic whispers

His arms wrapped around me. held me close, his voice a soothing murmur against my ear. " it's okay, love," he whispered, his voice thick with concern. "What happened? Are you hurt? Tell me what's wrong, baby did someone…" he trailed off, his voice hardening with a possessive anger."

The sound of those endearment words, so unexpected after weeks of cold silence, sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down my cheeks.

"Don't cry, love," he murmured, his voice thick with concern. "Tell me what's wrong. Did someone hurt you? Did someone say something?"

His gaze dropped to the injury, "Oh Merlin," he breathed, his voice laced with self-reproach. "How did you… why did you come here like this?"

My voice, when it finally came, was a choked sob. Words tumbled out in a rush, a jumbled mess of emotions. "Enzo… he told me… you're sick… I… I thought…"

Mattheo's brow furrowed further. He reached out, his touch tentative on my arm. "Slow down, love," he murmured. "What did Enzo tell you?"

I took a shaky breath, wiping at the tears blurring my vision. "That you… that you had a dangerous illness… that you didn't have long."

A bewildered frown creased his forehead. illness? What illness ? “

"Don't lie to me, Mattheo," I pleaded, tears welling up again. "He said you were… you were dying."

"Enzo that fucker ," he muttered, shaking his head . "He must have been trying to get us to talk." He let out a dry, humorless laugh, the sound sending a fresh wave of pain through me. "He always did have a dramatic flair."

My entire body tensed. Was he lying? My gaze darted across his face, searching for any sign of truth.

"But Enzo wouldn't lie about something like that," I protested, my voice shaky. "He was so worried. He said you loved me, that I deserved to know."

His arms tightened around me "Well, Enzo got one thing right then,"

"So there's no illness?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo cupped my face in his hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "No illness, love. Just a heartbroken fool who did something incredibly stupid." His gaze softened, searching mine. "You believed him?"

Shame burned in my throat. "I… I was scared,"

Mattheo's expression softened. "Scared about me?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a soothing gesture.

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze as tears threatened to spill over once more.

“you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."A wave of relief washed over me as I melted into his embrace, feeling the weight of my fears slowly lift from my shoulders. In his arms

his playful smile fading, replaced by a sharp concern that etched lines on his face his gaze flicked down to my knee

"Oh Merlin," he muttered, kneeling down to examine the wound. A crimson stain was blossoming on my knee .

"It looks worse than it is, probably," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. But the wince I couldn't quite suppress betrayed me.. He knelt beside me, his touch sending a familiar spark through my body despite the circumstances.

"You shouldn't have run like that," he said gently, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Look at you, all bruised and bleeding."

My cheeks burned, not just from the sting of the wounds, but from the unexpected tenderness in his voice. "I… I just needed to see you," I mumbled, looking away.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, you certainly made an entrance," he said, a hint of amusement returning to his eyes. But his smile faltered as he focused on my wounds .

"Here, let me get you cleaned up," he said, his voice firm.

He rummaged through the surprisingly well-stocked medical kit hidden in the corner, pulling out vials of glistening potions and bandages. The air filled with the pungent scent of dittany as he carefully cleaned my wounds, his touch surprisingly gentle.

Each swipe of the cloth sent a jolt through me, a confusing mix of pain and a strange kind of pleasure. Shame battled with a newfound hope as I met his gaze. The anger and hurt that had clouded his eyes for weeks were gone, replaced by a warmth that sent a flutter to my stomach.

"There," he said finally, tying the last bandage with a practiced ease. "That should hold for now."

As he pulled back, our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the air crackled with unspoken words. The silence between us, once heavy with tension, thrummed with a new energy.

"I'm so sorry for barging in like that," I mumbled, looking away.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm but kind. " You scared the daylights out of me, but I'm glad you're here."

"Do__Do you still care about me?" I blurted out, the question tumbling out before I could stop it. Tears welled up again, threatening to spill over.

Mattheo's eyes widened for a moment, then a flicker of something warm crossed them.

"Like... are you kidding me?" he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Of course I do."

My heart hammered in my chest. "But I thought..." I trailed off, unsure how to voice the tangled mess of emotions that had been churning inside me.

"You thought I moved on?" he finished, his voice gentle.

I nodded, ashamed of the doubt that had festered for so long.

"I was giving you space," he explained, "the space you said you needed. But believe me, it was killing me."

"Merlin's beard, Y/N. Every time some bloke even glanced your way, I felt like I might hex the lot of them."

My cheeks burned. As I laughed at what he said

his gaze lingering on my lips. "I swear I didn't tell anyone about what you told me that night," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I had nothing to do with the play. ,I didn't know they were going to do that I only didn't want you to go because it was connected to the dare and I thought if we just stayed away, it would all blow over."

"I know," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Charlie told me."

his messy hair softened by the dim light, his jaw shadowed with a hint of stubble, but his gaze held that same familiar warmth that had always sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

He looked so good, so heartbreakingly handsome, a possessiveness rising in my chest. He was mine

I couldn't hold back any longer. With a soft whimper, I closed the gap between us, my lips meeting his in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His lips were warm and soft, molding perfectly to mine.The taste of him – a mixture of mint and something uniquely Mattheo – flooded my senses, sending a jolt through my body.

Mattheo responded instantly, pulling me closer until I was practically settling me on his lap , melting into him . His hands slid down my back.

He held me tightly, as if afraid I might disappear, and the urgency in his kiss mirrored my own. It was a hungry kiss, filled with a raw passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

We explored each other's mouths with a newfound intensity, the taste of him igniting a fire deep within me. Our tongues danced together, a silent conversation filled with unspoken promises and a desperate need for more.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged. His eyes, shimmering with desire, held me captive.My own hands tangled in his hair . "I missed you," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

The words echoed my own feelings. God, how I'd missed him.

He kissed me again the kiss deepened, a desperate plea for connection after weeks of longing. My hips instinctively swayed against him, seeking a friction that had been absent for too long. The ache in my core, a dull throb that had plagued me, seemed to lessen with each press of my body against his,It felt like a dam had broken, a release after a drought.

But then I felt it – a firmness pressing against my core, a sensation that sent a jolt through my system. It overwhelmed my senses, momentarily drowning the delicious haze of the kiss. As my body brushed against it again, a guttural moan escaped Mattheo's lips. Reality slammed back, and I tore myself away from the kiss, eyes wide with a sudden realization.

"I'm so sorry," I stammered, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I didn't realize…" my cheeks a fiery red. "Does it hurt you too?"

"Too?"He tilted his head, a playful smile on his face ."What do you mean, baby? What's hurting you?

"I-I just..." I stammered, my cheeks burning like embers. "I don't know... It's just..." Words failed me completely.

His playful smirk deepened the pit in my stomach. "Yeah?" he prompted, his confusion tinged with amusement.

"That would be…" My voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. "That ache, and it won't just go away, no matter what I try."

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. "Oh, my love. That sounds awful." He brushed a fallen strand of hair away from my face, his touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

"Tell me, love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "where does this ache come from?"

before I could confess, a new sensation stole the air from my lungs. His lips, warm and insistent, found my neck again

"Where was that ache coming from, love?" he repeated, his lips soft against my skin, eliciting a moan of pleasure.

"Tell me," he urged, cupping my breast while peppering kisses all over my neck. "I'm still waiting for you to answer me, my love," his voice dominant, commanding my attention.

"It was... down there," I admitted. "It won't go away, no matter what I try," I continued, feeling exposed.

His lips found a sensitive spot behind my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. "And what have you tried to do to make it go away?" he murmured, his voice turning dark .

"I... I tried to do what you did to me before, but I couldn't," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes, their origin unclear. He kissed them away, his lips tender against my skin.

"You tried to touch yourself? Tried to recreate what I did to you? And who were you thinking about while doing it, darling?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

"You... it was you. I also imagined it was you, but it didn't work," I confessed.

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, kissing away the last of my tears. Then he continued, his voice low and seductive, "We need to do something about that then , Would you let me kiss it better?"

Unable to tear my gaze from his, I simply nodded, my voice stolen by the intensity in his eyes.

"Words, love,I need to hear your voice "

"Yes, please," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.

The kiss that followed was possessive, a searing claim . When he finally pulled away, his eyes burned with a dark intensity.

"Good," he breathed, his voice thick with desire . "Because I'm going to worship every inch of that beautiful body. Every. Inch. Of. You."

With a tenderness that contrasted with the raw desire in his voice, he gently laid me down on the bed. The plush fabric felt cool against my flushed skin as anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach.

His fingers brushed against my collarbone as he meticulously unfastened each button of my shirt. His gaze never left mine, the intensity in his eyes sending shivers down my spine.

"That Ravenclaw boy, Michael Corner, what was he telling you?"

His question jolted me back to reality. I blinked, momentarily confused, then recalled, "Oh, right, Michael. He was talking about the next Quidditch match. I didn't know you noticed."

A wry smile played on his lips. "Oh, believe me, I did," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Every. Single. Second. Especially when his eyes kept flickering back over here."

His gaze dropped pointedly to the space where my shirt now hung open, and a blush crept up my neck.

"Believe me," he whispered,"my eyes were on you the entire time."

Heat pulsed through me as his kisses trailed down my neck, each one a spark igniting a fire within. I squeezed my eyes shut, a strangled moan caught in my throat. Nervous flutters danced in my stomach, a foreign sensation that both scared and thrilled me.

A gasp ripped through me as Matteo's cool fingers dipped beneath my skirt. My skin, flushed from his heated kisses, sent a jolt of contrasting sensation against his touch. It was a delicious shock, leaving me breathless.

"Hey," he murmured, voice laced with concern as he immediately stopped, his brows furrowing. "Is this okay? Do you want me to…"

He began to retract his hand, but before he could fully pull away, I reached out, my fingers blindly grasping at his . "No," I mumbled, the word barely a whisper. My voice betrayed me, shaky and breathless. Why did this simple touch feel so earth-shattering?

"No," I repeated, a little firmer this time, gathering my courage. "I mean, yes. This is… I want that." The last few words tumbled out in a rush, so quiet I wasn't sure if he even heard them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze. I could almost picture the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

A blush crept up my neck as his voice rumbled in my ear, a promise laced with concern. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, love, just say the word. I want this to be good for you." His touch lingered on my bare skin, a burning ember against my suddenly chilled flesh.

The sincerity in his voice calmed the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach. I knew he wouldn't push me further than I was ready. Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze, my own desire reflected back in his warm brown eyes.

"I trust you," I whispered, the words a shaky promise.

A slow smile spread across his face, lighting up his features like the sunrise.

The brush of his fingers against the fabric of my bra sent a jolt through me. He paused, his eyes searching mine once more, a silent question hanging in the air.

This time, my response was a small, barely-there nod. It was a hesitant surrender, an invitation whispered on a breath. A satisfied glint sparked in his eyes before he continued his exploration, his touch sending shivers dancing across my skin.

Matteo's fingers grazed the clasp of my bra. The touch was a spark that ignited a fire within me, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Instinctively, my fingers tangled themselves in his hair . He dipped his head, his lips trailing a warm path down my neck before finding a sensitive spot on my chest. A soft moan escaped my lips as he teased the nipple

My back arched involuntarily, a silent plea for him to continue. I tugged on his hair, not wanting him to stop, not wanting this exquisite feeling to end.

"Does that feel good, love?" he murmured against my skin, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes," I breathed, the word barely a whisper lost in the symphony of sensations swirling around me. My eyelids fluttered shut, the world dissolving into a haze of touch and taste, the touch of his skin and the warmth of his breath. Everything else faded away .

Moving to my other nipple giving it the same attention .My fingers instinctively tangled themselves in his hair.

A wave of heat washed over me as Matteo's hand brushed against the hem of my skirt soft sigh escaped his lips as his gaze drifted to my soaked panties .

“I’ve wanted this for such a long time, you have no idea,” he murmured, sucking on the skin of my inner thighs as my hands fisted the bedsheets.

“Please,” I begged, feeling no embarrassment about how desperate I sounded. As soon as he began to suck on my clit, all my worries began to vanish. Profane words spilled from my mouth as Matteo took his sweet time with me.

"Merlin, oh, I—" It seemed as if I couldn’t control my mouth any longer; my instincts took over. I knew that I was ready; I wanted him, all of him.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you,” his eyes were pitch black by now pupils were dilated, a dark reflection of the desire .

A loving smile playing on his lips as he slowly inserted a finger into me. It still felt strange to me, a sensation I hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. I was tight around his fingers, but my moans urged him on. Adding another finger, he alternated between sucking, licking, then repeating, drawing me closer to my release,a mind-blowing orgasm that I’d never forget.

My stomach clenched, a tight knot forming as a foreign heat bloomed in my core. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out everything except his voice and the frantic pounding of my heart. My head arched back against the pillow, muscles involuntarily tightening around his fingers.

" good girl , Come for me, love,"

A guttural moan escaped my lips as pleasure surged through me, a wave cresting and crashing in a series of shivers. "Mattheo," I breathed, his name a desperate prayer repeated again and again.

"That’s fucking right, love ." he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Say my name,no one else says my name quite like you do. It's a sound I desperately missed."

His words fueled the fire within me, and I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, clinging to him as the wave crested and receded. Exhausted but exhilarated, I opened my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine.

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he brushed a kiss across my flushed cheek. The touch ignited a spark within me, and I reached out, my fingers curling around his hand. With a newfound boldness, I drew him closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that spoke volumes.

"I want you Mattheo all of you ," I whispered against his lips, with newfound confidence.

His gaze held mine for a beat, searching for any flicker of hesitation. He saw none, only a reflection of the desire burning brightly in his own eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure, love?" he asked.

"Absolutely sure just be gentle ," I breathed against his lips, the words leaving no room for doubt.

He undressed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving my form. I couldn't help but admire the contours of his body as he revealed each inch of his skin. My fingers tingled with anticipation, and I reached out to trace the lines of his sculpted six-pack, feeling the firmness beneath my touch. His muscles rippled under my fingertips.

My apprehension grew as I looked at his length, my mind swirling with doubts and desires. " will it hurt?" I asked, my voice betraying my fear and curiosity. I couldn't shake the nagging thought of how he would fit inside me.

"I won’t do anything to hurt you. I'll be gentle with you, okay?"he reassured me, his words soothing my nerves.

 “Is that gonna fit?” 

 

 “I’ll make it fit.” He kissed a trail down the valley between my breasts, his lips igniting a flame against my skin. Each touch sent a surge of heat through me, anticipation building with every passing second.

He ran the tip of his hardness through my wet folds agonizingly slowly, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. I could feel myself throbbing with need as he coated himself with my slickness, the sensation almost overwhelming. Gasping for breath, I reached out for his free hand holding it , needing the connection to ground me amidst the whirlwind of sensation.

“Breathe for me, baby,” Matteo murmured, his voice laced with tenderness and desire. "Keep your eyes on me. Let me see those pretty eyes."

A sharp hiss escaped my lips as he slowly began to push into me, each inch stretching my muscles as they accommodated his girth. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, a combination of pleasure and slight discomfort mingling together. , his lips pressing tender kisses against my cheeks wiped away the tears .

As he started to roll his hips, a slow and steady rhythm, the initial discomfort gave way to a rush of pleasure that flooded my senses. Each movement sent waves of sensation coursing through me, building the intensity of our connection with every thrust.

It didn't take me long to get used to the new sensation; my cries turned into moans, loud moans, my nails clawed at his back as he picked up his speed. "You're doing so well my love '." He kept on praising me as I clenched around his length.

“Good girl," . His thumb continued to circle my pulsing clit, sending electric shocks of pleasure through me. Mattheo buried his head in my neck, inhaling my scent as he listened to the rhythm of our bodies moving together. "God, you feel so good, like a fucking dream. I'll never get enough of you," he whispered against my skin, his words sending shivers down my spine.

As I looked down, the sight of our bodies connected together made me moan even louder. I couldn't help but notice the drips of blood on his dick as he moved, a stark reminder of our primal connection.

"I love you, Mattheo. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it, but I do love you more than life itself," I breathed out between heavy moans, my confession hanging in the air like a promise. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pulled him closer, desperate for more of him.

"Fucking hell, love, are you trying to kill me?" he sucked on my neck, pushing me over the edge for the second time that evening. The feeling exploded in my belly, my moans urging him closer to his own release. Still, I continued to clench around him, my body writhing with pleasure as he rode me through the bliss. His cock twitched inside of me, warmth spreading through me as he released himself inside of me.

I was on birth control pills my mother had made me take them since I turned eighteen, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but the overwhelming sensation of love and desire coursing through my veins.

“ Holy shit,Never thought I could love someone this much. What are you doing to me ?“

"Not even Astoria Greengrass?" I teased, unable to resist bringing that up .

"Don’t you dare bring another woman’s name up while my dick is still inside you," he retorted, his tone playful yet possessive.

I chuckled, cupping his face to kiss him passionately. His response was equally fervent, but a moan escaped my lips as I felt him getting out off me .

Surveying the aftermath, I couldn't help but feel a mix of pleasure and soreness. "I think I've lost my ability to walk," I joked.

"yeah ?" he teased back, laying down beside me. His fingers gently traced patterns in my hair as he leaned in to kiss my forehead with tenderness.

"I will never, ever do anything to hurt you again," he vowed softly.

Smiling softly, I whispered, "I know," before meeting his lips in another kiss.

He broke the kiss with a chuckle" I owes Enzo big time, huh? Best brother of the year?"

I laughed, feeling the exhaustion starting to set in.

"still ,but he'll pay for frightening you like that. Now, how about I take care of you first ?" I nodded, too tired to speak.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

BONUS SCENE.

We re-entered the castle, his hand never leaving mine. It wasn't a casual hold, but a tight clasp, his fingers weaving between mine like a declaration

Suddenly, Matteo stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise. Following his gaze, I spotted a familiar tall figure with kind eyes and a warm smile – Uncle Ben! My jaw dropped. What was he doing here?

“Look who it is! Isn't that my favorite niece?"

"Uncle Ben? What are you doing here?"

"Ah," he chuckled, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Professor Flitwick requested a little assistance with a... well, let's just say a certain magical artifact has gotten a bit out of sorts. Seems my expertise is needed to tame the beast, Thought I'd surprise you , and pop in to see how things are going at Hogwarts"

My jaw nearly hit the floor,how things are going at Hogwarts ? Well uncle…

“ this young man was keeping my company , Enzo, wasn't it?", his voice laced with amusement as he gestured towards Enzo.

"The one and only," Enzo confirmed with a wide grin, throwing in another wink for good measure.

My stomach lurched as Uncle Ben's gaze darted down to our hands, still subtly intertwined. The air crackled with sudden tension , his eyes darted from me to Mattheo, lingering a beat too long on the hand that still rested possessively on mine.

"Riddle Jr., isn't he?" he boomed, his jovial demeanor replaced with a mixture of surprise and something akin to panic.

My mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation. "Uncle Ben, it's —" I began, only to be cut off by his frantic question.

" you're not pregnant, right?" he blurted, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper.

My jaw dropped. Enzo choked on a laugh, shooting a helpless glance towards Mattheo, who seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

“you're holding hands! "

Enzo clapped Uncle Ben on the shoulder, his voice booming with forced cheer. "Come on, Ben! Let's not jump to conclusions. They're just kids, figuring things out."

My uncle's expression remained skeptical. He shifted his gaze to Matteo, a guarded look replacing the initial shock. " Riddle Jr. here," he began, his voice tight. "What exactly are your intentions towards y/n ?"

Matteo met Uncle Ben's gaze head-on, his posture unwavering. "Sir," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I deeply regret the way things ended between y/n and me. I know I hurt her, and for that, I'll never forgive myself. However, I care for her a great deal, and I would never do anything to intentionally cause her pain again." His eyes flickered to me briefly, a flicker of something warm passing between us. "All I want is a chance to prove myself worthy of her trust."

"Uncle Ben, I trust Mattheo. We'll take things slow, and I promise to be careful."

"Wow, you two look positively radiant. Blindingly so, actually. Sunglasses anyone?”enzo said wrapping his hands around my uncle shoulders.

Our synchronized eye rolls at his comment were enough to power the entire castle for a week. He held his hands up defensively, a playful grin plastered across his face while murmuring, "I'm still your brother, don't kill me," to Mattheo.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

Tag list :

@avee-wavee @lovelyygirl8 @lovelyypythoness @timmychalametsstuff

[lvrdrafts]

A Fragile Mind or a Fragile Heart?

Summary : You go to a bar with your friends where you see your boyfriend there talking to his best friend about how clingy you are, you take this too heart and try giving him space but sometimes a little space may seem too much

A/N : Imma make this into three parts because i make all my stories two parts even though they can be cut into one but like i have so many ideas with this

Part 2 Part 3

The lively atmosphere of the crowded bar buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and pulsating music. You and your friends had decided to let loose and enjoy their Friday night. Amidst the sea of people, a familiar face caught your eye—Bucky Barnes, the man she had fallen for.

A rush of excitement surged through you as you nudged your friends, pointing discreetly in Bucky's direction. However, the crowded bar was not conducive to catching someone's attention. You watched, longing in your eyes, as Bucky sat at a table a few seats away with his friend Sam. Curiosity and hope propelled you forward. With a deep breath, you maneuvered your way through the thronging crowd, inching closer to Bucky's table. Finally reaching a spot within earshot, you paused, straining your ears to hear their conversation.

To your dismay, the words that reached your ears were far from what you had anticipated. Bucky's voice was tinged with frustration as he spoke to Sam. "Sam, I don't know what to do anymore. Y/N can be so clingy sometimes. I love her, but I can't breathe. I need space." You couldn't believe what you were hearing, the pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Did bucky really think you were clingy? Yeah you were always touchy with him but he was the first boyfriend you had to be fine with your clinginess. What if he left you because you were too clingy, maybe you just had to give him some space.

Racing out of the bar, you hastily concocted an excuse to your worried friends. You sought refuge in the solitude of her own home, where you could finally let all the tears held captive spill. Alone, you crumbled, your body quaking with the weight of Bucky's words.

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As the sun rose, casting its warm hues through the windows, you stirred from your slumber. Normally, you would greet the day with a gentle kiss, rousing Bucky from his sleep. But today, you silently slipped out of bed, leaving him to rest undisturbed.

Confusion tugged at the corners of Bucky's mind as he slowly woke, his eyes scanning the room for your familiar presence. Sensing your absence, he blinked away the remnants of sleep, trying to make sense of the subtle shift in their routine.

Moments later, Bucky joined you in the kitchen, his brows furrowed with puzzlement. You stood by the stove, engrossed in watching the morning news. He approached you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head, his lips barely grazing her soft hair.

"Good morning, baby," you greeted "How did you sleep?"

Bucky's confusion deepened, a knot forming in his stomach. This wasn't the affectionate, playful greeting he had come to expect. He settled beside her, struggling to find the right words. "Um, I slept alright, I guess." But Bucky didn't question in it because he liked having that space.

You turned to face him, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions he couldn't decipher. "Well I have to go run some errands today so I'll be busy the whole day" you say walking towards the bedroom with Bucky following her like a lost puppy "but I'll be home before dinner!" You say while looking for clothes.

Bucky waited but you didn't say anything after, you just went to look for some clothes and started to put some shoes on. Normally you would ask Bucky to come with you, but today you didn't. He didn't feel good about how much distance you were giving him. "Well Baby I'll see you later" you say closing the door without a goodbye kiss.

Maybe Bucky was just overreacting or maybe he did something wrong. Either way he couldn't decide which one was the reason.

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You come home come home early from an exhausting day and all you wanted was Bucky, but you had to show him you weren't clingy or he would leave you. You had a plan—a way to show Bucky that you weren't clingy, that you understood the need for space. With swift movements, you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a meal you knew he loved.

As the aroma of the food filled the air, you set the table with care, arranging the plates and utensils meticulously. You finished your own meal quickly, not wanting to be perceived as encroaching upon Bucky's space. In you heart, you hoped that this act of giving him room would ease the strain on their relationship.

When Bucky finally returned home, exhaustion etched across his features, he was taken aback to find a prepared meal waiting for him. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he looked around, his voice laden with curiosity. "Y/N, where's your food?"

With a small smile, you responded softly, "I ate already. I didn't want to bother you and i was really hungry."

Bucky's brows furrowed as he took a seat at the table, staring at the empty space beside him. Something felt off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He tried to brush off the unease, focusing on his meal, but a nagging feeling persisted.

After dinner both settled on the couch, Bucky tried to make room for you to snuggle against him, eager to bridge the growing distance. However, you gracefully bypassed the invitation, choosing to sit on a separate chair instead. The weight of your absence settled heavily between them, and Bucky's heart sank further. He put on a movie and you both watched it in silence and without the normal warmth.

This routine had been happening for a week and Bucky started to get tired of it. He didn't realize how much he missed your touch. He didn't realize how much physical touch was in the relationship. He knew he had to confront you soon before he went insane.

[lev1hei1chou]

Run Away

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 653 Synopsis: Your daughter wants to run away from home Masterlist

In the Gojo household, chaos was just another member of the family. Amidst the battles and the trials, there was a slice of normalcy: your child.

Little Yuki was the light of your life. She looked like the carbon copy of Gojo, but somehow inherited your calmer personality. Like any child of her age, she had her moments of defiance. And today was one of those days.

"Mommy, Daddy!" Yuki's voice pierced through the silence of the household like a tiny arrow. You and Gojo exchanged a glance, accustomed to such interruptions.

"What's up, kiddo?" Gojo asked, a grin already spreading across his face.

"I want ice cream for dinner!" Yuki declared, crossing her arms over her chest, her pout matching her father's all too well.

You exchanged a look with your husband, silently communicating that it was a battle neither of you were going to win. "Sorry, sweetheart," you began, "but ice cream isn't really a dinner food."

Yuki's face fell, her disappointment evident. But instead of the expected protest, she surprised you both with a declaration. "Well, if I can't have ice cream for dinner, then I'm running away!"

Gojo's laughter echoed through the room, and you couldn't help but chuckle at your daughter's dramatics. "Running away, huh? Where to?" he teased, kneeling down to her eye level.

Yuki's tiny brows furrowed in concentration as she pondered her escape plan. "To the park! I'll live on the swings and under the huge elephant slide!"

You exchanged another glance with Gojo, both of you struggling to contain your laughter. "Well, we'll miss you, little adventurer," you said, trying to keep a straight face. "But don't forget to pack your teddy bear!"

Yuki's resolve wavered for a moment as she considered the logistics of bringing her favorite plush companion on her great journey. "Okay!" she exclaimed, dashing off to her room to fetch her teddy.

As she disappeared down the hallway, Gojo turned to you with a amusement in his eyes. "Should we let her go through with it?"

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "Of course not. But let's play along for a bit. It'll be good for a laugh."

Agreeing to the plan, you and Gojo followed Yuki to her room, where she was diligently stuffing her teddy bear into a tiny backpack. "All packed and ready to go?" Gojo asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Yuki nodded solemnly, her expression a mix of determination and excitement. "Yep! I'm gonna live at the park forever and ever! And I'll have a lot of fun!"

As she made her way towards the front door, backpack bouncing with each step, you exchanged a knowing look with Gojo. This was going to be one for the family scrapbook.

With exaggerated solemnity, you and Gojo followed Yuki out the door, watching as she marched purposefully down the sidewalk, her tiny frame filled with determination.

But as she reached the end of the block, her resolve began to waver. The park seemed much farther away than she had anticipated, and the weight of her decision started to sink in.

You and Gojo watched from a distance, hidden behind a tree, as Yuki paused at the corner, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.

"I don't think I want to run away anymore," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible from your vantage point.

With a silent nod, you and Gojo emerged from your hiding spot, unable to contain your laughter any longer. Yuki's face lit up at the sight of you both, her momentary distress forgotten.

"I'm sorry for trying to run away," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gojo scooped her up into his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart. We know you were just upset. But next time you want something, just ask nicely, okay?"

Yuki nodded, her tears replaced with a wide smile. "Okay, Daddy."

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ "please don't be mad" ﹏

NOW STARRING : deliquent (almost bf) Adrien x good student m!reader

「ㅤN(?)SFW / SUGGESTIVEㅤ」ㅤreader avoids Adrien n Adrien does not like that

✙ warnings — making out, grinding, knee thing, no actual smut, stops before it escalates, unconsentual kissing, Adrien has yandere/obsessive tendencies, semi-public

notes ,, originally requested for Vallen but I decided that Adrien would fit better since Vallen hasn't really been characterised yet (I have plans dw!) See pt.1 and pt.2 ♡

You were avoiding Adrien for a good reason you swore!

After he baited you underneath the staircase you couldn't help but avoid him. The way he praised you, held you, and left that pesky little bite mark on your neck. You had to hide it especially during gym class, playing it off as your pet biting you and some people played into your bluff luckily! You would never admit to liking such a deliquent like Adrien, you were such a good student, averaging straight As, your behaviour was perfect and you were even the student president. But... your heart fluttered everytime he kissed your ears with his hauntingly soothing voice and everytime he flashed his sharp canines at you in a toothy grin whenever he saw you... Snap out of it! You were mad at him for luring you in like that.

Adrien seemed to have caught on too.

He loved— adored you but he'd do anything to respect you so he did what he thought you wanted, space. He hung out more with his gang, no longer giving silly excuses to go see you and your pretty face. Sure it hurt him and he had to rely on the memory of you two fucking underneath the staircase but he could tough it out right? Wrong. It had been weeks, did you even care about him anymore? Everytime a girl or a guy walked up to you he swore he'd kill them on the spot for breathing the same air as you. You were so buddy-buddy with everyone else but why not him? It was reaching the point where his fingers would twitch, aching for your skin against his, and his eyes would narrow seeing others steal your smile. His smile.

So, as any good boyfriend would do, he decided to corner you.

It only really took one try to lure you in, on the way to your English class every Tuesday you would walk through a more secluded part of the school behind one of the buildings, no one went there because no one really knew about it. There, he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you to the wall, pinning you to it as he panted.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Adrien's voice was firm, scolding, and assertive. He held your shoulder against the wall, his face right up to yours. You didn't want to answer that question so you looked to the side, refusing to speak. You couldn't tell him it was because of your conflicting emotions and how you always felt this weird warm feeling in your stomach when he was around.

"You're such fucking bratty boy you know that?" His growl met your ears as the grip on your shoulders shifted to your wrists as he forced his fingers through yours, holding them as he pressed his lips on yours, shoving his tongue past your lips. His knee made it's way between your legs, grinding on your crotch like it was nothing. It was natural that you moaned and it was natural that Adrien took advantage of that, thrusting his tongue deeper in your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

You caught your breath when he pulled away just for it to be snatched away from you when he went in for seconds. You tried to call out his name but your words were blocked by Adrien's warm tongue. His knee pressed a little harder on your now hard cock, this kiss was really turning you on and he knew that. He knew everything about your body.

"Fuck— Adrien I can't tell you why I've been avoiding you," You growled, voice raspy from the kissing. "Yeah you can, you're just stubborn," Adrien clicked his tongue in a faux disappointment as he finally pulled away, wiping away the string of saliva collecting his lips with yours. His dark eyes met yours, almost as if he was trying to read your thoughts but failing to reach your head, "I don't want you to hate me," He grumbled, trying to get you to speak but you sealed your lips. You couldn't tell him, not now.

He took a moment to admire your flushed features, the way your head was slightly tilted down and how your wrists were binded to the wall by his larger hands. Oh and he couldn't forget the obvious tent in your pants. "Just for that..." He leaned forward, whispering in your ear as his knee rubbed against your bulge, "I won't give it to you."

What.

Adrien fully just pulled away. Would cockblocking be the word to describe this situation? He brushed through his dark hair before turning to you, "Until you can stop being mad at me, I won't fuck you like you want it." And he left, just like that. The sound of the bell snapped you out of your shock, shit. You were late for class. Adrien was so gonna get it after this.

notes ,, I don't think I wrote this well but I'm too tired to fix it T_T Also Adrien and reader are probably not going to actually get together anytime soon sorry! I like the slow burn chase of their dynamic

[tetsusangel]

yayy okay so let's talk about dp with bullies satosugu but it's an au where they're both demons and reader is a pretty angel

gojo and geto like to have a little fun tormenting innocent humans, but lately their plans have been "ruined" by reader

she spoils their fun because it's her duty to protect humans but also because she's kinda hoping to get the boys' attention

they come up with a plan to surprise her and finally give her what she wants: to have her cute angel holes filled by her favorite bullies 💦🩷

a/n: omg nonny i haven’t written in ages and this is my first req after redoing my whole blog and im sososo happy you shared this thot with me im literally creaming

cw: dom!satosugu, sub!reader, multiple orgasms (reader), overstim, pet names (princess, baby, sweet/pretty/good girl), slight degradation, sprinkle of praise, double penetration (1 hole), cunnilingus, 'toru slaps your cunt twice, he also "slaps" your face once, oral (m! and f! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dumbification (sorry i couldn't help myself), MDNI, lmk if i missed anything!!

w/c: 1.4k

Devil!Satoru and Devil!Suguru are the WORST! They make your life as the resident caring angel so hard :( They’re always prancing around toying with oblivious humans.

Before they met you, their antics were occasional and spontaneous. But when they first saw you swoop down and save the poor innocent soul they had been messing with, they knew they had to see you again. Even if that meant going out of their way to torment more humans than they were interested in doing.

And they knew you were enjoying it. Not enjoying saving the humans, but enjoying seeing Satoru and Suguru. The two men were constantly bored and aching for a new plaything, those plain humans just weren’t cutting it anymore. They needed to get their hands on you and that sweet cunt you’d been hiding from them.

They also knew you were too shy to say anything. You were just a pretty little angel trying to stop two big, mean devils from harming the one thing you had sworn to protect. So of course, they kept on with their torments towards those inferior humans. And you, of course, kept coming in to save the day.

“That’s enough! Don’t you guys think it’s time you give those poor humans a break. They haven’t done anything to you” You scolded, putting up a horrible act of pretending you weren’t enjoying their company.

Deep down all three of you knew that something was bound to happen soon. You were all reaching your breaking point. Soon enough they’d give you exactly what you want from them, and they would take exactly what they want from you.

Devil!Satoru and Devil!Suguru wouldn’t be able to hold the title of devils if they weren’t as good as they were in teasing you and slowly breaking you down into the perfect pet for them. But to do that, they’d need you to open up first. What better way to coax a kind hearted angel out of her shell than to surprise her?

As you laid down on your back against the plush expanse of your bed, you wondered why you hadn’t seen or heard anything from Satoru and Suguru. It had been an entire week of peace and quiet; something you weren’t used to and something you didn’t miss.

You didn’t enjoy seeing pure-hearted humans get hurt by them, but you did enjoy the way Satoru and Suguru looked at you when you scolded them. Like they were going to eat you up and, God, you wished they would.

Pulling a pillow over your head you groaned. “Aww poor baby, somethin’ wrong?” A muffled voice called out from your right. A voice that sounded a lot like….Satoru? “She must’ve missed us. I think she likes us more than she’d like to admit” Another voice calls out, this time from your left and the sound is similar to the honeyed voice of Suguru.

Amidst your confusion, the pillow you had used to cover your face was ripped from your hands and lo and behold were the two missing men. Before you can stop yourself, you whined out a quiet “I missed you”. By the looks on their faces, you could tell they had missed you too. And that they definitely had something planned for you.

“Yeah, baby? You missed us? Fuck, we missed you too. Our sweet, little angel. Always pretending she’s coming down to save those worthless humans when she really just wants to be near us.” Satoru starts.

“No- No I” This time, you’re cut off by Suguru. “Don’t be like that pretty girl. We missed you too. In fact, Satoru and I wanna show you how much we missed you”.

You couldn’t believe it. You’ve waited for so long for them to finally give you what you’d been craving since the day you saved the first human they tormented. Were you dreaming? Were you in heaven? No, of course not. Devils aren’t allowed in heaven. This was hell.

Everything happens so suddenly. You're flipped on your hands and knees, Satoru behind you and the tent in Suguru’s pants is right in front of your face just begging to be touched. Before you can even pick a hand up to unzip Suguru, you feel a large hand flip your skirt up followed by two long digits rubbing against your clothed pussy.

Another whine escapes your lips as Satoru’s ring and middle finger draw tight circles around your clit from above your panties. When Satoru finally drags your panties down and off your ankles is when Suguru speaks up again. “C’mon princess, don’t keep me waiting. We’ve been so patient with you. Don’t make us be mean to you on our first day. Or would you like that?”

The whimper that escapes your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by the two. Suguru drops his boxers and jeans, kicking them off as fast as he can. “Kiss the tip baby- Fuck, that’s it. Good girl” The praise is sent straight between your legs and a chuckle from Satoru lets you know he felt your needy cunt clench around his fingers. 

“You like that, baby? You wanna be praised? But you’re acting like such a slut. What kind of angel lets two devils use her like this? Oh sweet girl, you’re so wet. You like when I’m mean to you?” You want to say no, you want to tell him it isn’t true (it is true), but Suguru shoves himself farther down your throat, a guttural groan sending vibrations all over your body. 

You’re so focused on trying to take Suguru down your throat that you don’t realize Satoru getting impatient. A sharp slap on your clit brings your attention back to Satoru. You barely get out a “S’toruuuu” before he does it again. Another cross between a moan and a whine leaves your mouth causing Suguru to buck his hips into your face. 

Satoru can tell you’re getting distracted again, but this time he opts to wrap his soft tongue around your clit while his ring and middle finger slip inside your wet folds, scissoring you open. They’re both so overwhelming, Satoru behind you slurping away at your sweet pussy and Suguru wrapping a hand around your head and pulling it back and forth on his dick. 

And then as if they were connected telepathically, they both pull away at the same time. Your head is spinning, the only thing on your mind is making sure you end the night with them stuffing you full of their cum. 

Satoru leans back against the headboard and pulls you into his lap, your back facing Suguru. And finally, finally, he slowly sinks you down on his fat length. It’s already too much for you but Suguru is right behind him, they’ve waited long enough. You can take them both. As soon as you’ve settled down on Satoru, Suguru is pushing into you. 

“W-Wait, fuucckkk, ‘s too much! Too big!” You cry out, but the two devils don’t seem to care. They buck their hips into yours, the room filled with echoes of your whines and moans of “C-Can’t”, “Wan’ more” and “Please d-don’t stop”. Soon enough you’re not talking at all. You’ve cum more times than you can count. The overstimulation was too much for you to handle. 

Your eyes have rolled into your head and the only thing you can think of is Satoru and Suguru and Suguru and Satoru. A light slap on the right side of your face gets you to look at Satoru but he can tell from that far-away look in your eyes that you aren’t completely here anymore. That’s okay though. He knows he wanted this, he knows Suguru wanted this, and he for sure knows that you needed this.

“Suguru, shit, I think our sweet, little angel has gone dumb” A groan is heard from the other man. “Fuck, what slut. She takes us so well.” G-Gonna cum soon” A response is heard almost immediately “M-Me too. You gonna cum for us one more time, pretty girl?” Suguru’s hand snakes around your waist to use a finger of his to rub fast and messy circles around your puffy clit. 

No longer able to respond, you arch your back further into Satoru causing your head to lean back on Sugurus shoulder as you whine out in overstimulation. Their thrusts become erratic and you know they’re getting closer and closer and finally they fill you up as you cum. The sticky, sweaty smell of sex overwhelms your senses. Another tap is felt on your shoulder, “Hey pretty, let’s get you cleaned up”

[norrisleclercf1]

I need angsty sebcharles where reader is having a panic attack because she had a week from hell that just exploded like a volcano and she can’t get ahold of them to calm her down. So they basically find her losing her shit in their home.

(Totally not base off my own life)

Love everything you do!!

- 🐮

A/N: Aight getting personnal here and it's finals week so yeah

You couldn't handle it anymore. You couldn't sit for hours on end reading garbled words trying to make sense of them. You were tired beyond what was considered to be normal. Drinking way to many sodas and energy drinks for the shaking to just be tiredness.

You tried to blame the restlessness on the energy drinks you've been chugging all day but you knew you couldn't keep up that excuse. Wanting nothing more than to close your books, you feel your chest tighten and your vision narrow. "Not good," You whisper and start looking around the papers and books for your phone.

You needed to call one of them, you didn't matter who, you just needed one of them to talk you down. Finding it, you shake heavily and hit Sebastian's caller ID praying he picks up.

"Pick up, please, Sebby, I need you." You whimper out, trying hard to keep yourself from breaking down. You were fighting a losing battle with your head and you needed his calm voice to talk you down, you needed Charles's soft french as he reminds you that everything is going to be okay. "Sebby, pick up." You choke on a sob trying your best to control the tears that were no falling down your face.

"You have reached the automated voicemail of-" You don't wait for it to finish before your hitting end and calling Charles. Maybe Sebastian turned his phone off again, he does get annoyed sometimes with it always going off. "Charlie, I need you." You sob out digging your head between your legs trying to do your soothing techniques your therapist taught you.

Yet again you get the same monotone robot voice before you throw the phone and hiccup, letting the sob rack your body. Standing up you start to pace the living room, pulling at your hair as you cry the world spinning. Why weren't they picking up? Did they not love you anymore? Have they realized you're not right for them? Why aren't they here? Why?

Your mind runs wild as your body racks out a loud sob and you drop to the floor as your body starts to go into survival mode. Your vision darkening.

----------------

"Think she'll like them?" Charles asks, nervous as he holds the little gifts and bouquet of flowers. They knew you have been studying hard and they wanted to surprise you. "Yes, Charlie, stop asking." Sebastian laughs as they push open the garage door and are slow to walk in, not wanting to alert you.

Stepping farther into the house, Sebastian stops when he hears a gut wrenching sound coming from the living room. "Y/n," Charles gasps, dropping everything as he rushes to you, Sebastian quick on his heels. "Oh god, baby." Charles is frantic seeing the state you're in.

"Fuck," Sebastian collapses beside his boyfriend as Charles wraps his arms around you. "Don't leave me," You sob, Charles and Sebastian share a look. You rarely had your episodes, but when you did they were never good and they tried to be there.

"Why didn't you answer," You whimper into Charles chest as Sebastian grabs your hand and does a pressure point to help you calm down. "We're sorry, fuck we're so sorry. We were getting to a gift and fuck we're so sorry." Charles whispers, rocking back and forth a little with you, which has you slowing your breathing.

"We're never leaving you, you know that yeah?" Sebastian asks, moving closer and you nod your head slowly. "It just got to much." You whimper and Sebastian nods. "I'm so sorry we weren't here. But, we're here now." Sebastian whispers, pulling you both into him.

"We're not going anywhere."

[81norris]

so eager - lando norris x reader

pairing : lando norris x fem!reader warnings : nwfs, smut, p.in.v, unprotected sex, dirty talk word count : 1,5k summary : lando is bored at the party and knows a way to make the night more interesting for both of you... a/n : i was DYING to write about lando and finally did! i hope you'll enjoy and feedback is always appreciated! also a huge thanks for all the love on my first writing, it's very appreciated <3 xoxo bunny

it wasn't even that late but lando was already waiting to get home. you and him had come to this party threw by one of your friends, you both had dressed up pretty nicely, you in your black silk dress and him in his black shirt.

at first enthusiastic about going to the party, he was now impatient, sitting in one of the chairs in the living room, his leg bouncing. lando was usually pretty patient, never really in a rush, but tonight he could have sweared he had never been more impatient in his life.

why you may wonder ? well because of you.

the way you laughed, the way your dress kept riding up your thighs despite you pulling it down again and again. the way you danced, the way you smiled... you were the hottest thing he had ever seen, everything about you seemed to make him insane.

he wanted you, no matter where he could. he wanted to kiss you, touch you, feel you. but you both weren't home and you hadn't gone out in a while and lando didn't want to ruin your fun.

but he could barely hide it anymore, acting like you weren't making him harder by the second was something lando could not do. he suddenly stood up and made his way to you. you were talking to one of the guests near the bar but he didn't mind interrupting you. having you right now was more than a want, it was a need.

you saw your boyfriend coming your way and smiled at him before seeing the look in his eyes : a mix of lust and determination. a look you were no stranger to.

"can we talk quickly?" lando said as he grabbed your waist, ignoring the person your were talking to. "sure, something's wrong?" he didn't answer you and just took you by the hand.

you followed him and knew damn well what your boyfriend wanted to talk to you about, and it made you laugh internally. infact it made you laugh so much that you decided you would play dumb and make it hard for lando to get what he wanted.

you arrived in a hallway, "so, is anything wrong lando?". he let go of your hand and got closer to you, dangerously closer. "let's get out of here", he had gotten so close that both your bodies had reached the wall and the sexual tension between you two could be cut with a knife at this point.

"why? aren't you having fun?" you said, your hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "oh yes, sooo much fun" he answered in his usual sarcastic tone, "but i have funnier activities in mind sweetie".

he had you hooked and you couldn't deny that you wanted him too but you didn't want to give up this fast. "well.. you'll have to wait then i guess cause i am certainly having fun". his hand reached your waist and his mouth went next to your ear, "c'mon y/n, let me show you some real fun".

he backed off, took you by the hand again and opened the door right next to you before getting both of you into the room. the room happened to be a bathroom. "lucky bastard" you thought as he gently pushed you against the sink, his mouth going straight to your neck.

"i’ve been thinking about that all night" lando said as he pulled your dress up your ass, his hands groping and malaxing your ass cheeks.

"well hurry up then, i ain’t got all night". he chuckled against your neck before turning you around, your ass ending up right against his crotch and you could tell he really had been thinking about this moment all night.

"you want me to hurry up? don’t worry i will" he said with a smirk. you then heard him undo his belt and quickly unzip his pants. he grabbed you by your waist and with his left hand easily pushed aside your panties.

he was breathing heavily against your neck and you arched your back when you felt his cock tease your entrance, going back in forth with his tip between your lips to coat himself in your juices.

"ready love?" he asked while giving little pecks to your shoulders and you nodded. he then finally got inside you, slowly but surely. him being on the thicker side always drove you crazy but could also be a bit scary, especially in those moments where he was so eager to be inside of you that you thought he would just get inside you in one quick movement.

but lando didn’t and it reassured you, even in the heat of the moment he was always taking it slow and safe with you, hurting you was the last thing he’d want to do. after a few slow thrusts you were used to him, his length and thickness so he started thrusting deeper but also faster.

your hands were gripping for god’s sake on the sink, moans falling off your mouth like prayers. his right hand was firmly placed on your hips to guide you back to his own every time he pulled out of you. his left hand was holding you by your neck, not too hard, just enough to handle you.

the mixed sounds of skin slapping and of your moans were getting him closer and closer to his orgasm. you looked at him through the mirror and the sight was simply delicious : a few curls were falling on his sweaty forehead, his shirt half unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

he was glowing and his moans were becoming nearly as loud as yours. the deeper he got inside of you and the more he hit close to your sweet spot, he got you wrapped around his fingers, knowing exactly how to get you on the edge.

"funnier than talking to this random guy right" he said, almost out of breath. even tho it seemed like a question it definitively got out more as a tease, lando sometimes couldn’t help himself but act (or at least sound) a little jealous but deep down he knew you were his and only his.

"you look so fucking good darling, my cock fits so well inside of you" he kept talking but you never answered, or you couldn’t. everything was rushing in your mind and you were physically unable to form a sentence, even if you really tried.

"who’s my good girl uh?" he asked, giving your ass a slap to make you understand that this time he wanted an answer. "oi, i asked you a question" he said before grabbing your neck and pulling you against his chest, gluing your body to his.

"it’s me, i’m the good girl" you finally answered him, making it as comprehensive as you could. "MY good girl, mine only" he snapped at you while tightening the grip around your neck.

he felt your walls getting tighter and tighter around his cock, alarming him that you were about to come. "you’re gonna come for me aight?", his thrusts also got sloppier and messier as he was also very close to coming.

"yes.. please lando make me come", you had told him exactly what he loved to hear and a loud whine got out of him. "fuck baby, i’m coming too"

with one deep thrust he made you come on his cock, your back arching more than you thought it was physically possible. his name left your mouth between curses, lando slowed down but was still chasing his own orgasm as much as he could.

"come on lando.. come inside me", and it didn’t take more than this for him to spill it all inside of you. he held you close to him, both his arms holding you in a tight embrace while he was still -very slowly- thrusting in and out of you, making both of you come down from your highs.

"fuck.. that was fantastic", he whispered in your ear as he slide out of you and then got down on one knee to admire his cum spill out of your cunt. he then got back up and crashed his lips against yours, his hands sweetly tracing circles on the sides of your body.

"d’you think they heard us?" you asked him, your head momentarily resting on his shoulder, your breathing still a bit shaky after such a big orgasm.

"i sure hope they did, you sounded so exquisite", you slapped his arm and he laughed out loud at your reaction, a laugh that you adored more than anything.

he kissed your forehead before grabbing a random towel in the room to clean both of you up, "no one will know" he said before throwing it in the laundry bin and giving you a wink, making you laugh as well.

you put your panties and dress back on correctly while he zipped his pants up before putting his belt back on.

"ok but let’s really get back home now, i’m tired" he told you while grabbing your hand as you got out of the bathroom, intertwining his hand with yours. "and who’s fault is that?" you threw in his face with a cheeky smile. "don’t you dare act like you didn’t enjoy every bit of this" he said, landing a kiss on your forehead.

yes, you did enjoy every bit of this even tho you wouldn’t admit it. but lando knew you didn’t need to, he knew you did and your loud moans were loud enough to prove his point to himself.

[heartsforhavik]

this isn’t paw-some… (bi-han, tomas x gn reader)

warnings: slight angst to comfort in both, established relationship in bi-han's, slight spoilers for mk1 story mode, gender neutral reader

summary: bi-han and tomas vrbada somehow turned into animals! but you have no idea it's them, so you end up telling them a secret... (both separate)

a/n: heyyy so um i had no idea what to write yesterday bc i hated every draft i had but i FINALLY got this one done. idk why but i'm in a phase where i hate everything i write. thanks for your patience guys!

bi-han

bi-han woke up to his bedsheets completely engulfing him. in confusion, he tried pulling them aside, but it barely moved an inch.

“what is this…?” he tried mumbling, but instead it came out sounding like the meows of a cat.

in a panic, he immediately rolled out of his bedsheets and tried to stand up, but his legs weren't strong enough to hold him up.

in fact, he didn't even have his legs anymore. he had little legs and paws.

this had to be a nightmare. there's no way he just woke up as a cat. fortunately, he happened to have a day off. but he still had many questions. why did he wake up as a cat? is this a permanent change?

but he knew there was no need to stress. bi-han needed to chill out. panicking doesn't solve anything. he must find you, surely you can recognize him immediately.

first, he must learn to walk as a cat. walking on all fours felt so strange to him, especially because his new paws were so sensitive to the hard, wooden floors. but he can get used to it for now.

you heard a quiet scratching noise at your door. thinking someone probably just accidentally brushed up against your door, you ignored it. until you heard it again. and again. louder each time.

you groaned, getting up and opening the door to a cute black cat.

"oh hello there! what are you doing in a place like this?" you giggled, immediately picking it up and petting it gently.

the cat purred in contentment, and rubbed its head against your hand.

while bi-han enjoyed the close proximity to you, he still needed to find out how to let you know *he* is the cat you are holding.

"i wonder if bi-han would approve of you wandering around." you sighed.

bi-han meowed as loud as he could, tapped on your chest with his little paw, then pointed towards himself. he hoped you understood what he was trying to say.

"it looks like you're trying to stretch. maybe we can go for a walk?" you offered, setting him down.

'this is gonna take a while.' bi-han thought. for now, all he could do was grumpily walk beside you.

-

"...and then, bi-han told me he was too busy for a night out. i understand that he's the grandmaster and stuff, but i just wish i could spend more time with him. you know?" you ranted to the cat walking beside you, *still* unaware it was bi-han himself.

he listened intently to what you had to say. it was true, he was very busy most of the time and couldn't spend much time with you. but he had no idea it was affecting you this much. once he turns human again, he'll make sure to fix the problem.

after an hour or so of walking around, you finally got tired and walked back to your home. once you reached your bedroom, you picked up the cat you spent your day with and placed it on your bed.

"i hope you don't have any diseases, that wouldn't be very good for me." you laughed nervously, as you climbed into bed next to the cat.

bi-han looked at you in annoyance and scrunched his little nose as if you just called him something offensive.

"anyways, goodnight little one. i hope we can find your owner tomorrow. if not, i can take care of you! as long as bi-han allows it..." you trailed off. "in fact, i'm really scared of displeasing him.."

bi-han's ears perked up at what you said. why would you be so scared of pleasing him? is he so intimidating that he even makes his significant other frightened?

"i mean, it's not like he's aggressive or anything, i just don't want to disappoint him. i feel like i'm walking on eggshells around him. if i say the wrong thing, he would think i'm unworthy of being with him. sometimes... i'm not sure if he really loves me. if he really loved me, he would put more effort into spending time with me... right?" you whispered, as a small tear escaped from your eye.

bi-han's heart broke a bit when he heard that. he knows that he is a bit.. judgemental. but he never meant to make you feel unloved.

he crawled up to you and licked your tear away. he hoped that it would make you feel a bit better about your situation. he made a mental note to talk to you as soon as he was human again. the last thing bi-han wanted to do was hurt you. even after all the people he has betrayed, hurt, and even killed... you were the only person he never wished to harm.

he cuddled up beside you and made himself comfortable. surely a bit of physical touch would make you feel better? it's not like he has been doing that in his human form anyway.. which he notes to fix soon.

soon you both drifted off to sleep peacefully, with bi-han curled up comfortably in your arms.

the next morning, you woke up to bi-han sleeping right next to you. when did he get there?

“bi-han?” you whispered.

when he woke up, he immediately checked his arms and legs. thankfully, he was human again.

“good morning, beloved. how did you sleep?” bi-han asked, strangely casual even though he magically appeared in your bed.

“i slept.. fine. but i had a cat with me. it was a cute little black cat, it showed up at my door out of nowhere yesterday. it was kind of grumpy, but it listened to me when i ranted to it. it kind of reminded me of you.” you giggled.

“about that…” bi-han sighed. “…i have some explaining to do.”

tomas vrbada

tomas had invited you to madam bo’s for dinner, and he was planning on confessing his feelings to you there. but unfortunately, he couldn't exactly make it.

he accidentally fell asleep, and when he woke up he realized he was late. he immediately got up from his bed and tried standing up, but he couldn't stand on his two legs anymore. because his legs were now full of fur, and he had paws.

this could not be happening. the first time he gained the courage to make a move and ask you out, he ends up turning into a dog.

he had to find a way to get to you and do something. what if you think he stood you up on purpose?

-

you were sitting at a table at madam bo's, waiting for tomas to arrive. you get that he's probably busy, so you were being very patient and decided to wait a bit. but you were sitting there for so long, the place was going to close soon.

you were about to get up and leave, until a golden retriever dog ran up to you with its tail wagging intensely.

it didn't have a collar, so it seemed to be a random stray dog that took a liking to you. but it also seemed so well-behaved, how could it be a stray?

tomas was relieved to see that you were still at the restaurant. he felt bad that he made you wait for nothing, but at least that was a sign that you cared about him.

"oh, hello there. what could you be doing in a place like this?" you greeted, petting the dog in front of you.

tomas felt a bit strange getting petted by you, but it somehow felt really good.

"i was waiting for someone, but he never came..." you sighed. "this place is about to close. maybe you can accompany me while i walk home?"

tomas didn't hesitate to walk beside you, but he couldn't help but feel extremely guilty for wasting your time. he'll find a way to make up for it.

-

"i know he's a busy guy, but wouldn't he know if he couldn't make it today? i kind of got myself all dressed up for nothing.." you admitted, opening up to the loyal dog that never strayed from your side throughout your walk.

tomas's heart broke when he heard how you felt. if only he was human at that moment, he would've been apologizing profusely and trying to make you feel better.

"i really, really like him. i think he's so kind, fun, and he has always cared about me. i was so excited to go on this date with him, because i thought that maybe it was a sign that he liked me back. i'm trying to stay positive and hope that he was probably just busy, but what if he just doesn't actually care about me?" you sighed.

tomas whimpered in response, feeling extremely guilty about hurting you. he never meant to make you feel that way.

"i don't know if you are sad for me or if you're just hungry.. but you're a good listener. you remind me a lot of tomas..." you mumbled, feeling appreciated by your little companion.

-

once you arrived to your house, tomas felt very creepy. he was walking around your bedroom, looking at the little trinkets you have and sniffing around. he couldn't help it, it's like he had an instinct to snoop around your living space now that he was a dog.

"i'm really tired... stay here, and i'll find you some kind of blanket to sleep on. i have to put on my pyjamas first, though." you said, silently regretting that you wasted such a good outfit to be stood up.

when you returned to tomas, he was still sitting in your bedroom and patiently waiting. you laid out a blanket for him, and then you crawled into your own bed.

"goodnight. hopefully i can find your owner tomorrow, if you have one. even though you probably can't understand me and i'm just talking to myself.." you mumbled, rolling over and going to sleep.

tomas tried to think of a way to make it up to you when he was human again. he felt so guilty for hurting you. he hoped you didn't lose feelings for him, it would make him feel even worse if you did.

-

the next morning, you woke up and you were expecting to see the same golden retriever from last night sleeping on the floor.

instead, you looked down and saw tomas himself peacefully asleep on your floor, wearing nothing but a blanket over his privates.

you immediately pinched yourself. this had to be a dream. you had so many questions. what happened with the dog? did tomas break in while you were sleeping?

"tomas?" you whispered.

he slowly opened his eyes, and he let out a sigh of relief as soon as he saw he had his regular body back.

but that sense of accomplishment faded as soon as he noticed that he was pretty much naked on your bedroom floor.

"good morning..." tomas greeted awkwardly.

"good morning." you replied, trying to look respectfully.

you both stood in awkward silence for a solid minute before you finally spoke up.

"so.. what brings you here... naked...?" you asked.

tomas blushed. "well..."

-

"so.. you were the dog from last night?" you questioned.

"yeah. i'm sorry for uh.. you know, turning into a dog and accidentally leaving you alone on that date." tomas apologized.

"did you hear everything i said last night?" you said quietly, embarrassed that you practically poured your heart out to him without knowing it.

"i did. i am still so sorry that i hurt you. i'll make it up to you, i promise. i'll take you out for dinner again, but i'll show up this time. and i'll pay the bill!" he offered.

hell yeah, free food. who could resist that? you instantly agreed to his offer and you had hope that the date would go well this time, and then maybe you two can become something more.

"great! i'll go get ready right now!"

"tomas, you have hours to get ready, there is no need to rush. and you're still naked, by the way." you sighed.

[oofthwoods]

VICIOUS! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: arthur leclerc likes a certain type of woman: smart, neglects intuition, and not as good as him.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: set in 2021, during echo's formula 3 season. they're both jerks to each other here :/ based on vicious by sabrina carpenter (emails i cant send pretty much defines their relationship). this is short but it's important for her future relationship with a certain someone | i used echo instead of y/n here, but tell me which one you prefer

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 2.09k

"I TRIED TO LOOK FOR THE BEST IN THE WORST BUT LIKE, FUCK ME, THAT CAUSED A COMMOTION."

As the evening progresses in Austria, the bustling noises of the city begin to fade into the background, replaced by the occasional murmur of distant conversations and the gentle swish of car tires on the damp pavement. The scent of rain lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of pine carried by a cool breeze from the nearby mountains. The warmth of the day still lingers, but it's now more tolerable, just a faint reminder of earlier heat.

Arthur paces back and forth on the soft carpet beneath his bare feet, his footsteps creating a restless rhythm that echoes in his mind. Every so often, he runs his fingers along the curtains, feeling the delicate and cool fabric against his skin. But it's as if he's only scratching at the surface of the problem consuming him.

The third stage of the Formula 3 championship went off without a hitch for the three races. Arthur claimed the fastest lap in the second race, while Y/N took home first place in that same race. Prema and Art teams were locked in a heated competition for points during the first half of the championship, with the French team ultimately taking the lead after Frederik Vesti's win at the last race in the Red Bull Ring.

Throughout that weekend, Arthur barely spoke to her. Despite being swamped with commitments such as hectic meetings, exhaustive tests, and endless interviews, they used to make an effort to connect even if it was just a quick call. However, her messages were always met with prolonged periods of silence before receiving a brief and unenthusiastic response, leaving her feeling confused and frustrated. Every attempt to call resulted in reaching voicemail without any explanation or apology for his absence.

Despite her victory in the second race, he was not one of the people who congratulated her. He also did not attend the podium ceremony for the third race, where she secured an important second place for her team. She had sent him messages, but he only responded with a short "thank you" for her congratulations on earning extra points for setting the fastest lap. He completely ignored her invitation to join her and some other drivers in a celebration.

She finally couldn't take the silence any longer and broke it with frustration. "Can we at least talk? We're not kids anymore, Arthur," she said, sitting on his cluttered bed.

"Are you leaving for France tomorrow?" Arthur asked quietly, still refusing to look at her as he packed his suitcase.

"No. Fernando wants me to go to Madrid and then Silverstone with him during my break. The team doesn't need me at the factory, so I have some free time," Y/N replied with a heavy sigh, feeling the tension between them.

She received only a grunt as a response, which was enough for her to know that it was time to speak up. "Are you going to turn around and actually use words, or are you going to keep grunting like some kind of primitive?" Her voice held a mix of determination and disappointment, reflecting her growing frustration with the lack of communication between them.

Arthur spun on his heels and made his way slowly towards Y/N, his face betraying a medley of conflicting emotions. She stood up from the bed, keeping a close eye on his expression in anticipation of what might happen next.

Their relationship was still new; they had met at a party thrown by a mutual friend who was also one of her teammates. That night, everything seemed to align perfectly for their chance encounter, and the initial spark of attraction quickly grew into something more profound. Through casual touches, shared smiles, and intimate conversations about their interests and preferences, they were building the fragile yet promising foundations of their relationship.

He paused, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the perfect words to express himself. She watched with curiosity, waiting for him to speak.

"Why didn't you let me overtake you?" Arthur asked, sounding unsure.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows, trying to comprehend his question. She repeated it in her head, trying to understand the underlying meaning. "What do you mean?"

Arthur seemed annoyed by her confusion and scrunched his face in response. "In yesterday's race. I was right behind you, but you wouldn't move out of the way."

Her arms automatically crossed in front of her chest, her tone becoming defensive. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "Why should I let you pass, Arthur? I don't remember breaking any rules to earn my spot."

Arthur released a frustrated sigh, feeling the tension between them escalating with each word they exchanged. He closed the distance between them, hoping to find some understanding in her eyes.

"I'm not accusing you of breaking any rules, cherie." His tone softened, attempting to diffuse the situation. "I just want to know why you didn't make room for me to pass. It seemed like you were intentionally blocking me."

Y/N felt the weight of Arthur's words as an accusation, and it only added to her growing frustration. She couldn't believe they were having this argument now, when there was so much at stake for both of them.

"Of course I was blocking you! We're competitors, remember?" Her voice was firm, but she laced it with a confused laugh. "My team needs those points. I need those points. Why would I let you have them?"

Arthur took a step back, caught off guard by the intensity of Y/N's response. He looked both surprised and disappointed, struggling to process her strong emotions.

"I just thought you would understand," he muttered, his voice trailing off as if he regretted speaking at all. Unable to meet her gaze, he turned away.

She felt a surge of anger within her, a mix of frustration and sadness. She was taken aback that Arthur would question her integrity on the track, especially considering their intimate relationship off of it.

"Understand?" She repeated, each word dripping with disbelief. "Arthur, I want that title just as much as you do. It's not my responsibility to make it easy for you or anyone else. You know that."

There was a tense moment of silence between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the feeling that something was unraveling between them, something that might never be fully repaired.

"I know," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of weakness. "But I thought we were more than just competitors."

Her expression softened briefly, a flicker of sadness crossing her features before she steeled herself with determination.

"Arthur, I can't sacrifice my career for our relationship," she said, her voice softening slightly. "We both knew what we were getting into when we started dating."

Arthur's voice turned defensive as he tried to justify his actions. "Don't you think it would have been better if I had won?" He glanced at his girlfriend, his eyes pleading for understanding. "You're still new to this category; there will be other chances for you."

She raised her eyebrows, her gaze unwavering and intense. "So, you're saying it would be acceptable for me to lose simply because I'm a rookie?" Her tone was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air.

Arthur paused, searching for the right words to explain himself. "No, that's not what I meant," he stammered, but Y/N cut him off.

"Did you give the same speech to all the other rookies too?" her sarcasm evident.

Arthur's discomfort flickered across his face before he turned back to meet her unwavering stare. "The other rookies aren't in a relationship with me," he retorted with a hint of harshness.

Y/N fell silent, digesting his words. Then, she stepped closer to him, locking eyes with determination.

"Tell me honestly, Arthur," she began calmly yet emotion thick in her voice. "Did you want me to let you win because I'm a rookie or because I'm your girlfriend?"

Her question hit Arthur like a punch to the gut, leaving him struggling to find the right words. He couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"I…I'm not sure," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as uncertainty and vulnerability seeped through. "Maybe it's a bit of both."

Her expression hardened, her eyes showing disappointment and frustration in equal measure. She had expected more from him, hoped that he would acknowledge his own flaws and confront them head-on.

"So you don't trust me as a competitor, as a driver?" she asked, her voice betraying a slight tremor of emotion that she was trying to contain.

Arthur's heart raced as he met her intense gaze. He knew his words had hurt her and shattered the trust she had in him.

"That's not what I meant, cherie." He struggled to find the right words, but they sounded hollow even to his own ears. "It's just…I don't know how to handle the fact that you're better than me."

She was filled with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to tell him that his insecurities were not her responsibility and she couldn't sacrifice her own ambitions for his approval. But at the same time, she felt a twinge of empathy for him, understanding that his insecurity came from a place of deep vulnerability.

"Arthur, I can't change who I am because of your doubts," she said firmly. "And I won't apologize for excelling at what I do."

Arthur's voice took on a smooth, almost patronizing tone, a subtle edge of superiority laced within his words. "You must be feeling quite pleased with yourself, wouldn't you agree?" he mused, his tone carrying a delicate sting. "Stepping onto the stage as a rookie and quickly grabbing the spotlight. Impressive, definitely, but experience and dedication? Those are qualities that develop over time, babe."

Her brow furrowed slightly, a mix of disbelief and hurt flickering across her features. "I just want us to understand each other," she started, her tone gentle yet resolute. "I'm not trying to belittle what you've achieved. But it's not about placing blame. If you truly have the experience and talent you speak of, shouldn't overtaking me come as second nature, without needing to ask?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed with a sudden surge of anger, the tension between them palpable. "You underestimate what it takes to rise to the top," he retorted sharply, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Talent is one thing, but true success in this realm requires more than just skill. Experience is the key that sets winners apart from the rest."

Her eyes narrowed subtly, a flicker of impatience dancing within them. "What makes you assume I lack dedication and experience?" she questioned calmly, her tone holding a hint of challenge. "Just because my journey in this sport hasn't been as long as yours doesn't diminish the effort I've put in."

Arthur emitted a dry chuckle, his resentment barely concealed. "You've had quite the advantageous start, haven't you?" he remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You believe your familial connections and wealth entitle you to success? Reality doesn't operate on such privileges."

Her hands tightened into fists, a surge of defiance coursing through her. She refused to let his patronizing remarks undermine her accomplishments. Her voice remained composed yet firm, slicing through the tension. "Privileges? It's ironic coming from someone who's thrived under their brother's shadow," she countered, her gaze ablaze with determination. "You stand there, relying on your average talent to compensate for the countless doors opened by your surname."

Arthur's complexion deepened with a flush, a blend of shame and anger twisting his expression. He despised the constant comparisons to his brother, weary of residing in his sibling's imposing shadow. This resentment fueled his determination to establish his identity.

"I'm not my brother," he snapped with intensity.

She met his gaze steadily, her defiance unyielding. "No, you're not. And that's the problem," she countered sharply, her tone slicing through the air.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, the air crackling with unspoken animosity as they stood facing each other. Her eyes burned with fury, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. She was done playing nice.

"I'm not carrying anyone's burdens," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "I have my own stuff to deal with. You don't like the fact that your girlfriend is better than you? Consider this problem solved."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley , @stinkyjax , @namgification , @judespoision , @cha-hot , @disneyprincemuke , @itsjustkhaos , @trouble-sistar , @ihateyougunthersteiner , @treehouse-mouse , @cherry-piee , @fangirl125reader , @cassie0sstuff, @be-your-coffee-pot , @elijahslover , @flannelforthetoads , @m0cha-bunny , @ironmaiden1313 , @glitterquadricorn , @spideybv28 , @celesteblack08 , @thatgirlthatreadswattpad , @itscrzy, @canihavemyhoodieback , @eugene-emt-roe

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓞𝓵𝓸𝓻 [Final]

It's time.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Size difference, sci-fi, Romance, strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive, smut, unprotected because this is alien fantasy, kinda creampie idk

Length: 5.5k words

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A/N: I hate how it turned out but you all always beg me to finish my shit so here you go.

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Jungkook watches fondly from the large windows of his main office at the castle how you feed the still unsteady animal out in the large gardens where it's home is placed, while Hoseok, one of his closest guards and advisors, watches you from close by. 

The man has been tasked to basically watch over you when the king himself can't, and he takes his job very seriously, visibly- much to Jungkook’s approval. 

"I heard that she was crying last night." Namjoon says, walking up behind the king who nods. 

"Bitterly so." He admits, remembering the incident from hours prior when you'd sat close to the being as it passed, Jungkook offering you silent comfort. He wasn't sure why you were so upset- and why you even demanded to stay even though the situation had caused you so much distress. "She cared a lot for a being she used to be afraid of." He says. 

Last night, Ikkan rebirthed. You had given the Is'oi a name after asking Namjoon for help to choose an appropriate one- settling for one that means 'deep blue' in native language. You had just gone out to 'say goodnight' to the being you'd played around with the entire day, just to call out Jungkook's name in clear distress, causing the King to instantly rush to you, fearing something might've happened. But instead, he found you, on your knees in front of the being you used to be so wary of- it's body clearly stiffening now in it's laying position, head barely moving anymore as it's eyes watched you with fondness. The glow had dimmed significantly, as the first scales fell from it's body, rotting like a flower that wilts away as it reached it's end. 

He'd told you, reminded you that the being will be reborn tonight as well- but you still did not stop crying as you ran your hand over their head, offering comfort for what usually is left to the quiet of night. But Jungkook could not bring himself to tell you to leave, couldn't take that moment from you- going against his own culture to instead stay that night, watching the whole process for the first time as well. 

And he could've sworn, he heard the large being purr, leaning against you as they rested their head in your lap, falling asleep one last time before Ikkan's chest no longer moved. And then, with no life left, they began to wilt away, body falling apart as they dissipated into nothing but ashes it looked like. 

Until something moved. 

Your eyes were wide as you watched the small, still somewhat blind being cry out into the night- but this time, their cries were being answered by a kind hand reaching out, softly brushing away the remnants of their last life. And Jungkook had felt a certain sense of pain in his heart he could not describe as you showed just how nurturing you are to things not even remotely resembling your own kind. 

How would you be as a mother? 

"She's a kind one." Namjoon agrees, pulling him out of his thoughts and memories. "Maybe a bit too kind." The advisor and doctor worries a bit. 

"That won't be an issue." Jungkook shakes his head. "She's got me at her side." He exclaims, gaze softening quite a bit as you hold the bottle of nutrient feed up for the young rebirthed being to drink from. He's almost a bit jealous- you're spending a lot of time outside now, far away from him. He'll walk down to you soon though, wondering how you can not be cold with just your regular gowns on your body. 

You're fragile. You get sick so easily. 

"And yet there is no true claim on her yet." His friend teases, making Jungkook turn his head to glare at him. "You cannot be mad at me for pointing it out. It's painfully obvious to everyone- in fact, there's rumours already spreading." He says, and that catches Jungkook's full attention now. He doesn't like people talking negatively about you. You don't deserve to be spoken down to, especially not as a future queen, once he brings you officially into that job. 

"And what, pray tell, are those rumours about?" He asks, eyes sharpening. 

"That she is incapable of.. providing you." Namjoon teases, and Jungkook sighs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms, watching you in the gardens again instead. "How come? You had been very quick to connect with Hana." He asks, and Jungkook's gaze hardens. 

"Because she practically demanded it." He growls. "It was necessary for her.. happiness, or at least that's what I believed, back then." He lowly says. 

"And she does not want it?" Namjoon wonders. "Curious. Even though humans are such intimate creatures." he hums, standing next to Jungkook again. 

"Oh she does. It's very clear in her behaviour." Jungkook almost smirks. "Her body is calling out to me almost every night." He admits. 

"So?" His friend asks. "Why not take her then?" He questions, before he notices the deep thought in Jungkook's face. "You're worried." 

"I am." The king admits. 

"About what?" Namjoon wonders. 

"I believe it is clear what I could possibly worry about, Namjoon." He says, looking at his friend. "You as a man with medical knowledge should know that more than anyone. Or are you not familiar with human anatomy compared to ours?" He almost teases, making Namjoon laugh. 

"Oh I am aware!" He laughs. "Which is why I can tell you, that she will be just fine." He reassures. 

"I was too much for even Hana." He reminds his friend. "Which is most likely why she searched for.. satisfaction somewhere else." He mumbles lowly to himself, averting his gaze. 

"So you'll give up before even trying?" Namjoon clicks his tongue. "Ah well. I may be able to ask Jimin if he's up for the job then. Considering how humans connect love with intercourse-" He starts, making Jungkook instantly move to grab his arm, twisting it around as he backs Namjoon into a wall. 

"You will not even think about such a thing." He growls. 

"Then what?" Namjoon challenges. "You'll just leaver her lonely? Put your new love on the line just because you're a coward?" He asks, making Jungkook clench his jaw, eyes glowing for a second while his veins darken underneath his skin. 

But he behaves himself, forces control, and lets go of Namjoon. 

"You're right." He settles himself. "I should not.. think of her so lowly." He sighs, swallowing down his bubbling rage. 

"Talk to her." Namjoon says gently. "I'm sure she'll understand where you're coming from if you just explain it to her." 

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"Breathtaking." Jungkook comments, as you turn your heads while the maids bow at him, who leans against the doorframe, watching them help you dress and connect the chains over your body with decorative pliers. The chains hold jewels that sound like a windchime almost, a sound you've come to enjoy a lot. 

As soon as the maids are done, they walk out, looking very much caught off guard and even quite shy at the soft 'thank you' Jungkook offers them as they pass him, something that's not common in his culture. As soon as the door closes, he walks towards you with a gentle smile, his own clothes looking expensive, and official. "You look just like the queen you are." He muses, and you laugh. 

"About to be." You correct him, leaning into the hand on your cheek. "I'm a bit nervous." You admit, and he smirks. 

"You are very nervous, my dear. Not just 'a bit'." He corrects as well, and your shoulders slump down as you admit defeat. "Do not worry. I'm there, and the people are already very fond of you and the changes you brought." He admits. 

"Changes?" You wonder. "But I've done nothing." You ask him, confused. 

"You did." He nods. "You changed me. And with that, you changed the way I rule this kingdom." He explains, as he adjusts your dress for you, fingers tracing the delicate jewelry decorating your body. 

"What if they think you're weak now?" You worry instantly, and he shakes his head, smile never leaving his lips. 

"They do not." He shakes his head. "A King is strongest with his people's trust placed in him. You'll see what I mean later." He offers, before he makes sure to adjust the soft pelt around your shoulders now to keep you warm. 

As you both make your way through the halls, you wonder. You've never actually been in the town surrounding the castle grounds, only ever saw some of the outskirts and farmlands from afar. But today, you'll make your way into town- to show yourself to the people, your first official 'showing', as Jungkook had explained. It's a first- even with Hana, he's never shown her publicly like this. But with you, he wants to make that step. 

He's serious about you, and your future. He's proving that today. 

And the first glimpses of the town makes you realize what Jungkook had been talking about- because as soon as he's visibly to the people, they smile, wave, children run to him with opened palms as if to wait to receive something. And Jungkook does give something- his own hand brushing over their palms, a gesture that makes them smile and laugh in excitement. "It's a blessing." Hoseok mumbles from your other side, the man keeping his hand on his sword at his belt. "So that their work will always be fruitful." He explains, and you listen to it at full attention, when Jungkook laughs next to you, making you look at him- his eyes looking down at something. 

Two children, young boys looking at you with dark red eyes and cat-like pupils similar to Jungkook's, hands opened towards you. You're a bit lost now, unsure what to do- so the king next to you takes your hand in his, and offers you guidance in how to do it- your fingers running over the warm palms of the two kids, who grin and laugh happily, before running back to their parents in the crowd gathered on the sides. 

You repeat this action time after time, growing more comfortable and mostly confident in yourself the more you walk around in town, letting Jungkook explain to you where he grew up, showing you taverns and other places he remembers visiting often. It makes you remember that at some point, Jungkook was not considered royalty at all- just a regular young man, a boy, a child at some point, nothing out of the ordinary. And now, he's done what he said he would- he challenged the king, took the throne, and changed the ways that used to be the norm. Not just by taking you as his partner- but also in other ways. 

As you sit in one of the bigger taverns, you can't help but watch with a constant smile how the people celebrate Jungkook almost, dancing around and drinking, though the King seems to stay away from the alcohol, for a reason you're not sure of. "Can she drink?" A young man asks, setting down another pitcher with water onto your table you sit at. "I apologize, I don't know much about humans." He apologizes. 

"She can, but she shall not tonight." Jungkook answers for you. "I'd hate for her to too intoxicated to survive the way home." He chuckles, making everyone laugh, including you. You already know that you can't handle any of the liquor on this planet- something you realized way before you even met Jungkook in the first place. 

"Oh, then I won't offer any!" The man says, bowing politely before he leaves you be. Jungkook keeps his arm around you, always makes sure that you're comfortable, noticing how the trip is taking a toll on you. For him, this isn't stressful at all- but you have a lot less energy than him to spend. So he's not surprised when he notices you trying to hide your yawns multiple times as soon as it gets dark outside, eyes growing heavy as you listen to the music played. 

"You are so bewitching, you know that?" Jungkook teases, causing you to force yourself more awake again, looking at him in question. "I can sense the... nature of the gazes on you." He offers, a hand moving some of your hair out of your face. 

"How fortunate for you that I'm not going home with any of them, then." You say, making him laugh openly. 

"You're very right on that." He agrees. "And I believe we should head back now." Jungkook says, making you shake your head though. 

"No, just a little longer." You complain, causing the king to chuckle. 

"You are literally on the very edge of sleep, darling." He teases. "And I do not feel comfortable with having you in such a vulnerable state outside the castle walls, in front of people who should not see you that way." He gently says, nodding towards Hoseok to gather all the guards and knights to prepare for the journey back home. And god, does the way home drag. 

You're barely able to somewhat make it back into the entrance hall of the large castle structure when Jungkook finally offers his help, carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom he shares with you. "You are so very fragile, my love." He teases you with a smile, helping you out of your jewelry and dress while you're almost falling asleep. "Did you enjoy it?" 

"I did." You smile. "It was.. really fun. Even though I didn't really know what to do most of the time.." You mumble while Jungkook unravels your dress to help you out of it. 

"You did great nonetheless." He reassures you, placing a kiss to your cheek. "You deserve to rest now." 

And rest you do- falling asleep before he can even come to bed himself. 

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The next day when you wake up and stretch your limbs, it's already way past the morning hours. A window is opened, letting in fresh air, familiar sharp crow sounds of the large predatory birds outside by now no longer a cause of fear for you. It's as if they've become familiar with you now- no longer trying to feast on you, instead only sometimes curiously poking their heads inside the room to observe you. 

"You slept for ages." Jungkook chuckles next to you, making you turn in surprise. Usually, the king is gone before you wake up- it's unusual to have him beside you like this, eyes still wary from his own rest. 

"It was a pretty eventful day yesterday." You defend yourself, and he nods, moving forward to kiss your lips. It's a gentle gesture, oddly slow, as if he's putting a lot of thought into it. "How come you're still in bed?" You ask, and he watches you for a moment, before he answers. 

"I've been thinking." He admits, head leaning on his palm, elbow pushed into the bed below. His upper body is bare as usual in bed- but it's still a rather rare sight for you considering you typically don't spend moments like these together often. "About us. And our.. differences." He hums, while your eyes notice the scars he has- one of them right on top of his shoulder. 

"Oh." You nod, unsure what he means. 

"These past few days.. even longer than that.. there's been tension, hasn't it?" He asks, reaching out to move some hair from your face. "Sexual in nature, that is." He explains further, and you nod, eyes no longer able to stand his gaze now as you become a bit shy. Of course he’s able to speak about it a lot more open and boldly than you ever would be able to. 

"I uhm.. yeah." You nod, remembering that moment you almost went that far- but he's never done anything further than playing around with you. "Is there.. a problem?" You ask, and he waits for a moment to answer. 

"I'm not sure." He admits. "I have spoken to Namjoon about our obvious differences. And if we could make it work." He tells you. "But I'm worried nonetheless. I don't want to hurt you- but I am also aware of your growing frustration with me." He offers. 

"I- its not like that!" You defend yourself immediately. "If you don't want to, you know, have sex with me, that's fine. I don't need it to be happy with you." You reassure him, and he smiles kindly. 

"I know." He nods. "But do trust me that my lust for you is very real, and unbearable these days." He admits. "Even right now." 

At that, you move, boldly so, seemingly catching even him off guard as he holds your waist, while you sit on his thighs. His gaze is heated, red in his eyes clearly telling you how much his control is challenged in this moment, as you place your hands on his abdomen. "Then what if you just trust me instead?" You wonder, while he watches you. "Give up control for once?" You ask. 

"And you believe you can control a king?" He asks, challenges almost, as he very obviously stirs to live inside his underwear. "Very bold words." He smiles, though his worry does not leave his eyes at all as it returns full force, face becoming serious again. 

"What's the problem?" You ask, feeling his hands run over your skin to your legs. "What are you so scared of?" You press, and he sighs. 

"Hurting you." He reveals. "Losing you." 

"Why would you lose me?" You ask, unsure. 

"Because humans connect love with physical intimacy." He says. "And so does my kind. It's an important part of a partnership, and if I fail at providing you with the appropriate attention you deserve, I fear that I'm not valuable enough as a lover to you." He admits. 

"Even if we can't have sex, I'll still stay with you." You shake your head, moving to sit next to him now, hand reaching out to hold his. "Love is more than just that to me. And I love you." You argue. "No matter your strength, or your status, or your worth. You've got worth to me no matter what." You confess. 

And at that confession, he breaks. 

The moment he sits up to lean closer to you to be able to kiss you with a hand on your cheek, you know that he won't stop this time. "You're so dangerous." He growls, hands uncaring of the fabric covering you as he pulls the gown over your head, revealing your almost entirely bare body to him.  

It's time, and he knows it. 

You've become much more to him than just a partner- you've become a lifeline, a reason to think over his challenges and dangers he faces in the choices he makes, just so he can stay alive and at your side. He would burn down the world for you, if it meant that it would keep you safe from all harm. 

His kisses are heated, desperate, quite literally stealing your breath as he moves to mouth and bite at the skin of your neck and shoulder. He's noticeably not a gentle lover- he wants to make sure that his love is visible on your skin, needs to see the remnants of his lust for days to come. And with his control finally snapping, he will not hold back- he will test your strength for a final time, and devour you whole. 

He wants to watch you bloom- wants to see your petals open to reveal the most beautiful flower created by simple chance on a planet so far away from his own. And yet, this flower was meant for him- to be kept forever, to have it plant it's roots into his heart so it can feed off his love until he dies and cannot provide any longer. 

Only then he will set you free again. Only then will he accept defeat. 

Your back arches into him as his hands adjust your position, laying you down once more beneath him, pulling off your underwear to reveal everything, soiled fabric thrown carelessly away. He's played around with you before, that's how far you've come at this point- but never quite past that. Something always kept him from giving you what you were yearning for- but this time, he's granting you your wish. 

When he met you, truly face to face, it had been nothing but pure curiosity. He wanted to see what's so special about the human kind that others have such drastically varying opinions on them. Why one seems to fear them, while the other hates them. 

He does neither. 

You're not a being he has to fear, neither physically nor emotionally.  

When you say you love him you mean it. When you're close to him you simply crave his company. When you ask him how he feels you're genuinely interested in his emotions. You've always been nothing but open and honest with him, had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. And yet even when given full freedom to do as you please and leave him if you wanted to, you stayed. Because you wanted to. 

No words are exchanged as he sheds his clothes as well, leaving both of you bare beneath the silk covers of the bed you two share. "Are you cold, darling?" He asks, whispers almost with how close he is, in a way that gives away his amusement over your squirming body underneath his hands. You shake your head. He grins. "No?" He asks for you to confirm, and you do. "And yet your body is trembling. I wonder why.." He hums over your skin. 

"Because you're torturing me!" You whine in complaint, turning to the side- something he does not approve of, as he grabs your hips to instead turn you over entirely, a strange tenderness in his rather rough manner of handling you into a new position. Like a predator warning, growling down your neck, but never slipping in his control, never actually making the kill. "You know, usually, this is how I'd take you.." He explains, and you push back into him at that, impatient, or maybe even quietly begging. You really don't care how he does it. Just that he does it. "..but I cannot. Not with you." He tells you, kissing the line of your spine from your neck down, before he lets you turn over once move to face him. 

"Why not?" You ask, and he simply smiles, hands running down your sides until they meet your hips. 

"Because I cannot see your face." He simply answers, before he leans over you to kiss you again. By now, it's evident that without even touching you, you're more than ready to take him on, body inviting him in every way it can- and this time, he can't hold back even if he wanted to. 

You've waited long enough. 

"And I want to savour this experience, and all that you'll offer me." He hums against your skin. "...as I claim you as mine for now and forever."

You're not used to.. sex being this big of a deal. But it's obvious to you that Jungkook sees this as more than just an act of simple lust and satisfaction, if the way he kisses down your chest to your belly button is anything to go by. He didn't lie when he said he'd savour it- he's going terribly slow.  

"Jungkook please... I want you.. " you beg, and he smirks like the predator he is, faking innocence.  

"Oh but you have me right here, my love?" He says, leaning his head on the bare skin of your hip for a second. "I'm not going anywhere." He teases.  

Well- that's the problem. 

"I want you to focus just on yourself." He suddenly says rather seriously. "No matter what." He adds, and you nod, unsure what he means by this. Satisfied by your answer however he moves back up, hovering over you while his hand feels you up between your legs. You're more than ready by now, inner thighs slick with your arousal, and it makes his already leaking length move a little at the feel of it all. Could you handle him if he really was to let go and chase his own pleasure?  

Will you handle him in any way at all?  

You're not her, and he reminds himself of that as he pushes himself inside your body, core warm and welcoming towards him despite the obvious stretch you have to go through to accommodate him. He's worried you might not be able to transform enough- but you surprise him, as you always do.  

Inch by inch he slowly claims your body, waiting for the sign to stop- but you seem rather eager to take him in, never showing signs of discomfort at all. In fact, you look rather pleased- eyes closed, head laid back into the soft pillows below, hands holding his. He can see the slight bulge forming on your lower stomach, showing faintly where he is, and it makes him lust for you in ways that make him worry he might be going feral.  

He's pressing himself against you now, wet sound escaping your cunt as he realizes there's nothing left of him to give you, your eyes hooded just like his as he slowly retracts himself, just to enter you again much faster than before.  

The gasp that leaves him can't be controlled. Neither do you hide your own reaction, mouth opening silently in pleasure as you arch your back.  

He wants to see it again, so he moves his hips once more, once more, steady pace, causing your body to rock along, chest swaying as if to hypnotize the king. There's no need for foul play like that however- he's already under your spell, no need for any kind of assistance.  

"Your body was truly made for me.." he whispers into your neck as he continues his pace, holding himself back from snapping, keeping your well-being in mind.  

"Please-" you whine breathlessly, and he eagerly leans in to kiss your neck, bite at it, mark you up for days to come.  

"What is it you want?" He asks just as faintly, never losing track of his pace.  

"Don't hold back." You say, eyes meeting his own. "Take me, my King."

"I'm yours."  

He can't help the way his patience snaps, thrusts now deeper than ever as he pushes himself as far as he can with every move of his hips, kisses heated, burning, forever imprinting his love on you as he presses his hands into the bed below you, pace quickening. "I'll make the entire kingdom know." He growls against your lips as his hips snap against yours I'm a ruthless manner. "I'll have them all hear you come undone under my hand, just so they know-" He presses out between clenched teeth. "That you're mine, and that I'm yours."  

Your legs move to wrap around his body as best as you can manage, your hands on his back as they accidentally scratch his skin faintly, his own hands grabbing roughly at your flesh to keep you still as he ruts into you, for the first time actually chasing his own release.  

He need to fill you up, have his seed forever mark you up with his scent until it spills out of you. He's desperate at the prospect of finally gaining fulfillment in a way he's not managed to achieve before- a kind of high currently blurring up his thoughts as he feels himself getting lost in the scent and taste and feeling of your body.  

You're a drug, and he's happily willingly getting addicted.  

Your legs suddenly quiver as you find your own peak way sooner than he does, and he doesn't mind one bit seeing you come undone beneath him like this. A goddess in his eyes, gracing him with a heavenly touch, as he slows down, and slips out to see your core gaping from the stretch, clenching around nothing.  

But you're not done with him, as he gets a taste of what you're capable of in the eyes of lust.  

Your hands pull his face back towards you, your kiss a siren song clouding his mind once more as he falls into your spell, chasing his own high like a man starving.  

And he is. He has been for way too long.  

The moment he actually reaches his end you move your hand between the both of you to help yourself to another high as well, clenching core making him groan out in pure pleasure as he spills his seed into you, much of it already leaking out your core as you lazily move to milk him for all he's got.  

His eyes have never looked so vibrant in color as he looks at you, visibly stunned.  

And as you smile, no trace of any sort of doubt or anything other than pure and passionate love, he realizes you've finally bloomed.  

Your bond falling into place, silently, as he kisses you once more.  

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"Come here, love." Jungkook says one day, as you walk into the throne room, nodding politely to Min Yoongi- who you know by now from the scar over his eye and rather withdrawn attitude. You're not sure why he's here- but if the King feels comfortable with his presence, you trust that he is no threat to you or him at all in this situation. Jungkook has got his back turned towards you for a good while, before he turns, something held in his arms covered by cloth and golden jewels. "It is a gift from him to you." He says, as you move the delicate cloth of whatever he's holding in his arms, satin with finely woven golden patterns.  

The small being opens its eyes slowly, before it raises its head- dog like creature visibly studying your face as Min Yoongi speaks.  

"It is a gift sent with the most well wishes from my betrothed." He clarifies, as the white dog like being moves his head to inspect your hand held out to him, it’s fur so short that it feels more like velvet than anything else.  You’re mesmerized by the puppy, before Yoongi looks almost annoyed. "...and it has also been.. Sent from me as well." he mumbles, as if he's forced to admit that part. "His name shall be for you to choose." 

Jungkook laughs to himself as he sets the small being down, the white and lanky body shaking before it sniffs at your legs, tail wagging wildly. The young puppy is obviously still rather unsteady on his long legs, but he appears to figure out quickly that you're his main person from now on.  

"Thank you." You tell the rather grumpy looking King with a smile, and you could swear he even returns it-  

somewhat.  

"He'll grow into a proper guard if well trained." Yoongi explains with his gaze set on Jungkook, who nods. "...That is not just a statement." He mumbles, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.  

"I am aware." He bites back, and you can't help but smile at their brotherly bantering, long having gotten used to their more rough way of speaking to one another. Just like you've grown used to a lot of things on this planet-  

after all, you consider this home by now.  

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"Etka!" You call, as the dog like being runs on fast legs towards you, broad collar decorated with gems as he finds his place next to you, eagerly accepting your praise and affection.  

He's grown a lot these past few months- almost to full height, according to Jungkook. The haatra has his place in front of your shared quarters where he sleeps every night, guarding you both at your most vulnerable states.  

"Min Yoongi has invited us to the showing ceremony of his to-be queen." Jungkook says as you enter the bedroom after saying goodnight to your newest guardian outside the bedroom door.  

"I'm happy for him." You say, joining him to sit on his lap at the table near the window. "He sounded very happy last time we spoke."  

"He did not sound any different than usual to me, love." He shakes his head a little, before he leans in to kiss you. "But enough about him.. I have a different thing I'd like to indulge in than chatter about my brother." He offers you, who teasingly leans away from him, eyes falling to his lips.  

"Oh? I wonder what that might be.." you mumble, as he adjusts your position a bit, hands shamelessly traveling beneath your gown to feel the warmth of your skin. 

"Something that has no need for talking at all.." he hums against your lips, eyes hungry as he lusts for you with clear intentions.  

"And yet you surely won't be quiet." 

[httpswritings]

ALE(xia): Average Lesbian Experience — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: lesbophobia, having trouble accepting oneself, angst.

Word count: 1326

Summary: A lie almost breaks your friendship.

A/N: Two things; Both Alexia and Reader are 21 years old, so this is set in 2015. Also, in Spain you use the word tía as a way of saying sis, same thing as tio and the word dude in English.

“C'mon Ale! Don't be a coward!“

She smiled at you, shaking her head. “I'm not going there, tía.”

You approached her, reaching for her hand, as you tried to convince her to get into the sea. It was a sunny and warm day in Barcelona. You were all wet from crashing against the waves, as Alexia had been looking at you, laughing when you were surprised by a wave that would push you, making you swallow some water.

Alexia shook her head again.

“Ale...Please?” Alexia dragged you by your left arm, pulling you into her as she began tickling you. Her hands touching the bare skin of your stomach send shivers throughout your body.

Your playful game was interrupted by two boys around your age.

“You both seem to be enjoying the beach. Wanna have some good company?”

The boys were particularly looking at you.

Alexia felt anger filling every part of her body. She was aware of how in love she was with you, and she also knew that she had to pretend not to be, as she didn't want to scare you.

She accepted herself but couldn't help but feel gross at the thought of her loving you.

She looked at the two boys, who were asking for your number, and compared herself to them. Was she better for you than them? «Without any doubt» she thought. You denied both of their requests.

With a timid smile forming on her face, she felt victorious, even if she apparently didn't have any reason to be.

What Alexia didn't know is that you've been in love with her since high school.

Always admiring her from afar, even when she was the closest to you.

You had to learn how to not react to the physical attention she showed you.

When you saw the two boys getting interested in her and began to ask her questions like her age, where she lived, and finally asking for her number, you wanted nothing but to punch them in the face.

It wasn't envy; you didn't mind Alexia getting attention from people. It was a deeper feeling.

Alexia looked at you, but your eyes were fixated on the two boys, who were smiling and checking Alexia out, looking throughout her body, making you want to throw up.

“I'm not interested either; I'm sorry.”

Those words brought you to life, and you finally looked at her.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Your world fell apart right after hearing those words come out of her mouth.

The boys finally got a no for an answer and left.

You didn't realize they did, though.

“Are you alright? It's okay; they had already left.”

You couldn't look at Alexia properly.

The girl who had your heart had given hers to another person.

Your mind was so loud, despite you being so quiet. Not a word left your mouth after hearing Alexia's statement.

“You're worrying me. Please, answer me!”

You couldn't hold it anymore and eventually broke down crying.

Alexia hugged you, and you enjoyed your time in her embrace, knowing it'd be the closest you'd be to her.

“Did they scare you that much?“

Still no words.

“If you don't answer me, I'm going to call someone.”

Someone.

You don't know why, but that word triggered you to the point where you snapped.

“Someone? Like your boyfriend?”

Alexia laughed, and that broke your heart into more pieces, if that was even possible. Alexia thought you were teasing her, as she didn't think you had believed her to have a boyfriend, when it was just an excuse to get out of that previous situation.

“Alexia, I have to go home. I'm late.” You stood up quickly, as you couldn't bear the embarrassment you felt about yourself anymore.

Alexia grabbed you by your right arm, but you harshly shook her arm off you.

You heard her whine, and it was enough for you to stop and approach her.

No pain was worse than the slightest hurt to Alexia.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you gone mad?”

Alexia was hurting, but because of your actions, not because of a silly shake. You had changed the way you behaved towards her when, not even ten minutes ago, you were laughing and begging her to get into the sea with you.

She couldn't understand the way you were behaving.

“Listen, if it's because of the boys, I'm sorry that they've asked me out too, but I swear I didn't—”

“God, Alexia, why can't you see it? It's not because of those boys; it's because of a boy. Your boyfriend. When were you going to tell me that you were with someone?” Alexia tried to speak, but you didn't let her, as you kept ranting.

“You want to know why I'm like this? Because I'm in love with you. I thought I was okay with only being your friend, but when you said you had a boyfriend, I wanted to die. Yeah, it's that dramatic because I've loved you since high school in a way friends aren't supposed to love each other. I'm sorry if this hurts you, but I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend to be okay now that I know someone else is in your life. Because, as dumb as it sounds, I had a tiny hope of you being in love with me.”

 

Alexia jumped into your arms, not letting you pull out of the hug. “Please, let's stay like this for a few seconds. Please. Please.” and you gave up on the idea of getting out of her embrace and enjoying her warmth.

Alexia looked at you. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't seem sad but relieved.

“I don't have a boyfriend. I don't even like boys, silly. I like girls, especially one who's looking at me quite confused right now.”

You were shocked. Too much information in such a short time. “If I told them I had a boyfriend, it's because I knew they were going to back off. Men respect other men. If I told them I was a lesbian, they'd probably insist on going on a date with me because many of them believe that lesbians haven't found the right man. It's quite sad, but it's what they believe.”

 

You've been there too, so you get what Alexia means. Even if Spain were one of the most LGBT-friendly countries on earth, no one would be 100% safe, far less as a lesbian.

“So, you like me?” You said this as you looked down at your hands, needing confirmation of Alexia's feelings towards you.

“Yes. I've liked you since we met in high school, but I never said anything. I was scared of losing you, so I had to learn how to put my feelings aside. You didn't notice how in love I was—I am with you. But it hasn't been an easy task, especially when people would come at you and ask you out, like those boys before, but you always rejected them, no matter if they were boys or girls, so I was scared of being rejected too.”

“Why do you think I rejected them?” you asked, laughing.

“I know. Now I know...” Alexia laughed too.

“Maybe you should try now.”

“Not here.”

-

Alexia brought you to your old high school.

It was closed as it was mid-July.

“I should've done this here five years ago, but now that we both know how we feel, I wanted to ask you if you would give me the privilege of being your girlfriend.”

You smiled, and before jumping into her arms, you accepted.

Memories of you and Alexia in high school came to your mind.

Gossiping in class, drawing on each other's hands, helping each other with studies.

The love you two shared was always there; it just needed a little time and another place to flourish, and now that you were adults, you weren't scared anymore.

[thisonehere]

The Lin Kuei boys reacting to you saying you love them during sex

Mk1 Headcanons

C/w: NSFW (BOO, sex!), fluff, afab reader, emotions, smut with feelings, cuddling, trouble with communicating emotions, crying

Bi-Han

Bi-Han has never really been vocal about his feelings, especially towards you. He always viewed them as a weakness. But he is very fond of you... he possibly even lov-nope, he refuses to admit that.

Bi-Han came from a long day of fulfilling duty after duty, running around for Liu Kang, and arguing with his brothers. Now he was getting close to his favourite part of the day: you. Being on top of you to be precise.

He fights off a smile when he opens the door and sees you happily waiting to greet him. As per usual, you eat a meal you prepared, sit down, you talk (well, you're the one that's talking, he's just sitting there and staring at you. He finds your boring day very surprisingly interesting compared to the hectic schedule he has), and now was possibly the best part: the bedroom.

The night was going just like it usually did, you were underneath him, he was on top of you making you go crazy. With every stroke made you feel like you were closer and closer to heaven. You cried his name between breaths, he stayed silent as usual. Replying to you only through grunts and moans. But it was enough, he always was enough.

There have been feelings that have been forming inside you for quite some time, things that were never meant to be formed. This was supposed to just be a casual no-strings-attached fling for him, but to you it was everything. You kept your mouth shut out of fear of being rejected. But at some point, you can't take it anymore, "I love you!" you cry out abruptly.

And with that, Bi-Han suddenly stops his thrusting. He stays frozen there for quite a while, not responding, he just stares at you. "Bi-Han?" He stares at you. "I-" you try to explain, "Turn around and get on your stomach." he interrupts with this sudden demand.

For the rest of that time, Bi-Han has sex with you from behind, he seemingly refuses to look at your face. As you finish, Bi-Han quickly turns his back to you and lies down to go to sleep. Did you do something wrong? Does he not like you anymore? Oh, everything was going so well, why did you have to ruin it? You wonder as you stare at him for a few seconds. With a heavy heart, you lie down as well and go to sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Bi-Han turns over and looks at your face while you sleep. You love me? He thinks, Me? Why? How long?

When you first told him this, he didn't know what to do so he panicked. Sharing emotions was something he never wanted when starting this relationship. But he couldn't deny that he too started to feel things for you, he felt this way before that too. You made him feel things that he never felt before, things he never wanted to feel.

He is so frustrated. These feelings he has for you make him feel so weak. Yet you seemed so okay with displaying this weakness, why? Why are you so willing to be vulnerable with him? Why did he want to be so vulnerable with you? He so desperately wants to tell you everything he feels, he wants to tell you about his day, talk about his favourite books and movies, just talk to you.

He hesitates before moving closer to you. He stares at your face as if he's trying to find something. Finally, he reaches out to you and pulls you to hold you. He gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead and sighs. "I love you too, Y/n...more than anything..."

Kuai Liang

Unlike Bi-Han, Kuai never for a second hid his feelings for you. He adores you, words can't describe how dear you are to him. Yet he's never been sure where he stood with you. You were attentive and affectionate with him, but he wasn't sure if you felt like he did for you.

It was a long and tiring day, Kuai was relieved to finally be home. He smiled brightly when he saw you waiting for him at the door. He took you into his arms and warmly kissed you. As per usual, he didn't come empty-handed too, he came with a gift for you. Something thoughtful, something he knew you were eyeing for a while. Afterwards, you eat, he tells you about his day, and one thing leads to another and now you are in the bedroom.

Your legs are wrapped around him as you hang on for dear life. Sex with him was a cross between passionate lovemaking and fucking like wild animals. Your mind is numb as all you can process is his warmth and how he embraces you, how good he made you feel. Not just here in this moment, but in multiple other ways. How he doesn't hesitate to give you compliments, the way he listens to you no matter how absurd you feel your conversation is, and how he makes sure that you're okay.

You couldn't deny how much you love him, you cherish everything you have together. You always felt scared about telling Kuai how you felt, Bi-Han was so cold and heartless you feared Kuai would be just the same. But the time you spent with him changed your views a little, maybe you could tell him how you felt after all.

As Kuai continued his assault on your poor body. You felt feelings suddenly erupting inside, things that you tried to suppress. But you are not hiding it anymore, "I love you." you scream without thinking.

Kuai instantly slows down, he looks into your eyes. He smiles as his eyes melt and he stares at you. "I love you too." He says, the smile on his face getting bigger as he looks at you.

When all is finished, the two of you lay there in bed. Kuai still has a huge grin on his face as he holds you close. You telling him this made him feel amazing in ways he couldn't explain. You love me. That was all he could think about. His mind was racing with his possible future with you, the years you'll spend together, your wedding day, and the children he wanted to give you.

He pulls you in closer and tenderly kisses you. "I love you so much, Y/n. Marry me."

Tomas

Tomas is a very shy man when it comes to sharing his feelings with you. He loves you, so much that it hurts. But he can't say anything because of his insecurities. He fears that you don't love him and you are just with him because you pity him. He desperately wants to tell you how he feels, he wants to tell the whole world even. But he just can't.

When Tomas finally gets home, he is emotionally and mentally drained. Not only did he have to deal with important duties, but also with being dragged through the mud by Bi-Han. "You will never be Lin Kuei, Tomas. You will always be the little runt that my father took in out of pity." Tomas had been told this a million times, this wasn't new. And it burned him every time, he grew accustomed to fighting crying or else he would be mocked even more.

It got even worse with the next thing Bi-Han said. "Do you truly think Y/n will ever truly love you? Ha! Tomas, you are naive as you are a bastard." That hurt him on a level he never expected it could. This made him even more insecure, he loves you so much, and the idea of you feeling the same way broke his heart.

As he opens the door and finds you there waiting, he gives you a weak smile. You look down and see that he has brought flowers for you. They were your favourite, carefully gathered together and groomed just the way you like them. After that, you talk for some time, Tomas just sits there and stares at you. You ask what's wrong but he quickly changes the subject. The night goes on and before you know it, you both are naked in the bed.

It's funny, Tomas seems so innocent, like he doesn't know how to have sex nor does he know what it is. But you know for a fact that he fucks like no other, the man is a sex god. The way he was pounding made you feel that you wouldn't be able to walk for weeks. If that was the case, you weren't bothered because you knew that Tomas would be there to take care of you. He was always there for you, that's one of the things you like about him. Coupled with the fact that he is a gentle giant, in touch with his feelings and so easy to talk to.

You never really told Tomas how you felt out of fear that you moving too fast. But the longer you spent with him, the more you knew you were ready to tell him. You just needed to find the right chance. He made you so good that you couldn't wait anymore. "I love you." You say.

Tomas flinches and stops his stroking. His eyes grow wide. "Tomas?" Oh, no... Did you mess up, you think. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" But before you can finish, Tomas take you and kisses you. It is intense, you feel so many emotions and heat coursing through his body. He pulls away for a second, "D-do you mean it?" he asks a little unsure. You nod your head causing him to go back down and passionately kiss you again.

When all is finished Tomas turns his back to you. You didn't think much about this...until you heard a sniffling sound coming from him. Tomas felt overwhelmed by the affirmation of your devotion. He was filled with joy that you feel the same way he does, but at the same time, he still is worried. What if you were just saying that because you were in the heat of the moment? What if you don't feel the same way in the morning? He soon felt a rush of emotion, many good, some bad. It got so intense that he finally gave in and began to cry.

"Tomas, what's wrong?" He turns over to you, a smile on his face despite the tears. He reaches out and pulls you close, "It's nothing. I love you and... you love me. That's all that matters."

[tomriddleslove]

Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.