#i snorted reading these luna

[writingsbychlo]

KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle

summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.

word count; 7036

notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.

Dear Tom,

Tommy. 

My Tom. 

Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you. 

I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this. 

So here it is. 

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.

Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating. 

Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner. 

Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation. 

You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view. 

Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”

You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently. 

Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language. 

“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”

Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go. 

“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”

That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”

“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”

“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.

“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”

“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush. 

“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.” 

“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.

“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops. 

“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”

“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”

When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”

“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.

Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed. 

After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached. 

“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”

“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer. 

“Stay here with me for a while?”

“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”

“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”

“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed. 

He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence. 

“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”

The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”

“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know…”

“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes. 

“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.” 

It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”

“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction. 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.

“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer. 

“I needed you, what can I say?”

“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...

“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.

You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips. 

You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”

“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again. 

The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”

“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.

“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.” 

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips. 

It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you. 

Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together. 

Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with. 

Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.

It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?

You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same. 

With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections. 

Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”

“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”

His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—

But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it. 

But I can’t do it anymore. 

We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months. 

But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.

So, I’m letting you go. 

New Year, New Me, New Heart.

“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”

“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”

A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”

“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason. 

“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too. 

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again. 

“No, you may not.”

“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”

“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie. 

“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”

You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking. 

“I’m saying he would murder me.”

“Yes, I understood.”

“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”

“You did.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation. 

“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face. 

“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”

“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”

The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time. 

Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”

“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up. 

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.

“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”

“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls. 

“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.

Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball. 

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.

So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to. 

Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same.  If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart. 

We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.

I will wait for you.

Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure. 

But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled. 

Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up. 

“I was dreaming.”

“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”

“Now?”

“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows. 

“Why don’t you mail it?”

“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.

“Please, Matty.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”

“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”

Yours,

If you want me, 

(y/n) x

Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother. 

Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”

“I got up early.”

“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed. 

“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.

Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’. 

Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently. 

“Ready to go?”

“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”

Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged. 

“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”

“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?” 

The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself. 

“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.

“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this. 

“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”

Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”

“Tom—”

“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”

He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more. 

Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read. 

His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.

Over and over again, he read the letter. 

The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut. 

His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. 

He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind. 

And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls. 

Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.

Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.

Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving. 

It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself. 

Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon. 

You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group. 

“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke. 

“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers. 

“He’ll be here, trust me.”

“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s. 

The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher. 

The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group. 

“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow. 

“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions. 

“He looks mad,” Draco murmured. 

“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.

Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through. 

“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own. 

You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak. 

It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush. 

His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing. 

When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze. 

“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed. 

“Wh— What?” 

He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright. 

You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”

As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”

He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home. 

Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”

“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.” 

The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it. 

“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.

“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.

“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”

“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes. 

“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms. 

Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.

“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”

His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”

“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”

That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens. 

Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”

[beesspacedotorg]

Dibs

Summary: You get close with your new pack, especially the Luna. 5.5k words

Warnings: it's omegaverse. guys. it's omegaverse. there's gonna be omegaverse in it. reader is an omega, so is lino. there's mommy kink. towards lino. uh. there's s3x. what else. readers genitals and pronouns are not specified or elaborated on at all B). one (1) piss joke. poly ot8 and it's implied they all bone but there's no actual boning that happens. there's boning described once for two seconds.

Notes: I have almost all of the legendary fish in stardew. this was inspired by this ask that @hyunsvngs got like two days ago. it was also finished yesterday, but I was busy so I didn't post it. thanks to my friends who read it and gave me feedback. uhm. that's all.

Hyunjin is the one who finds you. You’re both in the same class at university, a filler class, something to do with philosophy, and you group up on a project to discuss the differences in the eastern and western versions of the practice.

“Do you think the whole ‘Alpha Mindset’ that’s going around these days could be a facet of modern philosophy, or is it just omegaphobia repackaged?” You’re dicking around on your laptop in class. After assigning the project, your teacher gave up on doing their job, which would be great, but attendance is still mandatory.

“Probably repackaged, hey I have a question for you.” Hyunjin sets his phone down when he asks, tilting in his seat to face you and your heart skips about seven beats in your chest.

He’s pretty, almost pretty enough that it’s annoying, that and he smells nice. It took you two weeks of classes to muster up the courage to ask him on a date only for him to say that he has seven boyfriends but he’d be more than happy to be friends. You would sell your soul to the nearest evil spirit to be lucky enough to have one boyfriend, much less seven, but you aren’t going to let a good opportunity slip out of your hands, so you took his offer of friendship even though you wanted- want- more.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You can feel that this conversation is bordering on serious, a topic that you and Hyunjin broach often. He’s the poetic type, and often you find yourself discussing the intricacies of human emotion with him. He seems nervous though, nervous enough that you temporarily pause Papa’s Pizzeria and boot up 2048 instead, giving him as much attention as you can offer.

“So. Okay wait. Give me a second, I have a list of questions to ask you. Seungmin made me a flowchart.” You smile at him, he’s cute. Seungmin is one of his boyfriends, Hyunjin spends more time than is strictly necessary talking your ear off about how smart and cute and talented Seungmin is. You’d be jealous if you hadn’t seen Seungmin pick Hyunjin up from school one time. Your pants filled with slick so fast you had to hide in the bathroom for half an hour pretending to be sick until you calmed down enough to head home.

“Okay. Uhm. Would you consider us to be good friends?” His voice sounds slightly robotic as he reads from his script and you laugh slightly before confirming.

“Oh, that’s great. Me too. Uh. Do you have a boyfriend?” He pauses. “Or a girlfriend, or a partner?” He adds those last two as an afterthought, rushing through them and you laugh again.

“You would know if I managed to pull that off, Hyunjinnie.”

“What about that pretty girl from your math class?”

“She only dates Alphas unfortunately.”

“Damn.” He doesn’t sound very sorry as he says it, but you can tell he’s trying to be nice. It irks you just a tad, but you think this conversation is leading up to something so you drop the irritation and motion for him to continue.

“Okay, if ‘no’, the next question was,” he’s mumbling to himself and you snort slightly. “Do you have a pack?” You blink. He’s never asked you this before and you shake your head. Where you’re from, people have moved away from forming packs, something about a post World War 2 culture shift and traditional values and homophobia and what not. Your generation is working to bring them back, but the only pack you have is your immediate family. You haven’t gotten close enough to anyone on campus to try and start one, and the one time you felt the need you were swiftly friendzoned.

“Ah. No. I don’t.” He hums sadly.

“Okay. Would you like one?”

“Hyunjin…” You’re starting to feel slightly defensive, and you’re not sure if you like where this is going.

“Wait. Wait. Let me finish.” He huffs. “I told Chan these questions would weird you out, but what do I know?” He sets his phone down and grabs the hand that was busy moving the 2048 tiles around on your computer screen.

“I have a crush on you.” You blink, rapid fire. “And I would like to date you. And also so would my seven boyfriends. But we can get to that later. I got here first, I call dibs.”

In the version of this you tell your friends and family, you accepted immediately and you and Hyunjin went on your first date that afternoon. In reality, you stood up so fast you almost passed out and hightailed it to the bathroom to have a mild panic attack. Hyunjin was kind enough to grab your things and wait for you. He was also kind enough to wait the months-long process of you being generally distrustful of him and his intentions until you decided he was actually serious and that you wanted to give it a try.

-

Which leads you to where you are now, in the passenger seat of Hyunjin’s car, hands outrageously sweaty as you prepare to meet the rest of the pack for the first time.

“Listen, we don’t have to.” He says. “I’ve talked it over with the rest of them, it can just be you and I. I like you, I want to date you.”

“No, no. Even if it does work that way, I’d have to meet them eventually.”

“Yeah, but meeting ‘my boyfriends that you have no commitment to’ would probably be easier than meeting ‘my boyfriends who might also become your boyfriends.’”

“I can guarantee you it wouldn’t.”

“Jeeze. You should talk to someone about that.”

“Insurance.”

“Channie has good insurance.”

“I’m not legally dependent on him.”

“Oh.”

He grabs your incredibly sweaty hand in his huge and not-so-sweaty one and holds it for the rest of the drive. When he pulls into the driveway he kisses said hand and bats the other one away from the door handle.

“Don’t worry. I got it.” Usually, he would just walk around the car to open it for you, today he bodily throws himself over the hood before doing a weird roll and a cartwheel. You laugh and he opens it and helps you out. He smiles.

You’re still laughing at him as he guides you to the front door and opens it, you’re laughing as he helps you take your shoes off, and you’re laughing through introductions.

“What’s so funny?” Jeongin asks, and you burst into more laughter as you remember the way Hyunjin chucked himself over the car. You’ve calmed down enough to tell him just as you hear yelling from a different room.

“Hwang Hyunjin! How the hell did you get dirt on your shirt? We told you to pick them up, not stop for mud wrestling!”

(You do, eventually, tell Jeongin what happened. He demands a live demonstration and almost cries at it.

“It’s just so dumb! He’s usually graceful and he just- How did he move his body like that?”

“That was the ugliest fucking cartwheel I’ve ever seen.”)

-

The pack is nice and touchy and, best of all, they want you around.

Heeelllloooooo

hi jisung

Jisung ??? Are you mad at me or smth?

hi jiji

Okay great

WHat are you doung today

And don’t say “your mom”

your mom

ah shit

uh. nothing. sleeping. eating. pissing.

In my mouth?

????????????

Ignore that.

Anyways.

Come over :D 

You can do all of that here

In my bed >:)

I was over there yesterday

Idc. I’m sending over Changbinnie with the car <3

I’M NOT PREPARED TO LEAVE THE HOUSE

Good thing you’re just coming to hang out with me then

-

So, you like them. You’re comfortable with them, there’s only one problem.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“How do you even know that?” Seungmin levels you with a stare.

“It’s physically impossible to hate you-”

“Not true.” Seungmin stares again. You stare back. He rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He doesn’t talk to me.”

“He’s shy.”

“Well! So am I! Only one of us can be shy in this relationship and I call dibs!” Seungmin huffs and smashes his head into a pillow.

“Kim Seungmin, if you mess up my nest, I’m kicking you out.”

“This is my bed.”

“Not anymore.” He fixes the pillow and holds your face in his hands.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“What if he does? What if Luna doesn’t like me?” Seungmin plants a kiss to your nose and lets you cry.

-

haihai

Minho?????

I’m the only one without a cute nickname

rectify that immediately

what should I call you then

Idk. I’ve never had to give myself a nickname.

anyways

a little puppy told me that you think I don’t like you

kim seungmin is dead to me

say your goodbyes

kkkkk

no need for that

I could smell your tears on him after you went home

I thought he scared you away

it took a very long time to get him to fess up >:)

what did you do

nothing he doesn’t enjoy

anyway 

Luna is sorry

for making you think he doesn’t like you

come over tomorrow

I’ll make it up to you >:)

???

I’m not really up to boning rn, sorry to say

>:( that’s not what I meant

Jisungie says you like this game

Stardew Valley

he says it has multiplayer mode

I downloaded it on our switch for us to play together

just us

everyone else can suffer

oh. 

just us?

unless you’d rather have company

I think Channie is free

NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT WE CAN PLAY IT ALONE

chan is free you say >:)

Yah! I called dibs on you!

I’m kicking him out of the house tomorrow

teehee

-

Stardew with Minho is surprisingly fun. You put him in charge of fishing while you spend your days toiling in the mines. He starts beef with Harvey, the local doctor, after you tell him that Harvey is your go-to love interest when you play the game solo.

“He’s pixels! Code and pixels!”

“I don’t care! This stupid doctor wanders onto our farm and charges me money for passing out on my own land. And! He’s stealing my Omega. He needs to go. How do I replace him?” You let out a laugh and ignore the flutters in your stomach when he casually lays claim on you.

“Do you get this upset when Felix or Ji talk about their media crushes?”

“... I don’t see how that’s very relevant to the conversation.”

“You’re silly.” He huffs at you.

-

“Why is this fish ugly?”

“That’s a- You just caught a legendary fish. Do you know how hard that is?”

“It’s ugly. I’m selling it.”

“No, don’t! Let me buy a fish tank! We can display it on our farm!”

“Why would you want to display this?”

“You can only catch one per save file.” He rolls his eyes but dutifully places the fish in the tank when you return to the farm. You kiss his cheek and watch his ears turn red.

-

After that, spending time with Minho is easy. You can’t really imagine what it was like being in the pack without having his attention on you. Felix starts joking that he’s been replaced as Minho’s favorite. (He stops because it starts to make you mildly upset, but also because you’re pretty sure Minho sucked the soul out of his dick right after he first made that joke.)

It comes to a head around exam season, this time, you and Hyunjin don’t share any classes, and annoyingly, Chan is too busy to eat much less help you settle, so you end up floundering with anxiety and stress and lack of sleep.

“Jagi? What’s wrong?” It’s Minho, his scent lavender and undercut with something sugar coated.

“Everything.” Your head is in your hands and you’re shoving your palms into your eyes to push back tears. Minho hums, hand coming to the back of your neck to scruff you just slightly.

“What’s your schedule like right now?” You shove your calendar at him and he hums, considering for a second before he’s hauling you up by your armpits.

“Wait- I have to study. I can’t just-”

“You have to eat.” This is the harshest you’ve ever heard him speak to you, but strangely enough, you don’t feel scared. “You have to eat and sleep and maybe shower and cuddle with Luna because he misses you and then you can get back to studying. Yeah?”

His suggestion makes you whine and struggle in his hold a bit. His hand returns to your neck to re-scruff you.

“Settle. I’m not asking, jagi, I’m telling.” You huff and pout at him, but he’s the pack’s head Omega for a reason, and who are you to question his authority? So you listen, going limp in his hold and forcing him to bear your weight.

“I see why you and Seungminnie get along so well. You’re listening, but not without struggle, hmm? Brats. The both of you.”

“‘M not.”

“You are. But that’s okay, Luna will train it out of you some other time. You’ll learn to behave.”

You can ignore how his words sent a spike of heat to your belly, but you can’t ignore the way he smirks at the change in your scent.

“Oh? Do you like that?”

“... I thought I was supposed to be eating.”

“Nice subject change. But yes, you are. Sit there and let me handle it.”

He feeds you and helps you shower, despite your many protests that you’re gross and can handle it yourself he refuses to back down.

“Let me do this for you, hmm?” His eyes are soft. “I don’t have to if you really don’t want me to, but I want to take care of you. Let me take care of my baby.” So you do, melting under his soft gaze and softer words, and he must be doing something with his scent, because you feel mildly scent drunk as he drags you into his nest.

“I’m allowed in?” You’re surprised. You’ve never been in his room before, most of your hangouts happening in the living room or Chan’s room when he’s not home because Minho thinks it’s funny to bother the Alpha. So you’re slightly out of it and a lot surprised and Minho looks a little upset that you asked but he takes your arm and shoves you onto his bed, rearranging his nest around you before climbing in himself.

“Of course you’re allowed in. You think Kim Seungmin is allowed in here and you’re not? You think I let a sweaty, post-gym Changbin in here but won’t let you? You’re silly. Hush.”

“But-”

“Hush.”

“Okay.” He hums, satisfied at your submission and wraps himself around you. 

“Luna will give you a reward when you finish exams.”

“What if I don’t pass?”

“You still deserve a reward for trying.” He kisses your head and you fall asleep like that, curled around each other, comfortable in his bed and warm in his arms.

-

“I’m finished!” You wander into the house the next week, fully prepared to spend your break doing absolutely nothing.

“Yay! With what, exactly?” Changbin asks. You hang your self off of him, forcing him to drag you along as he putters around the kitchen.

“With exams! Didn’t Yongbokkie and Minho ban you from the kitchen?”

“Well, yes. But what they don’t know won’t kill them.”

“What who doesn’t know?” It’s Minho, and you giggle as you push your face in between Changbin’s shoulder blades. He’s so big and warm. You want to bite him and also want him to hold you against a wall for unholy acts. Your hands wander around while he’s stuttering out a lame excuse to grope his chest.

“Wh- Hey! I’m busy getting threatened here!”

“Yes. I’m busy celebrating being a genius. It seems we both have full schedules.”

“Celebrating,” Minho steps next to you and taps you until you look at him, cheek still smushed against Changbin’s back. “Are you finished with exams then?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closing. Changbin really is comfortable, he smells slightly like chocolate and raspberries, and you could do with a celebratory nap.

“That’s great!” You’re being tugged away from your napping spot. “Come, Luna promised you a reward.”

“My nap.”

“You can’t sleep standing, you’re not a horse.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

He crosses his arms after closing the door to his bedroom.

“Do you want to nap before or after your reward?”

“What’s my reward?” The sentence hasn’t been out of your mouth for very long before he’s cupping the back of your head and kissing you.

“Oh. Oh. This is a good reward.” He smiles against your mouth, gently pushing you back towards his bed.

“Yeah? I thought you’d like it. I can smell you, you know.” Your back is hitting the mattress and there’s a shirt by your head that you think Hunjin was looking for a little while ago. “When you stare at me for too long, I can smell how needy you get. We all can, but I called dibs.”

“Dibs?” Your hands are under his shirt squishing his pecs.

“Mhm. Dibs. Hyunjinnie got to date you first. Kiss and hug and hold your hand. But do you know what I get to do first?” You shake your head and he gives you a wicked smile before he leans down next to your ear. “I get to fuck you first. Not Channie, not our Alpha, not Hyunjinnie who found you first. Me, your Luna. I get you first.” You inhale, shaky, and your legs shake slightly with the way blood rushes away from your brain. You can smell how your scent spikes and you can smell how Minho’s spikes in return. He smells so good, you want to get your mouth on him, so you do. You pull him down until his neck is in reach and seal your lips around the scent gland there, licking the sweat from his skin and letting your lungs fill with nothing but him.

“Jagi,” his voice is breathy, he pulls your head away from his neck and you whine. “You’re gonna get yourself scent drunk and I want you to be present for the things I’m going to do to you. Be good for me.” You pout slightly at him but nod, you’ll be good for him, you’ll do anything he wants. But you want to kiss him again, you want to kiss him so badly that you think you’ll die without it. You throw yourself up, arms circling around his neck as you press your mouth on his and you knock him off balance a bit. You’re upset when he tilts, separating your mouths and you push and push until suddenly he’s on his back under you, but you’re finally kissing so you don’t care all that much.

“Eager.” He’s too busy trying to talk to kiss you and you nip at his lip lightly until he gets the message.

“You’re only getting away with this because this is the first time,” he warns. “Next time, I won’t be so lenient.” You think he might be lying, that he’d let you do whatever you want regardless of how many times you fall into bed together, but you aren’t in the habit of letting other people know you have an advantage so you let it go.

You’re grinding down onto him, chasing friction as your pants fill with enough slick that you worry you might be in heat, whimpering with every movement when he grabs your hips, stopping you.

“Minho, why?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Don’t you wanna get your pants off? Hmm? Feel me bare?” And suddenly, you do. He’s so smart for knowing that, you think. You let him slide your bottoms off and tug at his until they’re gone and there’s nothing separating the two of you save for the fact that you can’t fuse into one person.

You settle yourself back over him and oh. Omegas are supposed to be small, in the dick department, and you suppose compared to an Alpha, he might be. But he feels so good against you, he’ll feel so good inside of you, that you don’t much care, pawing at him desperately. He chuckles and grabs your hand, flipping you back over so he’s on top again.

“Baby, don’t tell me you’re already gone?” You are. You’re so gone. If you’re being honest, you were gone the second he kissed you. He does it again and you whine into his mouth.

“Noisy little thing. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Make sure my pretty Omega is all satisfied before you leave my bed.” He smiles and then he’s kissing his way down your neck and grumbling about the shirt you’re still wearing before his mouth is on the place where you’re leaking slick and suddenly your brain is falling out of your ears.

Your hands grab onto his hair and pull, hips arching up into his mouth. You think the sound that you let out could be heard from outer space, but in your defense, he’s good with his tongue.

“I knew you’d taste good.” You have no idea how he’s still talking, but the vibrations feel nice enough that you don’t want to stop him, that and you don’t think you could stop Minho from doing much of anything at this rate.

“We talked about it, you know.” You didn’t know. The pack talked about you? You quickly lose your train of thought as he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Small, he always says. They don’t feel small.

“It was all Jeonginnie could talk about during his last rut.” Minho huffs and you can see him roll his eyes despite the fact that yours are closed. You weren’t there for his last rut, too nervous and too busy with school to stay. It had caused quite the fuss and you had to spend extra time with Jeongin before and after to soothe him.

“Knuckle deep in Yongbokkie and all he could talk about was you. How good you’d taste, how warm you’d be. He’s lucky that Yongbokkie has the hots for you too, otherwise he’d be down one appendage.” The implication of the youngest Alpha getting his dick chopped off by Felix makes you laugh, but the knowledge that the pack desires you knocks the wind from your lungs. Either that, or the thing Minho is currently doing with his fingers.

He licks you again, and then places his mouth around your hole and sucks, like he’s trying to drink the slick straight from your body. The sound it makes is absolutely obscene, and your face heats at it, hands coming up to hide.

“No, no. Move your hands, jagiya. Let me see you.” He’s moving, mouth no longer on you and you hate it, but your embarrassment outweighs everything else so you don’t move your hands and instead shake your head at him. He pauses, hand stilling inside of you.

“No? Did you just tell me no, sweet thing?” You shake your head again.

“You didn’t? It seems like you did. Seems like you still are.” He’s laughing, or, he was.

“I thought you were going to be good for me. Do I have to turn this reward into a punishment?” That’s the one that does it, your eyes go wide and your hands fall from your face to grab at him, head shaking violently.

“No! No! Mommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I was just nervous, please. I’ll be good. I’m good.” It takes you a second to register what you’ve said, and when you do your hands move up to cover your face again. Minho catches your wrists.

“Mommy? Yeah? Am I your mommy, sweetheart?” He drops your wrist to cup your face and you’ve lost all coordination. He taps your cheek, just a hint of a slap, but it’s enough to have you looking at him with wet eyes.

“I asked you a question, jagiya. Answer mommy when he talks to you, okay?” You nod, still in a daze and he huffs and takes a hold of your hair.

“What did I just tell you, doll?”

“To answer you.”

“Mhm, and what are you not doing?”

“Answering.”

“So what do you say to me?”

“I’m sorry, mommy. I’m sorry, please let go, it hurts.” He lets go of your hair and gently massages your scalp.

“Hmm. That’s better. And, it’s supposed to hurt, baby. That’s how you learn to listen to your mommy. That’s what a brat like you needs to learn their place.” You choke slightly on your own spit, hands coming up to rest in his hair, playing with it. He smiles at you.

“Good. Now, be good for your mommy, yeah? Be good for your Luna and I’ll make sure you get everything you need. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yes. I can.” He hums and suddenly his fingers are in you again and he manages to take one of your nipples into his mouth, and you’re already so keyed up that you feel slightly embarrassed when you’re cumming on his hand a moment later.

“Oh, sweet thing. Did I take too long? Hmm? Did mommy tease you too much?” You shake your head.

“No, ‘m sorry, mommy.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Don’t worry so much. You used your brain so well this past week, let mommy do the thinking for you. I’ll tell you when to apologize, how about that?”

“Sounds good.” You’re hot, overwarm, and you're shoving your shirt off the rest of the way and chucking it somewhere. The shirt’s only over your eyes for a second, but somehow Minho has managed to coat his fingers in his own slick and shove them into your mouth. Your eyes roll so far back into your head you’re worried they might stick but he tastes so good that you would suffer blindness for eternity just to have this.

“Mommy, mommy, you taste so good-”

“Shh, I know.” He shoves his fingers far enough back that you gag a little and your eyes water and he coos and wipes at your tears with the hand that was in you, smearing slick across your cheekbones.

His fingers are out of your mouth and he’s between your legs, shoving them apart to get at your hole and then he's sliding in.

“Oh God.”

“Just Minho is fine. Or mommy,” he giggles at you, “since you seem so fond of it.”

Your glare slightly at him, less than pleased with the corny joke, but he shifts his hips and hits a spot that has you keening, arching up into him for more.

“There? Yeah? Jesus. You're leaking so much that I'd think you're in heat if you didn't know any better.” He's right, but it's unfair of him to single you out.

“You are too.” It comes out a lot more whiny than you wanted but he’s nice enough to look offended anyway.

“I thought I took care of your attitude. It seems I have my work cut out for me.” His pace picks up at that, and suddenly you don't have enough brain cells to think, let alone talk back.

You're not wrong though, there's slick everywhere. From you and him, it's soaking through the sheets, it's sticking your thighs together every time he thrusts forward, it's coating his hands and everywhere he touches you. It's loud, the slapping of your bodies accompanied by a wet squish every time either of you moves. It's messy and sticky and slightly gross and you want more. You want to be covered in him and he in you until you smell so similar not even the best drug dog would be able to tell you apart.

Your hands wander searching and searching until you’ve found the place where he’s leaking too and you're coating your fingers in it and smearing a hand over your chest before sticking them in your mouth. You hear Minho gasp and his hips stutter before picking back up.

“Dirty, that’s dirty, Omega. You want me to make a mess of you?” You nod. Of course you do. You want your mommy to do whatever he wants to you. He coos and guides your hand back to his hole, guiding you into fingering him while he’s rearranging your guts.

“Mommy, it’s- you’re so warm.” He hums at you, breath finally turning ragged.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck mommy sometime? I bet you’d be good at it. Such a good little Omega for me, for us.” You do. You would like to fuck him sometime. Anytime really, you bet he’d be so warm. Tight and hot and wet. You have him on your fingers now, but you’re too overwhelmed to really enjoy it the way it should be enjoyed, the way he should be enjoyed. You want to eat him out, drink his slick straight from the source for the rest of time. You wouldn’t need water or food anymore if you could just have him.

“Yeah, I would. Mommy, please. I’ll be good. I’ll do so good.” You’re babbling at him, out of it and barely able to speak. He has to strain to understand you properly.

“You would. Mommy knows you would. Such a sweetheart, you’d make your Luna feel so good, hmm?” And you tighten around him with a loud moan and there’s a bang on the wall connecting Minho’s room to Chan’s and Minho bangs back.

“Yah! Just because you’re too busy to get your dick wet doesn’t mean I am! Leave us alone and go jack off or something!” He huffs and looks back down at you, kissing your nose softly in a stark juxtaposition to the way his hips are probably bruising your own.

“Why don’t you go ahead and cum, baby? Hmm? Mommy’s right behind you.” He shoves his fingers in your mouth again and this time, this time, his fingers are coated in a heady mixture of yours and his slick and that’s what does you in. That’s what makes you cum so hard your legs shake and makes Minho take his fingers out of your mouth lest you choke. He follows not too soon after, and when he pulls out you can see the mixture of cum and slick slide out of you.

“Next time,” Minho’s looking down at it too, “I’ll make sure that stays in. Can’t have it go to waste, can we?”

-

Despite his earlier promise, he doesn’t let you nap yet.

“But you said-”

“I know what I said. And now I’m saying that you can’t sleep like this.”

He bodily drags you to the shower, again, and changes the sheets before he lets you lie down.

“My hair is gonna be so dry.”

“Where’s the stuff you put in it?”

“At my house.”

“This is your house.”

“I still rent an apartment close to campus.” Minho pauses, shifting so you’re face-to-face.

“Don’t. Come live with us.”

“There aren’t enough rooms.”

“If privacy is what you’re worried about, Luna will build you a room right next to his with his bare hands.” You giggle at him.

“Yeah. But I have to pay a fee for breaking my lease.”

“Luna will take care of it.”

-

haihai

hi minho what’s up

>:( still no cute nickname?

I feel like it’s inappropriate to call you mommy in a casual setting

oh >:)? that’s my nickname now?

if that’s okay

whatever you want

as long as I have a cute nickname before kim seungmin I don’t care

then why did you harass me about it??????!??!?!

kkkk I had to get you in my bed somehow

-

“Can you guys stop texting when you’re right next to each other? All of your weird flirting is really interrupting movie time.” Jisung is complaining from where his head is rammed into your stomach.

“Dude. You’re literally not even watching it.” It’s Jeongin now, reaching over to smack Ji’s head.

“And? You’re the one who’s always complaining about how loud they are.” This is news to you.

“Is it really that bad?” Your voice is small and immediately Minho’s hands are touching you.

“No. They don’t know what they’re talking about, they’re just mad that they haven’t figured out how to get you to make such pretty noises yet.”

The room erupts into shouts as people defend themselves from Minho’s claim, you smile at him and tuck yourself further into his side, kicking Jisung out from his spot in your lap.

“Hey! I called dibs on your lap! You can’t take that away!” He’s shoving at your knees, trying to shove them back off the couch so he can lay comfortably again.

“When did you guys even call dibs on all this stuff?”

“It used to be while you were on the drive here,” Felix says, “now we do it while you’re  getting a blanket from your room.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Sure. Just call dibs first.”

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 16 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: fluff (if you squint really really hard), ANGST, strong language, explicit descriptions of violence & the process of cleaning wounds, mentions of loss of consciousness, SLOW BURN

words: 12.2k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 16 ► i’m still your favourite regret, you’re still my weapon of choosing

The performance in Cologne the next day passed by in a blur. Jungkook refused to speak to anyone and only opened his mouth when it was absolutely necessary during the sound check—and even then, most of his vocabulary consisted of grunts or monosyllables.

He wouldn’t have called it sulking—he would have called it existential sorrow—but from the perspective of those around him, that was what this was.

He had dreamed of a happy ending with you. Now, he feared there would be no ending at all. He feared you’d leave and your goodbye would come in a letter. Or maybe just a farewell email.

“I had a wonderful time working with you and I wish you all the best for the future,” would be the last thing you’d write. The last thing you’d say.

You’d leave and he would never see you again.

Although he didn’t talk to you, Jungkook watched you a lot. The band had to do some interviews backstage before the Cologne show, and you were in the room with them, behind the camera. He counted, you only looked at him once.

After the concert, Jungkook took a long shower, but it could not drown his fears. When he returned to the hallway outside the dressing rooms, he saw that the post-show drinks were already finished and everyone had returned to the bus. He’d hoped that would happen. He needed a few more minutes alone.

He entered the changing room with a towel draped over his shoulders and quickly changed his shorts into sweatpants. Just as he pulled his hoodie over his head—somewhat laboriously, as his arms were still damp from the shower—he heard something vibrating against the leather couch in the room.

Confused, he pulled the hoodie on and walked over to the couch. He didn’t recognise the phone, but Taehyung was calling it, so chances were good that the device belonged to Luna. He made a mental note to bring it to her and placed it back on the couch while he packed the rest of his things.

He had just unzipped his bag when he heard the door open and turned his head. His expectant heart immediately jumped over several beats at the possibility that this was you.

But it was the furthest thing from you.

It was Sid.

Sid had many useless, irritating talents, but always finding Jungkook when he was alone, was his most impressive one.

Jungkook started to roll his eyes even before Sid spoke up, but that didn’t deter the older boy from entering the room.

“You’ve been ignoring us the whole day,” Sid said, closing the door behind him. “Well, I don’t care if you ignore everyone else. But you’ve been ignoring me, and I can’t allow that.”

Jungkook threw his jeans and shorts into the bag.

“That is so kind,” he said without looking up. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I did,” Sid said, and even without looking at him, Jungkook knew he had his usual psychotic grin on. Leaning against the dressing table, Sid added, “the clock’s tick-tick-ticking.”

“If you don’t leave me alone right now,” Jungkook retorted, unplugging his charger and packing it, too, “my foot is going to be kick-kick-kicking your ass.”

Sid merely snorted at the threat. “You’re very hostile, you know? It’s just a bet.”

Jungkook scoffed.

He remembered hoping that Sid would eventually forget about the bet if no one mentioned it. How very naive he had been. Sid would never forget. He was like a hateful elephant in this case—he had a flawless memory for anything that benefited him and was constantly at the centre of attention in any room he was in, making it impossible to escape his presence.

Jungkook couldn’t believe that he had once clung to the Katana so tightly that he didn’t even consider the possibility of losing the bet as soon as he made it. It seemed absurd now. What did he want to prove? Nothing made sense to him anymore.

“Is it? Really? Just a bet?” he rebutted, moving closer to Sid with each question. “Because when I told you I wanted to end it, you acted like we signed a fucking contract.”

Sid shrugged, his indifference as irritating as it was insincere.

“A bet’s still a bet,” he replied. “You’ve got to keep your word.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook turned around and grabbed his hairdryer from the table. They had already argued about this before. He didn’t have the energy to keep doing it, and he still had things to pack.

“Get fucked, Sid.”

“Come on,” Sid said, clearly expecting a more grandiose response from him. “You keep saying that. But I’m willing to talk to you here. Tell me what happened.”

Jungkook glared at him through his peripherals. “What the fuck do you mean, what happened?”

“Well, you were acting so bold and confident before,” Sid said in a breathy voice, presumably to imitate Jungkook’s manner of speaking. “You were sure you’d get back together, no problem.”

“No,” Jungkook countered, straightening up. “I was sure we could go on a date, no problem. That was the extent of the bet for me.”

It was bad enough, he knew. But he couldn’t move forward if he didn’t own up to it.

“Aww.” Sid tilted his head sideways and pursed his lips to feign sympathy. “But you couldn’t even do that...”

“I fucking—okay,” Jungkook stopped when he felt his agitation grow. There was a voice in his head—very similar to yours—reminding him that Sid wasn’t worth it. “Get out. I’m serious.”

“Was that all talk?” Sid continued as if the younger boy hadn’t spoken. “Admit it, and maybe we’ll come to a different agreement about the bet.”

“Get,” Jungkook said, gritting his teeth, “out.”

Sid clicked his tongue, but the pleasure that this interaction brought him was prominent in his eyes. Antagonising Jungkook was his favourite part of the day.

“Predictable,” he said. “It seems I overestimated you, after all.”

“What the fuck are you on about now?”

“Well, you know,” Sid continued to spin his webs around Jungkook. “You and your manager. I thought you’d win the bet for sure.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook asked, “yet you still agreed to it?”

Sid’s eye twitched slightly—Jungkook felt a great sense of satisfaction at the sight; it wasn’t often that Sid was forced to question his own logic, however momentarily—but he recovered too quickly.

“I like to gamble.” He shrugged. “What can I say?”

“You can shut up,” Jungkook suggested.

“However, you didn’t manage to do it,” Sid went on. “And I have to say, I am genuinely surprised. Not about you, no. I always knew you were pathetically in love with her, that’s just who you are. No offence, just the truth, really. But she’s just—I mean, come on.” He paused to laugh, one hand on his stomach as if he found himself so amusing that he needed to keep his guts from spilling out. “You fluttered your eyelashes at her once, and she went to Paris with you. She’s that fucking easy.”

Jungkook felt the room still as he lifted his gaze from Sid’s stomach to his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Sid’s grin was about as wide as the distance from this venue to the nearest hospital, where Jungkook thought he was about to send him.

Sid pushed himself off the table he’d been leaning against and walked over to the rack of clothes next to the couch. Jungkook watched him, stiff and belligerent.

“I thought she was keeping you on a short leash. And don’t blame me. I mean, you always ran after her as soon as she called,” the older boy continued, laughing with a little shake of his head—as if in disbelief. He turned and leisurely strolled back towards Jungkook. “But she—I mean, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much, but even I could have taken her out if I wanted to. Honestly, man, I’m surprised you couldn’t do it. She’s that specific type—you know the one—where she’ll say yes to anyone if they just put in enough effort—”

Jungkook’s punch landed right on the side of Sid’s mouth, cutting him off.

Something in Sid’s neck cracked as the blunt force twisted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth was bleeding, but he still had an almost defiant look in his eyes when he turned back to Jungkook. The tips of his fingers were painted scarlet when he pulled them back from his lips.

“I fucking warned you,” Jungkook growled while Sid continued to stare at his hand. “Get your ass out of here right fucking now or I swear they’ll have to carry you out of here in a fucking box.”

Sid spat the blood from his mouth on the floor and glared at Jungkook.

“That the best you can do?” he challenged. “Huh? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t even get someone like her to—”

Jungkook raised his fist again, but Sid had already been anticipating it. He pushed Jungkook’s hand back with his forearm, knocking the younger boy off balance for a moment—it was then that he landed a punch on Jungkook’s left cheekbone.

A sharp pain surged through the side of his face, but Jungkook was wide awake and furious.

In less than a second, he noticed Sid swinging back again—Sid had always been strong but slow—and Jungkook blocked his blow with his left wrist and rammed his shoulder into Sid’s chest, pushing him into the wall and wrapping an arm around him. The older boy thrashed and squirmed with raging strength until he freed one of his hands.

Jungkook tried to pin Sid’s left arm against the wall—he was left-handed if barely even that—but, being the massive pile of unbelievably lucky crap that he was, Sid managed to use his right fist to reach the boy restraining him.

Sid’s unexpected southpaw caught Jungkook just as he was lowering his head to avoid the blow from the older boy’s dominant hand—and his right fist connected with the side of Jungkook’s head, between his eye and temple.

“You’re f-fucking embarrassing,” Sid snarled, bloodied and breathless, as Jungkook staggered backwards, dazed from the blow. “Weak fucking piece of sh-shit. Birds of fucking feather, you two—both fucking worthless and—”

Sid inhaled quickly before finishing his sentence—but then he ended up not even finishing his breath.

Aggravated and filled with raw adrenaline, Jungkook delivered a furious uppercut, his fist colliding solidly with Sid’s chin. The older boy was propelled backwards by the force—Jungkook heard the thud as his head hit the wall.

Already groaning, Sid was determined to fight back—never mind that the room was spinning—but Jungkook took advantage of the moment while Sid’s vision was still cloudy and pinned him against the wall with his full weight.

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he hissed, pressing his forearm against Sid’s neck.

Choking, Sid immediately grabbed Jungkook’s arm to push him off, but Jungkook had a clear strength and fury advantage. He did not budge as the older boy resisted him.

Sid knew this wasn’t a good look for him—he could feel that if Jungkook pushed his forearm into his neck any harder, he’d lift him off the ground. Unable to breathe, the older boy paled, but his eyes were black with rage.

“Face the fff-fuh-fucking facts. You’re weak,” Sid wheezed, livid. There was blood in his mouth and something else that rolled around his tongue when he spoke. “And she’s a f-fucking—”

“One more fucking word,” Jungkook warned, pressing his arm harder into Sid’s throat—the other boy couldn’t even look at him anymore, his head was pushed too far back, “and you’ll have to be fucking dissected to find out what the fuck happened to you.”

Sid gasped for breath but refused to stop speaking. “I—unf—f-fucking—”

“What the fuck—” a shrill, startled voice demanded from behind the two boys, “—is going on?!”

Jungkook jumped—Sid felt his arm shove deeper into his throat and let out a half-stifled cry—and turned to see Luna standing wide-eyed in the doorway of the changing room.

He tore himself away from Sid, who dropped his hands to his knees, panting and clutching his throat before straightening again as though nothing was wrong. But his attempt to inhale properly resulted in another violent coughing fit. He bent over to spit out some blood and something else.

The two boys watched as a tooth rolled into the revolting mixture of spit and blood on the floor. Sid looked appalled as he reached for his mouth again, almost prepared to count all his teeth to check if he’d really lost one or if spare teeth were just something he carried around in his mouth without realising.

“Do I have to ask again?!” Luna cried, too shocked to make sense of what she had the unfortunate luck of interrupting.

“It’s okay, Luna,” Jungkook said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “Sid was just leaving.”

Sid glared at him, coughed again, and leaned in closer.

“All bark,” he hissed hoarsely. Jungkook could see the small gap next to Sid’s lower canine when he opened his mouth. “No bite.”

“Get fucked,” Jungkook said. “And pack your shit. Don’t come anywhere near me again or you’ll be eating through a fucking straw.”

He watched as Sid narrowed his eyes, fighting a battle within himself. Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, his fists ready to strike if he made another comment or exhibited any signs of even thinking about you.

Finally, Sid turned around and stormed out of the room. As soon as he walked down the corridor without so much as a glance at Luna, she went inside.

Still completely bewildered, she stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. The pool of blood was between her and Jungkook, and they both looked at it for a moment.

“What—” she began, then paused to suppress her disgust as she lifted her gaze from the floor to Jungkook. “What the hell happened here?”

He walked over to one of the cupboards by the window, searching for towels. He needed to clean this up or the venue would report the damages to you.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“You’re bleeding,” Luna said, stepping closer. Jungkook froze as she took one of the towels from him and reached up to his temple. “You’re bleeding so much, in fact, that you might need stitches.”

He shook his head—and then received a punch in the ribs from her. He yelped in surprise and learnt to stand still while she wiped the blood off.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. His temple throbbed with pain, but it still couldn’t compare to the sharp-edged emptiness that he’d felt all day.

“It’s not fine,” Luna said, pulling away. The towel was soaked with blood. Jungkook had to admit that he was surprised he was bleeding so much. Despite the sharpness of Sid’s fists, he had assumed that he’d been merely scratched. “Let me find—”

“No!” His eyes were wide in sudden panic. “Don’t—don’t bring her here. Actually, don’t tell her about the mess here at all. Please?”

Luna watched him for a moment, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion (was he serious?) and eyes bright with pity (what a shame to be so stupid).

“Jungkook,” she said patiently. “You’re going to have bruises all over your face. Probably even a black eye.”

He exhaled and looked down.

He knew he couldn’t keep this from you, but involving you now was the worst possible thing he could do. He was supposed to make things right.

“I know,” he said slowly, “but—I’m… I don’t want this to be another one of my messes that she has to clean up. That would definitely make her give up and go to Reconnaissance.”

Luna lowered her gaze, taking a moment to process the fact that Jungkook knew about the other band, but instead of the hysterics that everyone would have expected from him, he’d been rather composed all day today. Until he got into a fight with Sid, of course.

She tossed the towel onto the puddle of blood on the floor. She had no intention of cleaning it up herself, but she couldn’t stand to look at it.

“Well, have you considered not getting into this mess in the first place?” she asked then.

“Believe it or not, he started it,” Jungkook mumbled as he gathered more towels from the cupboard.

“Does that even matter now?”

Luna had to step back as he bent down to mop the floor. Some blood had already seeped into the wooden floorboards, but Jungkook scrubbed over the stain with the towel anyway.

“No,” he said, concentrating his irritation on the repetitive motions as he wiped the floor. “I guess not.”

“At least let me get some band-aids for you.” She looked around the room. There didn’t seem to be any first-aid kits here, but she had a few band-aids in her bag that she’d left in the waiting area outside. “Although I don’t know if that’s even enough.”

“It is enough,” Jungkook said. “I’m fine. He barely—barely touched me.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Luna turned to the door, muttering under her breath, “fucking boys.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small smile.

“I heard that!” he shouted.

“I wanted you to!” she shouted back without turning around.

He chuckled, then winced at the sharp twinge in his temple. The adrenaline must have worn off, or the pain was getting stronger. He stopped scrubbing the floors, hoping to leave a message for the organisers and personally apologise for the mess later.

Then he crossed his legs on the ground and leaned his head against the wall. For just one second, he closed his eyes and rested.

He made a decision while he did.

He resolved to make sure that Sid wouldn’t come anywhere near him, Rated Riot, or you.

He finally realised that he had friends here—real friends. They had been here all along, the people who loved him. Hoseok, who took care of him when he was hungover. Yoongi, who tried to find help when he thought Jungkook was feeling a little too much. Taehyung, who didn’t leave even after Jungkook admitted how much he’d fucked up. And Luna, who looked about ready to physically beat some sense into him, but still stayed to help him with his wounds. Namjoon, Jimin, Seokjin, and Maggie, too—honestly, the entire team who laughed at his jokes, teased him and always supported him.

Although he was still worried about being alone with his thoughts, Jungkook knew he didn’t need Sid to fill the void. Now he wondered if Sid had always been the void he was trying to escape.

He was determined to prevent history from repeating itself. These people that he’d desperately wanted to call friends had already contributed significantly to your break-up once before, without him realising it.

Well, now he realised it. And he was going to fix it—all of it.

He could start by eliminating the reason why he kept making the same mistakes.

A minute later, Luna returned to the room. The sight of Jungkook sitting on the floor with his eyes closed made her look twice as she felt her heart drop in sudden anxiety.

She thought about turning around and looking for you, because you had a lot more patience to deal with this than she thought she did. But then, she knew that another argument was the last thing you or Jungkook needed right now.

She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Here,” she said as she grabbed another towel and squatted down next to him with the few band-aids that, frankly, seemed meagre when she saw the cuts and bruises on his face up close. “Let me help you.”

Jungkook had only briefly opened his eyes to look at her and then closed them again.

“Thank you,” he said as she wiped more blood from the side of his face before applying the band-aid. She didn’t mean to be gentle. She wanted him to understand how much he’d messed up. But her movements ended up being tentative and careful anyway.

“Don’t thank me,” she said, biting her lip as the blood immediately seeped through the band-aids. They would not hold; they both knew that. She sighed and pulled away from him. “She will see this. You will have to argue with her again. I can’t help you with that.”

He nodded his head once. “I know.”

Luna rose and walked over to the back of the room, considering this. She leaned her hip against the table and looked back at him.

“I don’t, um—okay. For what it’s worth,” she said, resting her hands on the table on either side of her. “I don’t think she’ll quit. Not even over this.”

“You really believe that?” Jungkook asked, opening his eyes. The hope in them was so bright that it was almost blinding.

Luna nodded. “She loves the band too much. Not even you can change that.”

He looked down. That would have to be good enough, he decided—just the fact that you would stay, even if it wasn’t for him. Even if it was despite him.

“I-I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

“Okay, so now—” Luna jumped onto the table to take a seat, “—tell me what happened with Sid.”

Ordinarily, this would have been a long story. But Jungkook knew Taehyung might have made telling it a bit easier for him.

“Taehyung said you know about the bet?” he asked to be sure.

“Yeah. He told me back in Tilburg after he saw you leave with her to talk. Or, well, he assumed you would talk,” Luna explained. “In any case, you should be grateful that I know my strengths. Otherwise, I’d be punching you, too.”

Considering how much smaller than him Luna was, Jungkook smiled reflexively.

“I appreciate you not doing that,” he said with genuine respect.

“I’ve mentally kicked your ass, though.”

“Well, I deserve that, I guess.”

“So, this was about the bet, then?”

Jungkook sighed. He hadn’t technically allowed Sid to say any additional adjectives after he’d called you “easy,” but even this was too much. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could talk about it without wanting to rip Sid’s eyes out and feed them to him.

“He was… just riling me up. He said some—some things,” he said, choosing a gentler word, even though several more appropriate expletives came to mind. “And he took it too far. Trust me, he deserved to get hit.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Luna said. “I just don’t think you should have been the one to hit him.”

Jungkook swallowed, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth. It didn’t bother him much. He’d tasted worse in the past few days.

“If I didn’t do it,” he said, “no one else would have.”

“Why are you so sure about that?” Luna asked, her voice less confident.

Most of what she knew about Jungkook and Sid came from questionable fan accounts she’d seen online—the stories she read were almost always outrageous, but now that she’d gotten to know Sid on this tour, she found those accounts much more plausible. Surely then, if Sid was this loathsome to everyone, someone was bound to deck him sooner or later.

“Everyone else is afraid of him,” Jungkook replied.

“And you’re not?” she asked.

The question felt mocking—even though it didn’t sound like that was Luna’s intention.

He thumped his head against the wall. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

The room was silent for a few minutes as Jungkook sat motionless, and Luna’s gaze kept wandering to the pile of towels on the bloodstained floor and then back to his resigned figure against the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” she said then.

His voice was tired. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make this bet in the first place?”

He inhaled, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot up from his lungs to his throat. It probably wasn’t a good sign, but he did not have the energy to worry about it at the moment.

He scratched the uninjured side of his face with his hand—his knuckles bruised and torn—and let his fingers linger there. It was a reflexive reaction, Luna observed, as he tried to hide from her. Or, rather, from her question.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Sid and Jude were getting in my head about how I was like some—I don’t know, pathetic. They made me feel like I was less of a person because I still had feelings for her.”

“Less of a person,” Luna said, “or less of an asshole that they seem to be trying—and succeeding—to be?”

Jungkook sighed, allowing the pins and needles to settle in his oesophagus. He wanted to say something but swallowed the answer with the bitter taste in his mouth.

“So, you made the bet to prove them wrong?” she asked in response to his silence.

“I—I don’t know,” he said again. He sometimes felt like he was a different person when he was with his friends. And now that he was determined to never see Sid again—but the repercussions of their friendship were still evident—Jungkook didn’t know who he really was anymore. “I think, at first, I agreed to the bet to prove a point.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “But there was another reason?”

“Yeah, I think that… there was something else,” he said with a slow nod. “I realised later that I might have agreed to the bet because I wanted to win it. Not—not for the money, and not just to prove that I wasn’t pathetic. I just really—I wanted to go on that date with her. I wanted her. And the bet was—it was a kick in my ass to finally act on my feelings.”

Luna’s eyebrows suddenly dropped in disappointment and she turned away to hide her expression, even though Jungkook was too weary to lift his head and look up.

“There were better ways to act on them, you know,” she said. “Less painful ways, too.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a wry smile. “Unfortunately, I’m fucked up.”

“You… you’re not fucked up,” she said, although to be honest, after learning about the bet, she thought he might be. But now that she saw how much his choices tormented him, she realised that he wasn’t all black and white. He was very, very grey. “You just did a fucked-up thing.”

Jungkook snickered weakly. “That’s nice of you to say. But I was always… I’d always been a problem.”

“Because of your friends?”

“Yeah—well, mostly, yeah. B-but she—” he paused here as another jolt of pain shot through his chest at the mention of you. He filled his lungs completely with another sharp intake of breath, then tried again. “She still—she still loved me. You know? I used to look at my friends and think I had nothing compared to them. But then I met her, and I—I had everything. I didn’t deserve her, but I—she was with me. She wanted to be with me. And she was the one good thing in my life. And I took that for granted. And now that I—now that we… anyway. I blew it. Now I really have nothing. Serves me right, I know. I just wish she wasn’t—I wish I hadn’t hurt her.”

Luna closed her eyes and sighed in response to the endless additions that Jungkook could not seem to control as he spoke.

She felt a little upset, she couldn’t help it. But she also felt a little giddy. She’d never heard Jungkook say these things about you, but she’d suspected that was how he felt all along.

However, she wasn’t one to make empty promises, especially when those promises were not within her control, so she could not say things like ‘you two will be fine’ or ‘you didn’t blow it.’

Honestly, she couldn’t find an appropriate response no matter how much she tried, so for a good minute, the two of them sat in silence.

Then, Jungkook finally raised his eyes from the ground. “Why’d you come here, by the way? I thought everyone was on the bus.”

Luna blinked, remembering suddenly.

“I left my phone here after the show,” she said, instinctively checking her pockets to make sure she really did not have it.

“Oh.” He pointed to the opposite side of the room. “I think I heard it vibrate. On the couch.”

“Ah.” She pushed herself off the table. “Thanks.”

He watched through his eyelashes as she picked up her phone. One of his eyelids was dropping and he was afraid to blink.

When Luna glanced at the screen—and probably saw the missed call from Taehyung—Jungkook said, “you should go.”

She turned around and took in the scene in the room once more.

It was miserable here. Jungkook looked miserable.

“I’m sorry I can’t say anything encouraging,” she said, biting her lip. “She’s my friend. And you’ve done a—well, this isn’t good.”

Jungkook nodded and swallowed, but it didn’t soothe his dry throat. “I know.”

“I’d like to help, but I—I’m always going to be on her side.”

“Of course. I understand.”

Luna sighed, because he had claimed he understood, but still looked as if happiness was a concept he’d never experienced in his life.

“I just—I don’t know what to tell you before I go,” she admitted. She knew she didn’t owe him anything, but leaving him here in this state didn’t feel right, either. She had always been compassionate, but the intensity of it surprised her this time. “I don’t know what she’ll do. A-about you, I mean. Not about Reconnaissance.”

Jungkook considered this. The side of his head felt torn and cracked. The poor band-aids were already dark red.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Luna raised her eyebrows at the abrupt question. “Me?”

“If you were her,” Jungkook explained. “Or if I were Taehyung.”

She licked her lips, taking a moment to choose her next words.

“Jungkook,” she said. “No offence, but Taehyung would never do something so stupid.”

A defeated, humourless smile appeared on his lips. “Yeah. You’re right. He wouldn’t.”

As soon as the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes dimmed, his voice sounded as if it was coming from somewhere underground.

God, Luna thought. Now the room was even more dreary.

Even though she was going to support whatever decision you would make about this, she couldn’t just leave without saying anything to him. Having no one on his side while he tried to redeem himself was unfair.

Advice, she figured, had to be the best thing she could offer him right now.

“Listen,” she said with a determined inhale. “I can’t judge what I would do if I were her because I don’t share her memories. I don’t know what happened between you all those years ago. Or even what’s happening now. But… if I were you, I’d give her some time.”

Jungkook nodded, looking at her with what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“Interestingly enough, that’s what your boyfriend told me,” he said.

“Yeah? Well, he gives great advice.”

The corners of his lips stretched further. “Matching set, you two.”

Luna slid her phone into her pocket and grabbed her bag, zipping up the pocket where she had kept the band-aids.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said. “We’re leaving for the airport soon, so don’t stay here too long. Don’t make her look for you. I’ll, um—I’ll try to do damage control.”

“Okay. Thank—”

Before Jungkook could finish, the door of the changing room opened wider, diverting their attention.

They both turned to look with very different expressions on their faces—Luna was already scowling, thinking that Sid had come back. Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared absolutely terrified, thinking that it was you, about to witness him sitting on the bloody floor—literally—with band-aids on his face.

“Oh,” a gasp left Minjun’s lips as he stopped in the doorway. “Sorry, I was—”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said, immensely relieved. “You can come in.”

“Hold on,” Luna warned. Minjun remained frozen under her gaze. “Will I have to intervene? Because I think we’ve spilt enough blood already.”

Minjun raised his eyebrows. “Whose blood?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jungkook said to the girl. “Thank you, Luna.”

She watched the two of them for another minute until Jungkook nodded reassuringly again. Hesitantly, she nodded back and gave Minjun a pointed look.

“Okay. But you watch your hands,” she warned. “He has to be on stage tomorrow.”

“I—I mean no harm.” Minjun raised both hands, taken aback by her hostility. “I don’t know what happened here, but I’m—I come in peace.”

“Good,” Luna said with a firm nod. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jungkook. “I’ll see you later. Put some ice on your eye when you get back on the bus. It won’t do much for the colour, but it might help with the swelling.”

“Will do,” he said and called out as she exited the room, “thank you again!”

After Luna had left, Minjun entered the room and closed the door behind him. Only then he noticed the bloody towels and the dirty floor. Squinting, he leant forward a little and detected something else between the towels.

“So,” he said, straightening. “What the fuck happened and whose tooth is that on the floor?”

Jungkook snorted. “Sid’s.”

Minjun’s face lit up with childlike glee. “No fucking way! Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said with a grin that made him look vaguely menacing, considering how bruised and battered his face was.

“Awesome, man,” Minjun said, coming closer to pat him on the back before squatting next to him.

“He deserved it.”

“I don’t even care, to be honest. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah. Well.” Jungkook lifted a hand to gesture at his own face. “He’s landed some good ones, too.”

Minjun observed his bruises and the bloody band-aids that seemed quite small for a normal cut, but remained remarkably resilient on his fresh wounds.

“You’ll live,” he concluded.

Jungkook turned to him. A little awkwardly, he asked, “why, um… why are you here?”

“Ah.” Minjun reached into his pocket for something. “Here.”

Jungkook immediately recognised the keys to his Katana in his friend’s palm.

Speechless for a minute, he just stared at Minjun’s hand without moving. He had a feeling—against his better judgement—that this was a trap. That by taking the keys, he’d sign something else to the devil.

“What—?” he tried to ask.

“Take it,” Minjun urged, wishing to relieve himself of the unwanted weight of the keys in his hand.

“But the bet—”

“Fuck the bet,” he said, waving his palm up and down when Jungkook still didn’t reach for it. “It went too far.”

“Sid,” Jungkook began, hesitation and doubt evident in every centimetre of his face, “didn’t agree to this.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Sid’s mother didn’t agree to give birth to a fucking clown, but shit happens,” Minjun countered. “Take the damn keys.”

Jungkook finally extended his shaking hand and felt the familiar cold metal under his fingertips. He paused before pulling back with the keys.

The Katana was his. But instead of relief, he felt a new weight in his chest.

“Why?” he asked, looking down at the key ring, adorned with a gaudy, jewelled pendant with the initials “JK.” It was a trinket you had bought him during a drunken escapade at a local fair. He still remembered your delighted squeal when you spotted the two letters in one of the jewellery stands.

“Because this is stupid and pointless,” Minjun said. His legs had gone numb, so he mirrored Jungkook’s position and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. “Some fucking bet is not worth ruining your relationship over.”

With a small smile on his face—because they were two miserable losers, hanging out on the floor of his band’s changing room—Jungkook clutched the keys and pushed them into his own pocket.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier,” Minjun said. “I was afraid, I guess. Of what Sid would do if I went against his wishes. But then I… came to pick you up from that hotel bar in Tilburg—”

“That was you?” Jungkook cut him off. He had been wondering how he ended up back on the tour bus.

“Yeah,” Minjun replied. “You called me and asked to take the bike back to the rental shop because you couldn’t do it anymore. Man, I swear, I thought you were on some bridge, the way you phrased it.”

Jungkook looked away. He was not in a good place when he called his friend, and alcohol must have exaggerated it. “Sorry.”

“You still looked worse than I expected when I got there,” Minjun continued. “I thought I might have to take you to a hospital to have your stomach pumped, and I don’t fucking speak Dutch. Nor did I know where a fucking hospital was in Tilburg.”

Jungkook laughed at his rising tone, and Minjun smiled, too.

The smile turned ironic, however, when he added, “you threw up on my shoes.”

Jungkook, who never got drunk enough to experience a hangover the next day, let alone throw up, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t remember that,” he said, meaning that it didn’t happen.

Minjun ignored the dismissive tone in his voice—he had a ruined pair of Converse to prove his accusation.

“Lucky you then,” he retorted. “You regained some colour after that, though. But you wouldn’t stop talking about her. It was like—like you couldn’t understand anything of what was happening, but you could still remember her. It hit me then, how little the bet really mattered. I mean, I always thought it was stupid, but that night, I—I saw what you were feeling. You regretted everything. I wanted to give you the keys right then, but you looked like you couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror, so I just dropped you off on the bus. One of your—Hoseok was awake. He thanked me.”

Jungkook needed a minute to reflect on the conversation he’d had with Hoseok later that same morning.

“He didn’t tell me,” he said.

Minjun shrugged. “He had nothing to thank me for, anyway. I’m your friend. Sorry I didn’t act like it before.”

This was the first time that one of his friends had apologised to him, and Jungkook recognised the significance of the moment. He realised with blinding clarity that out of the three people he had invited as his personal guests on this tour, there was only one he truly wanted to stay here.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, a little overwhelmed. “I’m—thanks for doing this now.”

Minjun nodded and the two of them shared a moment of comfortable silence. But Jungkook couldn’t quiet his thoughts—Sid wasn’t here, but he still couldn’t shake his presence.

“There was something that Sid said to me today,” he spoke up. “I-I think he likes her.”

“What?” Minjun was surprised. He glanced back at the tooth on the floor in front of him. “What’d he say?”

“He—just some shit.” Jungkook looked down and pulled on a loose thread on his sweatpants. “About how he could have convinced her to date him.”

Minjun blinked in another wave of surprise. He had a very different understanding of what Sid felt for you and Jungkook, but now he was confused.

“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” he tried to rationalise.

“No, but think about it,” Jungkook said. “Why else would he go to such great lengths to persuade me to participate in this bet? To force me to continue it after I’d clearly won?”

Again, Minjun needed a minute to find a response.

Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away. “See, you can’t disagree.”

“I mean…” Minjun bit the corner of his lower lip. “I guess it makes sense, but—”

“I know that she wouldn’t consider him in a million years,” Jungkook added. “I’m not even thinking about that, I’m just… wow. How fucking stupid. He ruined this for himself and for me.”

His friend sighed. He didn’t want to keep talking about this. “Yeah.”

“And I let him,” Jungkook finished.

“Yeah,” Minjun repeated. “He deserved getting his tooth knocked out. And you deserve the swollen eye.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. He wasn’t going to disagree, and Minjun smiled in relief when he saw the humour in his friend’s eyes.

This had to happen, Minjun thought. Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to move on if he had not found another way to prove that his own self—and his relationship with you—was the one thing he would never lose, no matter how hard Sid tried.

“What, um,” Jungkook asked after a minute, “what are you going to do when Sid asks about the keys after the bet is over?”

Minjun, feeling much more relaxed, merely shrugged. “Knock another one of his teeth out?”

Jungkook laughed and smacked his friend on the shoulder, despite the pain in his head when he moved.

“Oh, come on,” Minjun said, grinning. “He still has, like, fifteen left.”

“I’m sure he has more left. Implants or not.”

“Now, see, implants are harder to knock out. We’d have to meet and discuss the logistics of that. Perhaps attack in secret.”

Jungkook laughed again, and Minjun joined in, too.

They both felt significantly better.

However, Jungkook still had a lot of things to take care of as soon as he got up from the floor.

He should have told you about the bet earlier, but he hadn’t. All he could do now was make amends for a lapse in judgement with terrible consequences.

No.

There would be no consequences. He would make sure to never hurt you again.

And he’d begin by following through with his plan.

Jungkook asked Minjun to give him some time alone and found his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. He dialled Seokjin’s number, and Seokjin referred him to the Head of Security on tour, Mick.

Mick was lovely. He fostered pets and looked after injured animals in his cabin on the edge of the forest, where he lived with his three dogs. Jungkook had visited him once and felt very much like he imagined Harry Potter to feel when he saw Hagrid’s hut for the first time.

Mick was also three times larger than Jungkook. His primary responsibility on tour was preventing intoxicated individuals from climbing onto the stage and ensuring trespassers did not decide to have an excursion on the band’s tour bus.

Now, Jungkook decided as he spelled Sid’s name to Mick over the phone, Mick was going to make sure that Isidore Hamlet Mercer-Hastings—a name that likely had Shakespeare himself rolling in his grave—could not enter any venue where Rated Riot was scheduled to perform.

It wasn’t quite as dramatic as a restraining order, Jungkook supposed. But blacklisting Sid from his gigs seemed like a good start.

Half an hour later, Jungkook had barricaded himself behind the curtains in his bunk. He was fully awake but he didn’t want you to see what he looked like.

Naturally, you had assumed he was sleeping and had no reason to talk to him anyway, so you kept yourself busy with an e-book in your bunk as the bus made its way to the airport.

Then, most unfortunately, your relative peace was disturbed when you received a text message from Nick Zhou. It was as if he could sense the terrible turmoil in your mind and your heart, and he wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Things like that happened sometimes, you thought. Coincidences—unless you decided to treat them as signs.

Nick had sent you a picture of the perfectly green palm trees visible through a window. You zoomed in and assumed that he had taken the picture somewhere in Australia, where Reconnaissance were currently on tour.

In the text below, Nick said, “new album in progress. Would be nice to have you with us when we put it out!”

Anxious suddenly, you considered putting your phone away and just carrying on with your e-book. But your uncertainty was relentless—maybe if you replied to him, you’d gain a clearer understanding of what you should do.

You typed back, “hope you’re having fun! I’m still thinking about it.”

Then you exhaled and tossed your phone to the farthest corner of your bunk so as not to be bothered in case it vibrated again. Texting him back didn’t work. You felt just as tense as before.

You exhaled and attempted to keep reading, but silence was simply not meant for you today.

With the flight to Manchester only five hours away, Luna decided it was a good time to discuss with you what had happened in the changing room.

“Hey,” she whispered as she crept up to your bunk, moving stealthily and quietly as if she were a secret agent on a mission.

You looked up at her from your screen. “Hi.”

She wanted to talk to you, but now that she was doing it—or getting to it—she didn’t quite know how to proceed; or even where to begin, actually.

“So, um,” she said, sitting down on your bunk and taking her time to find a comfortable position. You put your tablet away and watched her. “I wanted to check up on you a little.”

You smirked. “Yeah? But not a lot?”

“Not yet.” She smiled at your teasing question. “You’re not critical, but I do think I have some cause for concern.”

You pulled yourself up and pushed a pillow behind your back to sit straighter. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you and Jungkook seem to be avoiding each other.”

You regarded her for a minute until you reached the inevitable conclusion—you suspected it yesterday, and now Luna’s knowing gaze fully convinced you that it was true.

“You know about the bet,” you said.

Luna looked around. No one on the bus appeared to be listening. Nearly everyone that she could see either had headphones on, or had their curtains drawn.

She glanced back at you and settled her gaze on the corner of your dark brown blanket.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I found out about it at the same time as you, more or less. Jungkook had, um—he’d talked to Taehyung before he told you.”

“Ah,” you said. “Well, that’s—I’m glad we all know, then.”

Luna noted the imperceptible look in your eyes. She wasn’t sure if you’d meant what you said.

Really, you weren’t sure, either. On the one hand, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to retell what had happened to your friend. You weren’t sure you’d manage.

But on the other hand, the fact that other people knew about the bet did not feel particularly comforting—because this was one of the situations that you’d been desperate to avoid: your relationship with Jungkook getting so out of hand that the people around you began to talk about it.

However, you had been thinking a lot in the last few days and you realised that learning about the bet had helped you find some relief, too.

There was something bothering you for weeks now, something that was off in your surroundings, and now you finally knew what it was. It felt like a crooked picture frame on the wall. Like a non-alphabetical arrangement of books on a shelf. Like a bet about your relationship.

And now that you knew, the world had realigned again. You would have been able to breathe easier if you weren’t so embarrassed that other members of your team also knew about it.

“Well, aside from that,” Luna went on, keeping a careful eye on any changes in your expression. “I talked to Jungkook today. And I’m not defending him—”

“If you say ‘but’ next,” you interrupted, “that will negate your point, you know.”

“However,” Luna said instead and you rolled your eyes. “I think the bet is only half the picture. I mean, it’s shit. He fucked up. But I think that he’s been with you because he really wanted to be. Not because of the bet.”

If you had shaken your head any more vigorously, it might have flown off. Luna was slightly annoyed by your adamant rejection of everything she was saying—which made it easier for her to tell you the news.

“He fought Sid,” she said.

You frowned. “So?”

“Knocked his tooth out, I think.”

Your frown turned into shock as your eyebrows shot up nearly all the way to your hairline. When Luna said that they fought, you obviously did not expect it to be a physical altercation.

“They fought?”  you repeated.

“Yeah. Because Sid can’t keep his mouth shut,” she said. “Jungkook loathes the guy. I don’t know what sort of friendship they had before, but there’s none of that left. If I hadn’t walked in, I don’t know—I mean, he—he hates him.” Luna swallowed here, figuring that additional details might make it harder for her to make her point. “But more than that, it looked to me like Jungkook just hates himself. Now, what you want to do next, that’s up to you. I just wanted to tell you what I thought. I talked to him. He was miserable.”

“Well.” You swallowed. “He lost the bet.”

“Not about the bet. He has feelings for you. Real feelings.”

“How—”

“Don’t ask me how I know that,” she cut you off before you could ask exactly that. “These things you can just see. And it’s especially obvious in him. Because, look… Here are the facts. He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you. Or he could have gotten back together with you and won the bet. If not, he could have waited for this to pass, or until his friends told you. But he was the one who told you that he fucked up. That’s got to count for something. It’s okay if it’s not enough. But it—well, it sort of feels like a start. Because he finally got it through his thick head that this is what matters. You. He loves you.”

Your skin shivered—an automatic reaction to these words—but you scoffed. “And knocking out Sid’s tooth is a way to show it.”

Luna groaned and was about to protest, but you stopped her by shaking your head again.

“Luna—I mean—thank you, but… this is the same shit again,” you said. “The exact same shit that made us break up the first time. Except now, there’s so much more at stake. It’s no longer just about us.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Is it, really? I mean, I understand why you would think that, considering your—uh, your job. But it’s… Really, it’s just you. The two of you. As it’s always been.”

You sighed and pulled the sleeves of your turtleneck down until you could hide your fists in them. You kept your gaze on the blanket beneath you—undoubtedly disagreeing with her again—and Luna let out a soft, tired breath.

“I’m—whatever you do next, I’ll be on your side,” she said. “If you walk away, I walk away. It’s simple. I just think it’d do you two good to talk this out. When you’re ready. So that you would know what you’re walking away from.”

You were starting to shake your head again, but stopped abruptly, realising the futility of it. You weren’t actually disagreeing with Luna’s point, after all.

“It would be good,” you said. “But I don’t want to talk to him about this. This was a mistake from the very beginning.”

“So… what, then?” she asked, worried about the burden of even more unresolved feelings that you would have to carry around every day if you allowed this to linger. If this became another thing that you never talked to anyone about. “You think you can just go back to the way things were?”

“No,” you said. “Because I’m still very annoyed. But after that, then yeah. Ideally.”

Luna tried to conceal her skepticism, but it was evident in the way she sucked in her lips and nodded her head. “Okay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the optimism?”

She sighed and turned to face you again.

“I get it,” she said. “I understand why you don’t want to see him right now. But I also… kind of understand why he did what he did.”

Your eyebrows rose again. “Why he made the bet?”

“No,” she said, raising her index finger and closing her eyes to emphasise her point. “Not that. That I don’t understand. I meant the fight with Sid. Sid is a big reason why you’re in this situation and Jungkook had no other choice left. He got into that fight because he’s shit at choosing friends, but he loves you.”

You ran your tongue over your lips and looked back down at your blanket. “I don’t know which one of those things outweighs the other one.”

“Yeah, well, think about that,” she said. “Then talk to him.”

You were both aware that giving this advice was much easier than actually following it, and a silent minute passed without either of you looking at each other as you pondered the future.

“Nick texted me,” you said suddenly. You hadn’t realised how much his message weighed on you until you told her. “Just to check in. And, uh, to remind me of his—his offer.”

Luna did not like this, and she was glad you weren’t looking at her and didn’t see the expression on her face.

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“I told him I’m still thinking about it.”

You felt Luna shifting her weight and fidgeting on the bunk next to you. She was uncomfortable, you could tell.

“You’re, uh… you’re really thinking about this, then?” she asked.

You threw your head back and rested it on the pillow. “I’m thinking about a lot these days.”

“Well, that’s—that’s good. Right?” she said, quietly hoping that your contemplations would eventually lead you to a decision that would cause you less suffering. She didn’t think leaving Rated Riot was that decision. You had made a family here. “Take your time with these things. Really think them through. Avoid everyone for a short while if that’s what you need.”

“Hmm. How can I avoid everyone, though?” you asked dryly. “If Jungkook got into a fight, I need to see him.”

“Ah.” Luna finally looked at you, feeling guilty somehow, as if she was the one who had punched him. “Yeah, that’s probably true. He, um—it’s not a disaster, but he did miss a couple of, uh—”

“Is he bleeding?” you asked, appreciating her effort to convey the situation without causing you alarm, but also without downplaying it.

“Well, not anymore,” she said. “At least, he wasn’t the last time I saw him. There is a, um—a black eye situation, though.”

You groaned and dropped your hands on the mattress in irritation.

“Fuck—you see? He’s doing it again. Leaving me no choice but to—oh, fuck it.” You slapped your hands on your knees and sat up straight. “He’ll have to wait until we arrive at the airport. I’m done jumping at the slightest sound he makes, manager or not.”

“I agree with that,” Luna said. “But I see that you don’t really mean it.”

You closed your eyes. “I have to mean it. I know it’s my job, and I know Jungkook never forced me into anything I didn’t consent to, but he just—this whole time, he acted like he was genuine when he was just doing what he always does. Playing along with Sid’s sick little games. Maybe he deserves to bleed a little for that.”

Luna was about to argue, but only nodded. She was very glad you were talking about this, even though you had dismissed everything she’d told you about Jungkook’s feelings.

She knew that you needed more time. You’d heard her. You just had to be in the right frame of mind to believe her.

She knew you’d get there, just as she knew Jungkook was not going to give up on you.

“Yeah,” Luna finally said. “He can wait. Do you... want to talk about it? About what he did?”

You looked murderous. “Absolutely not.”

She expected as much.

“Well, in that case,” she pulled her phone out, “you want to see something that Crowley did to my mum’s curtains? She took a video to show me.”

Your tension seemed to fade straight away. Luna’s troublemaker cat—named aptly after a Supernatural character with a redemption arc that Crowley, the cat, could only dream about—had never failed to ease your mind.

You needed some time alone. And you were very happy to be alone with her as she stretched out on the mattress next to you and played the video on her phone.

You caught glimpses of Jungkook and his heavy sunglasses on the way to your gate at the airport, but you didn’t have the time to check how bad he looked. The other Rated Riot members had already smacked him on the back of his head after they saw his band-aids, so you decided to wait until you could talk to him in private.

About an hour later, you spotted him going to the men’s room. You waited a few minutes and stood up, too.

The restroom was empty except for the two of you, and you quietly placed your carry-on bag on the ground next to the door. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed you enter.

“There you are,” you announced from the doorway.

Jungkook flinched and splashed himself as he washed his hands in front of the wall-sized mirror.

“You were—were you looking for me?” he asked. The automatic sink stopped and he moved his hands back under the faucet to get the water running again.

“I’ve been informed you have a black eye,” you said, coming closer. “I wanted to check the damage myself.”

The side of his face that was visible to you showed no signs of injury, but when you looked at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the red and purple bruises on the side of his face, concealed by a few persistent band-aids.

Jungkook swallowed and shook his hands several times to dry them. Then, he stepped back, allowing you to examine him. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” you repeated. His gaze remained fixed on yours as you scanned his features. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really,” he said. “Want to tell me if you’re leaving to work with Reconnaissance?”

“Not really.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, then. Can I ask—”

“No,” you said immediately. He stopped speaking and clenched his jaw.

You were contemplating if you should have taken him to the hospital before the flight. You were also thinking about what to do with his bruises tomorrow since he had a performance, and appearing on stage with a black eye did not seem particularly professional.

“Does it hurt?” you asked. “These band-aids—did you change them?”

“No,” he said. It wasn’t clear which question he was responding to, but his answer seemed to fit both.

“You need to change them,” you said. “And clean the wounds properly.”

“I’m not going to a hospital.”

You sighed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not that bad,” he said.

You looked back at the band-aids on the side of his face. They remained on his skin through the sheer force of will. Cuts and bruises peeked from underneath the dried blood.

“It looks bad with band-aids on,” you said. “I can only imagine what it looks like without.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Luna said so.”

You knew right away that this was impossible; Luna would have known better.

“She said no such thing,” you replied.

“Okay, maybe she didn’t,” he conceded with a quiet groan. “But I’m still not going to the hospital.”

The irony of the moment—and how you’d insisted that you were okay a few days ago, just like he was doing now—was completely lost on you. You felt exhausted.

“Why…” you started to say, then sighed as you brought your fingers over your closed eyes. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Do what?”

“Clean your self-destructive wounds.”

“They’re not self-destructive—”

“Really?” Your eyes shot open, ablaze with agitation. “So, getting punched by Sid was, what? A fight for dominance that you’d planned in advance?”

He cleared his throat with indignation and continued his previous statement, “and I’m not making you clean my wounds. I’m fine.”

“Sit down,” you said, turning to grab your carry-on bag. “You’re not fine.”

Awkwardly swaying in the same spot, Jungkook looked around. “Where do you want me to sit? We’re in a public bathroom.”

“Jesus, Jungkook!” you groaned irritably. You were too tired to think of every little detail, every action, and reaction. You just wanted to take a nap on the plane. “I don’t care. Sit on the floor. Or on the toilet.”

“Neither seems sterile…”

“Good thing you didn’t get punched in the ass, then.”

He huffed but still went into one of the cubicles, lowered the toilet lid with a scrunched nose and sat down on it.

He leaned over to hold the door open with his hand until you entered a few minutes later. Before either of you could grasp how small the space was now that you were in the closed cubicle, you took out the antiseptic spray from your amateur medical kit and grabbed a cotton pad. By that point, Jungkook was too worried about what you’d do to think about how close you were.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

Concerned, he watched you pull a blue latex glove on one of your hands and spray the antiseptic into the air, aiming it at the floor to test it.

“No,” you admitted, taking a step towards him and stopping between his legs. With your gloved hand, you carefully peeled off the heavy band-aids from his face and tossed them into an empty plastic bag you’d brought for this specific purpose. “But neither did you when you picked a fight with Sid, so I think we’re even.”

He grimaced as the exposed lacerations on his skin immediately began to sting. “W-what makes you think I was the one who started that fight?”

“The fact that you won’t tell me what it was about,” you replied, bending your knees slightly to inspect his face. You were willing to help him look after his wounds, but changing the bandages was as far as you’d go—if he needed stitches, you’d drag him to the nearest emergency room.

“You know what it was about,” he mumbled, staring at the floor.

“I don’t.”

He didn’t want to say it. You knew he didn’t want to say it—that was why you were making him do it.

“It started about the bet,” he admitted finally. “But then he… said some things I didn’t like. Not that I liked what he said about the bet, either. But I got myself into that mess, so I—”

“What did he say?” you asked, interrupting his diversion.

You covered his left eye with a cotton pad to protect it, shook the bottle of antiseptic a few times, and sprayed it on the exposed wounds.

Jungkook winced as he felt the stinging pain grow sharper. He clutched the lid of the toilet seat, forgetting all about how he’d avoided touching it before.

“Just… some bullshit about you,” he said through clenched teeth.

Surprised, you pulled back to look at him. “He said something about me?”

“Yeah. So I socked him in the cheek.”

You watched him for a quiet minute.

Honestly, if Sid had said something about you, you probably would have punched him yourself if Jungkook hadn’t. But the way Jungkook phrased this—and this whole situation, in general—was so ridiculous that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to maintain a straight face.

“In the mouth,” you corrected. “Or so I hear.”

Jungkook couldn’t subdue the smile on his lips at the amusement that you tried very hard to hide. So, you knew about Sid’s tooth then.

“That was after he wouldn’t stop talking,” he said.

“Ah. Well,” you returned to work and gently patted his cheek with the cotton pad to remove the excess antiseptic, “I appreciate you defending my honour.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

You scoffed. “What do you want me to do? Jump on your white horse and ride off into the sunset with you?”

The light-hearted tone of your voice suddenly amplified your close proximity—he felt his legs tremble slightly as you stood between them to reach his face better. He wanted to reach out and wrap himself around you, to thank you, and to apologise again.

Instead, he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

“Well, that’d be nice,” he muttered. Then, added louder, “or, at the very least, you could stop burning me.”

“I’m disinfecting,” you said as you leaned in again, checking if the spray had absorbed into his bruises yet. His breath caught in his throat. You added, “I think.”

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever felt a longing so intense that it could overshadow all physical pain.

“You think,” he repeated breathlessly. “Th—that’s reassuring.”

“It’s what my mum used to use when my brother and I would get cuts or scratches, and things like that,” you explained defensively. “Of course, this is hardly a scratch in your case, but I have nothing better to offer.”

He didn’t mean to come across as accusatory. He didn’t know what he was saying at all. You still smelled like apples. He was afraid he would pass out.

“This is fine,” he said.

He knew that you were already doing more than your job description entailed and your personal relationship permitted, and he was grateful for it. He hadn’t meant to cause you any additional problems, and he wanted to inform you of the steps he’d taken to fix the ones he’d already caused.

He waited until you had finished searching through your medical kit before speaking again.

“I, um—I banned Sid from Rated Riot shows,” he said.

You turned to look at him so quickly that a tired muscle in your neck spasmed in protest. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mick will take care of it if he shows up.”

“Mick—you banned Sid?”

“I banned Sid,” he repeated slowly, giving you a minute to process the news. “It’s done. I don’t—I never should have brought him to Europe with me.”

You straightened and attempted to compose yourself, but your mind was suddenly bombarding you with question marks and software errors every time you tried to form a coherent thought.

“Well, that’s—that’s right,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “And it’s about time you realised that.”

You didn’t know what else to say. Congratulating him right now, considering the repercussions of his last confrontation with Sid, seemed in poor taste.

Not to mention, you were a little confounded. After your last argument outside the bus, you’d expected a lot of drunk nights and a lot of new mayhem that you would have to put back in order. You weren’t expecting mature decisions.

Jungkook didn’t notice the utter shock in your voice, however, because his pulse tried to deafen him with a dreadful paranoia, telling him that this was too little and too late.

Notenough-notenough-notenough, the beat of his heart echoed in his ears.

“I know,” Jungkook said, louder than he’d intended. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You pulled out a new cotton pad and mumbled something under your breath.

Jungkook gazed up at you as you hovered over him with your medical kit. “Can I—can I ask you something, though?”

You gently wiped the side of his temple where the antiseptic had dripped, all while trying to calm down the chaos in your mind. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Reconnaissance?”

There was a long pause as you returned to your kit—more for the purpose of giving yourself some time to think rather than out of necessity.

“I don’t know,” you finally said. “I wasn’t seriously considering it, and it never came up in a casual conversation.”

“We spent three days in Amsterdam, just the two of us,” he said. “How could it not come up?”

You gave him a look. “Really? You think you can ask me that when you knew—and participated—in the bet for weeks before telling me about it?”

Jungkook looked down. “It wasn’t weeks...”

“Well, fantastic.”

Unsettled by your sarcasm, he added, “and I told you, eventually.”

“No, I actually guessed it before you told me,” you said with one hand on your hip as you gazed at the restroom wall behind him, deep in thought. “I told you that you were only acting like that because of some external force. And you really were doing it to win a—”

“No.” He shook his head so fiercely that you almost worried he’d injure himself more. “The bet gave me a push. But I wanted you all along, and—”

“No,” you disagreed, turning away to throw the used cotton pads into the plastic bag. “You—just—just don’t.”

He already knew that this would be the wrong thing to say before he even said it. He simply couldn’t control himself—but he tried to now.

“I’m just—I’m trying to say that this hurt me, too,” he said slowly. “You’re—you might leave to work with a different band. A-and I was the only one who didn’t know about that.”

“I—”

“I know,” he continued louder, “that this is not the same as what I did. It’s not even close. But I still—I feel like this should have been something you talked to me about.”

You sighed and grabbed a glass bottle of iodine-based ointment from your bag. “It probably was.”

“Are you really considering it?” he asked. “Leaving, I mean.”

So much had changed since you told Maggie and Luna that you’d stay, and repeated the same to Yoongi and Namjoon.

All you could say to Jungkook now was a dejected, “I don’t know.”

The tight grip of pain around his chest did not ease, but he didn’t expect it to. Not yet, at least.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said, lifting his gaze. Both of you quickly averted your eyes as if the eye contact burnt. “For this and… for everything.”

You nodded in acknowledgement of the apology but did not reply to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Reconnaissance,” you said instead. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

He nodded back and you continued to work in silence. You were glad that your current task required your full attention, so you did not have to linger on how wounded he looked—not just physically, but somehow intrinsically, too. If you glanced at him, all the tears and cuts and bruises on his heart would have been as visible as they were on his face.

You applied the ointment to his temple now that the antiseptic had dried—and Jungkook clenched his teeth again, keeping the painful hiss contained. The ointment was probably excessive, and it might dye his skin an odd shade of purple, but you didn’t know what else to do.

When you looked closer, his cuts didn’t appear deep enough to require stitches, so all you could do at the moment was ensure they didn’t become infected – and this questionable procedure should have accomplished that.

You pressed some gauze to the more severe wounds and bandaged them—as much as you could. You used smaller band-aids for the less serious cuts. Then, you stepped back to look.

This would need work. He looked like he slammed the side of his head into a wall and a toddler had attempted to provide first aid.

“This should hold for now before I come up with something else,” you said. “I have to go. I’ll need to find a way to incorporate this,” you gestured around his face, “into your look for tomorrow’s show.”

You turned to push the cubicle door open, then stopped short when you felt his cold, tentative fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, releasing your hand as soon as he noticed you looking down at his grip. “Just… just tell me what’s going to happen.”

“With your face?” you asked with a confused frown. “It’s going to hurt for a while probably, but it—”

“With us,” he cut you off.

You looked away, maintaining your posture even as your heart refused to listen to your mind and proceeded to pound furiously in your chest.

“There’s no ‘us’,” you said.

“You can’t say that.” He stood up and suddenly reduced the empty space between you in the cubicle. “Not after everything that happened.”

‘Everything that happened’ seemed to have a bitter flavour—he could see the distaste on your face as your tongue prodded your cheek.

“It was obviously a mistake,” you said.

You remembered it all, you knew what it meant. But you didn’t want to trust any of the moments in your memory.

Jungkook could taste your bitterness in his own mouth.

You added ruthlessly, “and it’s over.”

“What’s over?” he asked. He tried to place a hand on his hip, but his trembling fingers slid down his hoodie and his hand dropped to his side.

“Whatever this is,” you said, and each of your following words felt like a new scratch deep inside of him. “Whatever you were doing to win your bet, and whatever I was stupidly playing along with.”

There was nothing but a few breaths separating the two of you in this cubicle, yet you may as well have been in a different orbit entirely. Desperate, Jungkook raised his hands to the back of his head and intertwined his fingers.

“I wasn’t—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he protested—not for the first time. With one more shake of your head, you turned around and pushed the door of the cubicle open. “Look, wait! I’m sorr—”

“It’s over, Jungkook,” you said, pausing halfway. “Stop.”

“How can it—I don’t—just—just tell me this one thing, okay? Before you go,” he pleaded, following you out of the cubicle and watching you toss your medical kit into your carry-on.

There was a hint of sadness in your eyes when you looked up. “What?”

“If there was no bet, wou—would you have agreed to be with me again?”

Your pulse reverberated in your mind, shrieking and piercing, as you shook your head and turned away.

“If there was no bet,” you said, “you wouldn’t have even wanted to be with me again.”

For a minute, you both watched the floor in thick, pain-coated silence. It consumed you, this otherworldly quietness—your thoughts stilled, even your bodies seemed to pause and wait.

That wasn’t true, Jungkook wanted to say—and should have said. But he was so tired of saying things and having to defend them, to prove he meant them.

He wondered if there was anything he could say to you from this point on that you would believe. He loved you so much—he’s never loved anyone else, the very idea of it did not seem possible—yet he made you think he wasn’t serious.

He watched you leave—again—and felt his chest shrink to accommodate the slowing of his heartbeat—again, again—as he struggled to inhale, let alone open his mouth—again, again, again—realising, slowly, that there might not be enough words in existence to fix this.

“I love you,” he still tried, but the restroom door had already closed and he wasn’t sure if you’d heard him. Or if it made a difference if you did.

There was something very ironic about the plans you had for the rest of the day once the plane landed in Manchester.

The concert was originally scheduled for tomorrow, but the venue had suffered a flood from a broken pipe a few nights ago, causing everything that the organisers had promised you to be ruined. They tried to fix it, but they needed some more time. You found out on the plane that the concert would have to be postponed until the day after tomorrow.

To make matters worse, Ren, the bassist of Poison Tongue—Rated Riot’s opening act—had broken his foot at the airport (you were afraid to ask how) and was hospitalised, rendering the band incapable of performing. You needed to find a replacement on extremely short notice.

This was a crisis, but only another one of many. You hadn’t slept at all on the plane, but despite your pounding headache, you were grateful for a chance to keep busy, and you had a precise plan of action.

You would find the venue staff and direct them to Seokjin—after checking if Seokjin was even here.

Next, you would make sure the equipment arrived safely and unpacking it at the damaged venue did not pose any risk to your team.

After that, you would seek Maggie’s help with an online ad for a new opening act.

Then, you would call the label and sweet-talk them before the inevitable black-eye pictures.

You would also devise a plan to handle the aforementioned black eye, which, hopefully, will have improved by the time of the concert.

And, most importantly, you would avoid Jungkook.

Really, the plan was almost foolproof. You figured your to-do list would continue to expand, even after you completed certain tasks, so you essentially had no chance of being left alone with your thoughts or accidentally running into him.

But then, on your way out of the band’s dressing room, you noticed that your surroundings were spinning more than usual. It happened occasionally, this abrupt lightheadedness after you stood up too quickly. But this time, it persisted even after you crossed the corridor.

You tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t anything new, you were just overwhelmed. This had to be the stress—you hadn’t slept and you had so much to do that it was normal to feel dizzy.

You kept walking. Until you had to trace your hand along the patterns of the wallpaper on the wall to stay steady. Until the edges of your vision blurred. Until the wet floorboards beneath your feet wobbled. Until the room grew dark.

You thought you could feel yourself leaning against the wall and slowly lowering your body to the floor. You thought you could feel the damp floor under your fingertips. You thought you could hear someone’s voice in the distance.

For a split moment before you collapsed, it occurred to you that you were really very tired. And that Jungkook had warned you about having another fainting spell if you weren’t careful.

But then your heart rate restricted the flow of blood to your brain, and there was not a single conscious thought left in your vacant mind.

As it happened sometimes—coincidences, unless you treated them as signs—Jungkook was the one who found you.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “blood sport”

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[papercorgiworld]

I pretty please request a little fic abt Enzo being jealous, you write him so well 🙁

“I’m your brother’s best friend, I'm allowed to be jealous.”

A jealous Enzo Berkshire x Nott!reader imagine 

Cedric asking you out has innocent Enzo freaking out.

Warning: a little bit of smut, little bit

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Blaise asks as he looks at Theodore who stares at you and Enzo entering the great hall laughing. “What?” Theo asks lazily. “That Enzo’s drooling over your sister?” Theodore snorts. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Rather Enzo than Matt.” Mattheo’s brows furrow as his eyes roll to Theo, raising his hands offended with his mouth still stuffed with food. “What’s wrong with me?” Mattheo says after quickly swallowing his food, but is quick to add: “On second thought, don’t answer that question.” Blaise chuckles but returns his focus on Theodore, asking silently to answer his earlier question seriously. “Enzo’s a good guy.” Theo explains. “I kinda hope they’ll end up together. He’ll be good to her and she’ll be good for him. Enzo doesn’t get into fights and he’s not a possessive psycho. He’ll treat her right.” Mattheo’s eyes knit together again. “Why do I feel so attacked?” Theodore ignores him and continues with a hushed voice since Enzo and you are approaching. “I kinda hope he’ll finally make a move.” Blaise raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Don’t hold your breath mate.” Enzo plops down next to Blaise. “Hold your breath for what?” Theodore smirks. “For Dumbledore to give slytherin points for something.” A soft laugh leaves your lips. “Never happening.” Enzo’s eyes focus on your smile as you fill your plate. That smile. 

Enzo was madly in love with you, but you were Theo’s little baby sister so he assumed you were off limits for him. However, Cedric Digory wasn’t friends with Theodore so there was no reason for him to stay away from you. You and Cedric had been good friends for years, much to Enzo’s dismay and every year you got prettier and every year Cedric showed more interest in you and every year Enzo ended up hating Cedric more. 

***

“Oh all bowtruckles in a tree! He asked you out!” Luna's eyes go wide, not believing what she had just heard. You nod and smile, leaving the classroom. “Yes, I know, crazy, right?” But your joy instantly disappears when you see Enzo approaching, his soft demeanour changing with every step he takes. Enzo was the best, but every year you noticed how he got more and more annoyed with guys showing interest in you. He also had made it very clear that nothing would ever happen between you two because bro code and stuff. Honestly, the most ridiculous thing ever, especially since your brother had the hottest friends ever. Right now, you were seriously getting annoyed with Enzo, what did he expect of you, to stay single forever? Not happening. “Who asked who out?” Enzo forces a smile as his eyes move between you and Luna. You sigh. “Cedric asked me out.” You say, bracing yourself for whatever irrational argument Enzo was gonna throw at you. “Ah, yes, that ‘good’ friend of yours that I’ve been warning you about since forever. I told you that guy is only after one thing-” You make eye contact with Luna and raise your eyebrows, before interrupting Enzo. Leaning a bit his way you whisper: “Well, I hope so, because honestly Enz, I’m only after one thing as well.” Your voice sounds bittersweet to Enzo and he watches you and Luna walk away giggling. He clenches his jaw as he considers his options. Talk reason into you, impossible. Punch reason into Cedric, not my style. Or be a tattletale and spill the news to your brother...

***

“She’s going on a date with Digory!” Enzo yells as soon as he enters the slytherin common room and spots Theodore. Theo looks up to see a fuming Enzo approach. “You should do something.” Enzo says, calming down a bit, but also annoyed by the lack of response from Theo. “Like what?” Theodore asks eyebrows knitting together as he folds the newspaper he was reading before Enzo stormed in. “Tell her not to go. The guy’s bad news.” Theodore lazily stares at Enzo. “The guy’s a Hufflepuff, he’s barely news, let alone bad news. And tell her not to go… You obviously don’t know much about siblings, but let me tell you this: they don’t listen.” 

“What! You’re just gonna let her?” Theodore was getting a little frustrated with Enzo’s tone and Mattheo could barely keep himself from laughing at seeing Enzo so upset. “Yeah, as long as she doesn’t date Mattheo I’m good with it.” Theo says with a bit of a sterner voice and Mattheo frowns feeling offended a second time today, but Enzo’s clearly angry with Theo and shakes his head. “You rather have her date someone like Cedric than one of your friends?!” There’s silence but Enzo’s just so terrified of you going out and falling in love with someone while he’s left pining, that all his feelings boil over into anger. “What kind of a shit brother are you!”  At those words Theodore gets up in a second, almost pressing his head against Enzo’s to make sure Enzo gets the message. “I’m not a shit brother and I never said that I'd rather have her date Cedric than one of my friends, just not Mattheo but trust me Berkshire if you keep this crap up then you’ll be out of my sister’s life in no time.”

Enzo’s so angry that he can barely process what Theodore is saying, but he’s sane enough to walk away and not pick a fight with his friend and the brother of the girl’s crushing on. 

“Why always use me as the definition of trouble?” Mattheo complains, making Theodore roll his eyes. “Cause you are, I just hoped we had at least one sane friend in our group, but apparently Enzo’s just as dysfunctional as the rest of us.” Theodore sighs, unclenching his fists and sitting back down.

 ***

You leave your classroom to find a shaky Enzo pacing the hallway. When he spots you he immediately walks over to you and you can see the nervousness in his eyes. “What's wrong?” You ask as his hand firmly wraps around your arm. “We need to talk. Now.” His voice is urgent and his eyes avoid yours. “Enzo calm-” “No, it’s important.” Enzo snaps at you and pushes a door open, shoving you into a broom closet. “You can’t go out with him.” Enzo states as soon as he closes the door behind him. There’s a dim light that lights his pained face just enough for you to see. “Enzo-” Your voice is soothing, but Enzo’s too afraid of what you’ll say so he continues to rant. “It physically hurts when I think of you being with someone else, loving someone else. So just, I beg you, just don’t go out with him.” He sighs and moves a hand over his sweaty forehead. “I almost had a fight with your brother, because I’m freaking out and I’m freaking out because I know Cedric is a good guy and you like him and you’ll love him and forget about me and I- I-.”

You grab his face and place an urgent kiss on his lips, hoping you’ll keep Enzo from spiralling any further, but to your surprise he suddenly spirals into a whole different direction. Eagerly kissing back, one hand finding the small of your back as he takes a step towards you pushing you against the wall of the small closet you’re in. “I need you.” Enzo breathes lips only inches away from yours and his eyes piercing you, silently begging you to let him love you. “Let me have you.” His husky hungry voices make your knees go weak. “Have me, Enz.” You whisper, meeting his lips with an equal amount of hunger. What took you so long. He kisses you until you're out of breath then he leaves sloppy kisses on your jaw, before sucking at the flesh of your neck like you taste divine to him. His hands lustfully trace every inch of your body, squeezing the flesh of your thighs and ass. “I’ll make you love me.” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull at the sound of his determined voice. Not that you needed him to do anything, you had already fallen for him before he had even seen you as someone more than just Theo’s sister. However, you were more than enjoying Enzo working for your love. 

***

You straighten your skirt and do your best to comb your hair with your fingers to look as decent as possible after what Enzo had just done to you in that tiny closet. “You look fine.” Enzo ensures smiling at you adoring your beauty as you stand there nervously watching if anyone has seen you two leave the broom closet. You force a weak smile and Enzo can’t help but get nervous as well. Though not about getting caught with you, but about whether or not he had convinced you to not go out with Cedric. Even having you moan and cry his name wasn’t enough to reassure him that you were his. He needed to know. “Are you still going out with him?” Enzo blurs and your eyes meet his. Is he for real? “Was this really all because Cedric asked me out?” Enzo shrugs, a bit embarrassed about how he had acted. A soft chuckle leaves your lips. “Really Lorenzo Berkshire you got jealous?” His hands sink into his pockets and he stares at the floor, thinking of a good response. “I’m your brother’s best friend, I’m allowed to be jealous.” 

You frown at his silly excuse. “Pretty sure Matt’s my brother's best friend and even if you were that’s not an excuse at all. Neither does it excuse what you just did to me in that closet.” Enzo takes a step closer to you and meets your eyes. “What do you want me to say?” Your eyes drown in his. “The truth Enz.”

He takes a deep breath, before confessing. “I’m so incredibly jealous, because I’m in love with you.” A happy smile tugs on your lips and Enzo’s delighted at how happy you are with his confession.

“You know… I never said yes to Cedric.” Enzo’s eyes widen and his mouth almost drops. “What?” A sweet laugh escapes you at the view of his shocked face. “I only ever said that he asked… I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t because I’m in love with you.” Within a split second Enzo’s lips crash onto yours. You had just made this man the happiest in all of Hogwarts.

Word count: 1771

Picture link: https://pin.it/2LVDPbwNS

[beskarandblasters]

Mothman Fever

Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Shout out to @nostalxgic for making this killer graphic for me!! Also the kick ass banners and !!Mothman!! dividers are by @saradika!! This was my first time writing any sort of monster fucking so let me know how I did!!

Summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no outbreak, drinking, semi public sex, use of pet names (luna lol), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex pollen, dub con, monsterfucking, no use of y/n

“Don’t you think Mothman is kinda hot?”

You glance at your friend Tara in the rear view mirror and raise your eyebrow. 

“How can a moth be hot?”

“Oh, come on! You know he’s not a normal moth… he’s got like… muscular legs,” Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat. 

“You don’t wanna fuck Mothman?” Tara asks. 

“... No? And you do?”

“How can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?” she continues.

“Mothmanner?” you snort.

“Mothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Not really. I’m more interested in him for scientific purposes.”

“That just leaves more of him for us, Tara,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, after you examine him for research we’ll tag team him.”

“You guys are gross,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.

“Whatcha playin’?” you ask.

“Just a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.”

The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, “Really? The Monster Mash?”

“It’s festive,” she shrugs.

“Oh yeah, turn that shit up,” Tara adds.

You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. You’re into all sorts of cryptids but there’s something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you can’t put your finger on. You’ve been picturing this moment for a long time but… not with Monster Mash playing in the background. 

Janelle turns down the music and says, “Look what I found on Facebook! There’s a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!”

She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details. 

“Sounds like fun. You down?” Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.

“I mean, why not?” you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant. 

To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads “Welcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festival” in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on. 

You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldn’t normally cost a lot but it’s Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices. 

You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. It’s still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and there’s plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says “Mothman ate my entire ass at a Denny’s”, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of converse before heading out with your friends. 

You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a “normal” group photo standing beside it. 

The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time. 

You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And that’s when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find he’s looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. He’s wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, “Who are you waving at?”

“No one,” you say quickly, looking away from the man. 

“Nah, you’re lying. I’m gonna look,” Tara says, starting to turn around. 

“Don’t-” you start but it’s too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave. 

“Him?” she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her. 

“And what about it?” you ask. 

“Oh, he’s hot. Go over there and talk to him,” Janelle says. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tara asks. 

“I’m… not that forward.”

“It’s the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,” Janelle shrugs. 

“Agreed,” Tara nods. 

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly. 

You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if he’s here with another girl?

“Hi, um, I’m here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought I’d say hello,” you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction. 

“Hey there. I’m Joel. Would you like to join me?”

“Are you here with anyone?”

“No, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.”

You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.

“Ah so you’re not from around here?”

“No, just here for the festival, like I’m assuming you are,” he says, gesturing to your shirt. 

And now you feel self conscious of what you’re wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s funny.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.”

“Oh nice. I’m going to that, too.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Well if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.”

“S-sure that sounds like fun. What time?” you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname. 

“Around eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.”

“Sounds good!” 

You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends. 

“And by the way,” he says, stopping you, “I’m Joel.”

You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, “See you tonight, Luna.”

You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didn’t mind. 

“So who is he? What’s his deal?” Tara asks. 

“Uh, his name is Joel and he’s here for the festival.”

“Alone?” Janelle asks. 

“His brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.”

“Who bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?” Janelle says. 

“Not sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.”

“You said yes, right?” Tara questions. 

“I did… Was I not supposed to?”

“No! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks, guys… He’s also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.”

“Oooh,” they both say in unison. 

“It’ll be fun,” you say, “But let’s eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad I’m leaving you guys tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hot,” Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“And older,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll see if it even works out.”

“You sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. He’s gotta be interested,” Janelle continues.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” she laughs.

You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but… that’s not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt that’s a little bit better; one that reads “I kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depot” and opting for a skirt with the same pair of converse. 

Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile. 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No worries. Where are we going?”

“Just one of the local spots downtown. There’s a band playing there tonight.”

“Sounds like fun!” 

And with that you’re walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.

He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar that’s also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. It’s pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least you’ll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on top– how festive.

“You must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if you’re coming here,” he says, half shouting over the loud music. 

“Haha, yeah! My friends think he’s hot.”

“Really?” he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Yeah, I don’t really get it! I just think he’s interesting but if he were real they’d probably try to fuck him or something.”

“You wouldn’t, Luna?” he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again.  

“You would?” you counter. 

“Maybe if he bought me dinner first,” he laughs. 

After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy who’s a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far. 

“I have to ask, Luna… Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks after the third round of drinks. He’s definitely a little tipsy by now. 

“No, sir,” you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out. 

He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, “What do ya say we get out of here?” 

Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state. 

You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar. 

“Where are we going?” you ask when you step back out onto the street. 

“Wherever,” he says nonchalantly, “But tell me Luna, are you a dirty girl?” his large hand grabbing your waist as you walk, pulling you closer into him. 

You can’t deny you want him. And you’re feeling a bit more confident than usual. 

“For you? Sure am.”

“Dirty enough to do it in an alley?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs. 

He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired to say the least.

He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully won’t get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later. 

His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you. 

“This,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, “is all the evidence I needed,” he finishes. 

The deranged and devious look in his eyes as he looks at the physical evidence of how bad you want him makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again. 

“You taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,” he says, coming out as a low growl. 

Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and you’re so drunk you forget you’re in public, letting out a moan that’s just a bit too loud. 

“Shh,” he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quiet…

Until you hear a stern “HEY!” causing you to gasp. 

He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officer’s eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs. 

“Really guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?”

You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next. 

He sighs again and says, “Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goers…”

You blink a few times, in disbelief that he’s letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment you’re feeling. 

He notices the look on your face and asks, “What? You didn’t think that was funny?” while trying to hold back more laughter. 

“Not really!” you say, lightly slapping him on the arm. 

“Aw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It could’ve been a lot worse but it wasn’t!” he reassures you. 

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh. 

Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when you’ll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didn’t go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, “I think I should get back to my friends.”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll take you back now.”

The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, “And I’m excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.”

“Me, too, Luna,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, we’ll have lots of fun tomorrow night.” 

You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case it’s hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, “See you tomorrow, Luna.” And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night. 

Heading back up to the room, you replay the night’s events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that you’re definitely interested in him… but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded. 

“What?” you ask, reading the expression on their faces. 

“An update would’ve been nice,” Tara says. 

“I lost track of time!” you reply. 

“I get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You don’t know his intentions!” Janelle adds. 

“You’re right,” you sigh, “Nothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay! …And that we can finally go to bed now,” Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed. 

“Sorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. I’m just gonna be in the bathroom,” you say. 

They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, there’s several marks and there they are but there’s also… a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it there’s flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe it’s something from the bar? That’s the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him. 

-

The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell you’re in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, it’s time to get ready for what you’re most excited for; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you haven’t heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And you’re starting to worry. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you weren’t worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word. 

You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; “Mothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lot” because why wouldn’t it? 

You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter. 

The sun is just starting to set now and it’s about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel: 

Hey, will I see you tonight?

You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise it comes rather quickly. 

Of course, Luna. Wouldn’t miss it for the world🦋

You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. What’s the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if you’re not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?

You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags there’s a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You can’t blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where there’s a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel. 

And… nothing. The sun sets and you haven’t heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, “Are you okay?” and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you. 

You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise it’s a text from Joel reading:

Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look. 

You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. He’s nowhere to be found. 

You type out: 

I don’t see you. Where are you?

He replies: 

Look behind you.

You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again… nowhere to be found. 

You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:

I can see you. I don’t want to leave the evidence behind… Just come to the trees, Luna.

You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend you’re taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. It’s such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday. 

You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phone’s flashlight. You call out Joel’s name and don’t hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesn’t pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joel’s phone but not Joel… who’s to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel? 

You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with Incoming Call followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you. 

You smell something in the air… something fruity… almost like apple cider… with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whatever’s around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first it’s comforting… But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; it’s daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you can’t believe your eyes. 

Towering above you is Mothman himself. You’re met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. He’s tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead you’re frozen, not in fear… but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable. 

“Joel?” you call out in a small voice. 

The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like it’s burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. It’s like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations you’ve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but it’s not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but it’s still not enough. The creature’s eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.

The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, turning… into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer towards you. He’s completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him. 

“So once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him. 

He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so you’re lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how it’s already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms you’ve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas… barely any relief. 

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, “Still not enough, huh Luna?”

“No. No, it’s not. Please, Joel, I need more.”

He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing you’re well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time you’re coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still… it’s not enough. 

“How you feelin’, Luna?”

“I still… I still need more,” you whine. 

“Beg,” he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Joel, please. I need it,” you beg.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you whine, sounding completely delirious. 

“I suppose,” he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidating…

He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. You’re face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree covered moon above him, completely in awe of what’s happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and it’s powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like it’s never ending. You’re silently grateful you’re on birth control even though you don’t know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you. 

“I bet now you’re good. Completely spent, ain’t that right, Luna?”

“Mhm,” you say, still a little breathless. 

Eventually he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. You’re too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you. 

-

You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But he’s gone. 

You try to remember last night but it’s all foggy, like it’s a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and there’s still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that they’ll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, you’re fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness in your core and a stickiness running down your legs. 

You’re back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags. 

“Don’t be! Looks like you got lucky, too,” Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state. 

“Did you guys-”

“Mhm,” Janelle says, “With those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?”

“You bet I did. But didn’t spot any signs of Mothman?” you ask.  

They both shake their heads no and you sigh. 

“Guess there’s always next year,” you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didn’t even end up using. 

You walk back to your car after you’re all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag. 

You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:

Until next time, Luna🦋

Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition. 

Part two

End note: Hope y'all liked that!!

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[handmade-witch]

Is It Over Now...? Part 2

Pairing: Toxic!Mattheo x fem!Reader

Hogwarts University!AU

Warnings: cursing, substance use (alcohol and marijuana), cheating ((please lmk if I missed any))

Read Part 1 here

[[AN: thank you for the notes and support on part 1!! 💓💓 if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series send me a message or leave a comment. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! 🥰]]

🎶 Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later

I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters 🎶

"I can't believe you took him back after he kissed some other chick."

You and Pansy sat in the library, surrounded by textbooks and takeout coffee cups. Your eyes flick up from your book to glare at Pansy. "*She* kissed *him*." You asserted.

"Sure," she muttered under her breath, sipping her coffee.

"He said it was a mistake."

"I'm not arguing with him there." She says flatly, rolling her eyes.

You felt your irritation build. "He's not like that anymore, Pansy." You snapped at your friend.

Her eyes were piercing and fierce, but hidden in her stare was a softness that told you she was coming from a place of care and concern. "But he was. I just don't want you to forget that."

•••

The incident at the party and the conversation with Pansy was three weeks ago. Since then things with Mattheo settled back into a comfortable normalcy.

After class one day, you exited the psychology building with Luna and Pansy and your eyes fall on a familar pair of brown eyes sitting on a bench in the shade.

"We'll see you guys at dinner!" You bid your goodbyes to them before skipping over to Mattheo.

"Well hello there, handsome." You grin, leaning down to peck his lips.

He holds up one of two takeout coffe cups in his hands. "One iced vanilla latte for my favorite girl." He smirks at you, eyes gazing at you with soft fondness.

He stands and kisses you again, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. With your coffee in one hand and Mattheo's hand in the other, the two of you begin your walk across campus.

"How was your day?" You ask, swinging your hands between the two of you.

"Dreadfully boring." He complained. He gave your hand a soft squeeze, "Better now that I can see you."

"You're such a suck up." You snort.

"Only because I'm crazy for you." He bats his eyelashes at you flirtatiously. You roll your eyes playfully at him. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he whispers into your hair.

"I love you too."

•••

Later that night, your group of friends sat in the common room, lounging on a variety of furniture so that they could wind down from their day. You sat with your legs thrown over Mattheo's lap, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You let out an involuntary yawn, feeling exhausted after a long day of classes. Mattheo's arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you securely against him and tracing gentle patterns on your arm. The gesture was soothing and relaxing. The topic of conversation shifted to plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Babe, you comin' to the party this weekend? I think it's Ravenclaw house." Mattheo cranes his head to look at you.

You shake your head. "Nope. It's girls night."

"Fuck yeah girls night!" Pansy pumps her fist from where she sits across from you, illiciting a soft snort from you.

"Aww," Mattheo pretends to pout, "it won't be as fun without you there." He gives you a soft squeeze.

"I think you'll survive." You tease, reaching up to pat his cheek.

"You look tired." He says with a teasing tone and slight smirk.

"What makes you-" you interupt yourself with an involuntary yawn, "say that?"

"Wanna head up for the night?"

You nod sleepily, sliding you legs off of Mattheo's lap. The two of you bid goodbye to your friends and head to your room.

Mattheo flops on your bed with an exaggerated groan. You shake your head, smiling softly at him, digging through your drawers for some more comfortable clothes. You disappear to the bathroom for a couple minutes and emerge wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a band t-shirt you had stolen from Mattheo.

"God, you're gorgeous." Mattheo says from his spot on the bed, propped up on his elbows. His dark brown eyes seem to sparkle as they take in your form standing in front of him.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks and your fingers play with the hem of your shirt. "Oh, thank you." You avert your eyes from him, blushing furiously.

Mattheo sits up further, "Oh c'mon don't go shy on me now." He beckons you over to him. When you're close enough he wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. He rests his chin on your stomach, looking at you with a loving gaze. Your hands naturally find themselves tangling into his curly hair.

With a quick motion, he pulls you onto the bed on top of him. You let out a startled yelp as you land on top of Mattheo. He grabs your face, pressing soft kisses all over it. You burst into a fit of giggles. He just grins at you while you struggle to stop laughing.

He lets go of you only for a moment to climb under the bed covers, beckoning for you to join him. He pulls you close to him, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours. You close your eyes sleepily, feeling the beat of Mattheo's heart through his chest. He tilts his head to press a kiss to your forehead. "You're so wonderful. I love you so much." He whispers against your hairline.

You eyes stay closed but you smile, snuggling deeper into his hold. "I love you too, Mattheo." In the warmth of his embrace, you find yourself easily drifting off to sleep.

Your dreams were filled with Mattheo. His eyes, his smile, his voice, his laugh, his kiss, his touch. And as you lie there next to him, wrapped in his arms, your heart feels warm and happy.

•••

On Saturday, armed with alcoholic beverages and a variety if snacks, you make your way to Pansy's dorm room.

"Let's get this party started." You sing as you burst into the room. Daphne is lounging on the bed and Luna and Pansy are sat on the floor. An episode of tashy reality television is playing on the TV. Not long after you arrive, Hermione and Ginny also make their way to the girls night. The six of you get wine drunk and do face masks and eat a little too much junk food.

"Fuck, marry, kill: Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall." Hermione giggles as she poses the question to the group.

"Oh definetly marry McGonagall. That woman would treat me right." Ginny declares. "Then I would fuck Dumbledore and kill Snape."

"Oh c'mon Snape is not that bad." Pansy whines.

"You're just saying that because he's your teacher crush." You tease. Pansy sticks her tongue out at you. "I would marry Snape, fuck McGonagall, and kill Dumbledore," she lists off.

"I'd say marry McGonagall, fuck Snape, and kill Dumbledore." Daphne adds her list to the mix.

"What about fuck, marry, kill: Thestrals, Hippogriffs, and Puffskiens." Luna asks, her voice airy and light indicating her tipsy state.

"I mean have you seen a Puffskien's tongue?" You ask, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, eliciting a chorus of laughter.

As the conversation continues, you glance down when your phone lights up with a notification.

From Mattheo:

💬: 'Bout to head out. Have fun with the girls. I love you 💘'

You shoot off a quick response back:

💬: 'Have fun babe! Be safe~ I love you 🥰😘'

•••

The party at the Ravenclaw clubhouse was in full swing. Mattheo hadn't meant to get as drunk as he currently was. The night had started with him entering the party with the other Slytherin boys. He played beer pong with Blaise and they challenged a group of Gryffindors to a game of flip cup. He was enjoying a pleasant buzz and having a good time.

At some point, however, the drinks kept coming. It seemed as if Mattheo's cup was never empty. He lost track of his friends. At one point someone offered him a joint. Now he was collapsed on a couch, his head swimming in his current intoxocated state.

"Hey there," the girl said seductively as she stepped between his legs, "Where have you been?" She leans forward, over where he lounges on the sofa. Mattheo couldn't look anywhere but her breasts if he tried. She had placed herself right in his line of vision and her tight dress left little to the imagination.

"Been busy," he mumbled. Moving his lips to speak took a tremendous amount of effort in his current state.

She reached down, trailing her fingers over his thighs. Her touch made his skin tingle. Without thinking he reached out, placing his hands on the girl's hips. She seemed pleased by this. Reaching out she took a strand of his hair and twisted it in her fingers.

"Want some company tonight?" She purred in his ear. Mattheo's skin felt like it was on fire. 'She smells good.' He thought as she leaned close to whisper in his ear. And, not considering the potential consequences of his actions in his cross-faded state, he pulls her against him and lets her kiss him.

•••

You blinked awake, reaching over to check your phone. Luna was already awake and sat cross legged reading a book. Everyone else was still sleeping. You rubbed your eyes and when your brain registered what was on your screen your blood ran cold. You sat up so quickly that it startled Luna. You were already reaching over to shake Pansy awake, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Leave me alone." She grumbles sleepily. She rolls over, squinting her eyes at you. When she registers the look on your face, however, she sits up just as quickly as you had. "What's wrong." She demands.

You're at a loss for words and your hands shake as you hand the phone to her. You wrap your arms around your knees, hugging them to your chest.

"That fucking bastard." She exclaims furiously. She quickly snaps her mouth shut, realizing that everyone was still asleep, and handed the phone to Luna.

"Oh [Y/N]" she says sadly. She reaches out to rest her hand gently on your arm.

The message on your phone is from George Weasley. It reads:

💬: "I'm real sorry but thought you ought to know."

Attached is a photo of Mattheo with the same girl you had caught him kissing a month ago. The photo was dark and blurry but there was no question. Mattheo lounged on a couch. The girl sat in his lap. They were kissing. One of his hands was resting on her ass.

A month ago you had been seething rage, but now you just felt hollow. The tears slipped quietly down your cheeks and your eyes glazed over.

"God, I feel so stupid." You whisper.

•••

Mattheo groaned, his head pounding in his skull. He rolled over, unconsciously wrapping his arms around the figure sleeping next to him. He inhaled deeply, expecting to smell your shampoo. Through his haze he makes out the alcohol on his own breath but something is... different. His eyes open lazily. The person in his bed, he realizes, is not you.

The girl lying next to him was naked-- that wasn't a good sign. He fought against the fuzzy haze clouding his mind. And suddenly, fragmented memories of the night before came flodding back. His eyes widened.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." He chanted over and over to himself as he shook the girl awake.

"You have to leave. Now." He demanded, scrambling out of the bed. Searching the floor he found discarded clothes that he threw back at her.

"What the...?"

Mattheo looks at her, eyes wild, and points to the door. "I said leave." His tone was hostile.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She snapped back at him, pulling her shirt over her head.

"I have a girlfriend. You can't be here. This was a mistake." Mattheo ran his hand through his messy hair, trying to gain a semblance of composure.

Part 3 coming soon...

The girl grabbed her shoes. "Just saying, I don't think your gonna have a girlfriend for much longer." She exits the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Taglist 💜: @nat1221 @hoeforvinniehackerrr @rorysbrainrot @leviosatothestars

[magics-neptunes-things]

One Love (6)

Hi guys :)

This is the new one for my Luna's serie. I hope you will enjoy it, please let me know what you thought about it :)

TW : Injury, blood, surgery.

It was a summer break. Everything is supposed to be fine; Lucy and Ona were supposed to be enjoying her holidays, but there is something bothering Lucy for days now. And it has nothing to do with the surgery she had some days ago for her knee and being able to play at least one more year. She was looking to be able to play at the next World Cup to be honest. Only Ona knew it because she didn’t say anything to someone else.

And Ona was taking so good care of her. She was even more gentle and caring than ever, even if her usual nature makes her be. Lucy has seriously started to ask herself if her girlfriend have the ability to read her mind. Because, sometimes, she just thinks about something and several seconds after, Ona is asking if she wants that precise thing. The first time she thought it was the hazard, but living with it constantly since days now, it’s a little bit scary.

Because of the surgery, she has an impressive amount of kiss, hugs and massages, which she really doesn’t mind. She doesn’t have the right to go swimming for now, but just sitting by the pool with her feet in it while looking at her girlfriend in the water is enough for her happiness.

That’s exactly what she was doing at this moment. Because of the surgery, they didn’t go to Menorca or another place, Lucy needs to rest and it was obvious that Ona wouldn’t let her do something stupid. When she comes to Lucy, Ona doesn’t take support on Lucy’s knees like she usually did. She put her arms on the edge of the swimming pool and let her cheek rest on one of her arms to look at her girlfriend.

“Are you alright?” Ona asks gently.

“I’m fine” Lucy responds, even if her mind was spiraling some seconds ago. “I’m a little hot maybe.”

“You’re always hot” Ona smirks.

Lucy snorts and look at the Spaniard getting out the pool. Coco and Narla are both laying somewhere in the garden in the shadow of a palm tree. It’s hot today, Lucy’s right.

“Where are you going?” Lucy asks while looking at Ona.

“Taking you something to drink. You have to stay hydrate, mi Vida.”

“Don’t go inside with your feet wet, you’re going to make marks on the floor.”

Ona mimics her while getting up, making Lucy laughs slightly. The English woman hit Ona’s thigh with her hand in a playful way in return. Ona could have let things like this, but just when Lucy turns back, the youngest leans over her to wring her long hair, dripping fresh water into Lucy’s back.

Lucy yelps, making jump the two dogs who should definitively be used to these kinds of fights.

“You’re so dead, Batlle.”

Ona giggles, running into the house. She loses time opening the door of the safety gate surrounding the pool, allowing Lucy time to get up. The dark-haired woman chases Ona inside and she’s sure that she almost heard Narla sighs before she lays down again.

“Your feet!” Lucy shout to Ona when the Spaniard reach the inside of the house and she sees footprints on the floor.

Of course, Ona slips. But, by a miracle-like reflex, Lucy managed to catch her before she bumped her head on the ground. The team would have been mad to learn that their player got a concussion while fooling around her house.

“Are you going to torture me with kisses?” Ona asks with a smirk, standing up again.

“No. More like I will torture you not kissing you.”

“What? Lucy you can’t do that!”

********

Several hours later, both of them are laying on one lounge chair. To apologize, Ona made Sangria and with some crisps it’s even better. Minding Lucy’s injured knee, Ona is still wrapped around Lucy. Who definitively kissed her several times despite her treats.

“We should make it one for when our parents met what do you think?”

Lucy immediately tenses up when Ona addresses the subject that has worried her terribly since several days. At first, she thought that’s it was great idea, her parents meeting Ona’s parents, her brothers getting along together with her nephew and her niece in the middle of all that. But now she’s scared as hell. What if something goes wrong? They don’t even speak the same language.

“No?”

Ona’s voice takes Lucy back in reality and she looks at her girlfriend with a fake smile.

“Yeah”

“What’s going on?”

Ona frowns slightly. Of course she realizes that something was on her girlfriend’s mind. She just doesn’t know what.

“Nothing, I’m just… What if our family don’t get along?”

Ona seems so surprised that Lucy almost regret having talked about her fears. At least they would have one to be optimistic about this diner.

“Why won’t they get along?” Ona asks.

“At first because they don’t talk the same language? I know that your brother can talk English and that you can translate if something’s needed to, but how the hell are they suppose to talk together?”

Lucy is agitated, Ona can tell. That means that her fears are real and Ona is talking with her most soothing voice when she answers.

“Like you said, our brothers get along well so it’s a pretty good start. I’m sure that your nephew and your niece will be a great entertainment if things are a little tense at first. But I don’t think it will be that way.”

Lucy hums, letting Ona’s stroke on her arm calm her a little bit.

“Plus, their sons get along well, but their daughters get along pretty well too”

Ona said smirking, kissing lovingly Lucy’s neck. It was another attempt to help Lucy to relax, but she feels the English woman’s body tense again.

“Oh my god. Are they like no sex before marriage or something?!”

Ona bursts of laughing this time, pushing a little on her arms to sit down and have a better look at Lucy. Hearing Ona’s high laugh makes Lucy smile and Ona is almost crying laughing when she talks again.

“Do you think they would have let me play football and will still talking to me if they were conservative or something? Have you seen me?” Ona giggles. “You are the first of my girlfriend they have met, but they knew I had others before you.”

Lucy grumbles this time, not really liking to hear about Ona’s past relationship, which she knows is totally hypocritical of her because Ona sees Keira almost every day. Without another word, she takes Ona against her again with authority.

Ona is still smiling about her girlfriend’s concern but put her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder again. She strokes softy Lucy’s bad knee and think a little before saying something else.

“Everything’s gonna be alright mi Vida. As long as your father don’t say that he supports Real Madrid, it’s going to be ok.”

“He better not” Lucy snorts.

********

Ona was right. Their family get along pretty well, their differences of language being erased by Lucy’s dad’s Portuguese and Ona’s mother’s basic English. She almost learn it only earing Lucy and Ona talking together but it was enough to have a great conversation with the Bronze.

“You are lucky to have two grandchildren already” Ona’s mom says at one time during the diner.

Alfred and Alzira were playing with Narla and Coco in the garden after the dessert. Ona and her brother Joan, sitting next to each other, exchange a glance. Lucy almost chock on her sangria, making Jorge smirks at her sister in front of him. Ona spat her girlfriend on her back. They already talked about having kids together, but that’s true that they never talk about it to their relatives.

“Yes, I am” answers Diane Bronze, smiling when the Batlle’s stay silence. “Maybe I’ll have more one day.”

“Oh, so you want a third?” Joan asks Jorge, ready to push her sister under the bus to save his ass.

“Nah, not at all” he laughs. “I love my children, but two is enough. Now that I can sleep at night again, no one will never take that away from me again.

“Two is good” Lucy mumbles, glancing at Ona from the corner of her eyes.

“Joan is older and with his girlfriend for longer” Ona points, not having missed her brother move. “It would make sense if he has kids first.”

Ona smirks when Joan try to crush her foot under the table and miss because she moves on her chair. The shift makes her closer to Lucy, who kind of mistake her girlfriend’s movement, thinking that Ona is looking for some physical touch. The Catalan woman really doesn’t mind when Lucy puts her hand on her lower back though.

They all are saved from this conversation by Narla barking when Coco tries to steel one of her rocks.

Later that night, when Ona’s family is back to Villassar de Mar and Lucy’s is in their room, Ona can’t stop to think about the conversation they had about children. She wants to have children with Lucy, but they both are professionals women footballers, being pregnant mean to have to stop for like nine months at best. Lucy said she wanted to carry a child first after she stops playing, but she wants to be able to play the next World Cup, in 2027. Won’t it be too far from now?

Lucy, who was checking that the doors were closed, fine her girlfriend standing up in front of the bay windows of their bedroom, lost in her thoughts. So lost that she doesn’t hear her coming. Ona jumps when Lucy takes her against her, her front glued against Ona’s back.

“What’s torturing your mind, Beautiful?” Lucy whispers.

“Nothing” Ona answers before turning in Lucy’s arms to cuddle against her. “Today was great.”

“It was” Lucy smiles softly.

Her concerns were useless and she’s very relieved to see that everyone had a great day. But she feels like her girlfriend is hiding something from her and she doesn’t really like it.

“I can hear your brain, Bonita.”

“Yeah? What are you hearing?” Ona smirks.

“That you are hiding heavy thoughts from me.”

“That’s an easy answer.”

Ona is smiling when she looks up at Lucy, who put a strand of Ona’s hair behind her ear. She doesn’t have to ask Ona to talk to her one more time, the Spaniard opening easily to her.

“I was thinking about the conversation from today, about children.”

“What about it?”

“You said that two children are good, were you saying that to stick with your brother or was it more for us?”

“Oh, for both of it” Lucy shrugs. “I think that two is a perfect number honestly. When you are three, I feel like there is always one who is away from the two others, look at my sister. I’m pretty sure that almost no one know that I have a sister.”

Ona nods, following Lucy in their bed when she takes her by the hand. She only has a brother herself and she’s not sure that she would have get along so well with him if she had another. Or a sister.

“Would you rather have boys or girls?” Ona asks with curiosity.

“I don’t really care. All I want is healthy children with the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“And here was I, thinking that you wanted to have children with me” Ona sighs dramatically.

Lucy pinches her ribs, making her squeak and trying to escape Lucy’s arms. But Lucy doesn’t let her, stopping her tickling only when she scared to wake the children up. When she stops, she was on top of Ona, her faces separated by only several centimeters.

“I love you, even if you are an idiot sometimes” Lucy whispers before kissing her.

“I love you too” Ona smiles softly. “But you can stop your kisses now, because there’s now way we are doing anything with your family around.”

“Oh, come on.”

********

Some days after that, the break is over, and the season is starting again. Lucy’s knee seems to be good enough for her to play without having a care to give for now, or at least more things to think about it. It’s a good news for both of them, Lucy being happy to be able to play like this and Ona seeing her girl being happy. With Mapi back from injury, they are almost always starting in the defense every match, unless some of them is being rested.

Their families went to the first game together, before the Bronze had to go back to England. It was noticed by the fans of course, but none of them is bothered by that by now. Ona and Lucy still chose to stay private but not secret, even if the video of them kissing in the crow of a football stadium went viral.

They are playing against Levante today and they went to Valence to play the game. After the training, when they are sitting on their cubby, Ona comes to Lucy before going in the tunnel.

“How’s your knee mi Vida?” Ona asks softly.

“I’m fine Princesa. Stop worrying, you’ll be older than me soon.”

Ona rolls her eyes but help her getting up anyway. They slowly follow the other in the tunnel, talking with Salma and Jana.

The game went great, Ona knows some of the players from the other team, but like always she putted her relationships on the back of her head for the game. It’s not the same after the game though, and the Catalan woman always enjoy catching up a little bit with her friends like this.

It’s ironically one of them who take Ona down, soon after the beginning of the second part. It was one fair challenge, until her opponent casually shoves her crampons into her ankle while walking on her foot.

Ona’s cry of pain is audible in all the stadium. Alexia is at her level when Ona grabs her foot in pain and the blonde saw Lucy coming straight for them. It was what Alexia thought, until Lucy passes right next to them and go right for the girl who hurt Ona.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” she shouts, pushing her hard.

Ona gets distracted from her bleeding ankle by the scene.

“Stop her, please” Ona whispers to Mariona, crouched beside her.

The Majorcan sights softly before getting up to stop the scene before Lucy get carted with red. It would already be a miracle if she doesn’t have a yellow.

“Lucy come on, breath” Mariona says a little harsher than Aitana who were actually trying to stop Lucy.

The English woman glares at Mariona, but she doesn’t seem impressed by it.

“She could have broken her ankle!”

“I know but she doesn’t. Your girlfriend is currently getting treated, so maybe you want to check on her before the game starts again no?”

Lucy sighs, rolls her eyes to the referee when she shows her a yellow card but jog to find her girlfriend. Ona’s sock is red with blood and Lucy grimaces when she saw that the team needed to cut it with a scissor to take it off.

Alexia sends her a disapproval look when she crouched next to Ona. The Spaniard is laying on her back, one arm on her face while one of them team medic is currently stitching her wounds.

“Hey” Lucy says softy, removing Ona’s arm from her face. “You’re ok?”

“Yeah” Ona answers, without loosening her jaw. “Did you get a yellow or a red?”

“Yellow” Lucy answers absent-mindedly, looking at her girlfriend’s injury. “Will you be able to play after that?”

“She won’t” one nurse answers for her.

Ona pouts and Lucy squeeze her hand. Thanks god, even if she has several stitches, it doesn’t seem to be a bad injury. Lucy looks up when she hears her name being called. The game is about to start again. And, even if she doesn’t want to, Lucy has to be back.

Not being subbed until the end of the game, Lucy had to watch Ona getting out of her view to received other care and maybe painkiller. She doesn’t reappear until the 92nd minute, some seconds before the referee whistles the end of the game.

When Ona came back on the pitch with crutches, Lucy feels her heart tightens a little bit. She made her way to Ona, passing a protective arm around her shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I got six stitches though.”

“If Mariona didn’t stop me, she will have got six stitches too” Lucy grumbles.

“Even if it was hot, I’m glad she stops you. I was the one sending her, to be honest.”

Lucy pouts but doesn’t have time to answer anything, other people coming to check on Ona. Staying next to her like a bodyguard, Lucy glares so hard to the girl who hurts Ona that she didn’t come to excuse herself one more time. At some point, she passes her arm around Ona waist to help her staying up. And when it was time to go to the changing room, Lucy doesn’t hesitate one second to take her girlfriend in her arms to carry her inside, in a bride style.

Ona took good care of her during the summer, it’s her turn now.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (see full series here)

1993

The school year draws to a close, with the school still chattering away about Sirius. You spend it relatively simply, teaching the last of your classes and then finally handing out end-of-year exam results. You're glad to see Hermione gets an almost perfect score — and Ron and Harry do...well, they do okay. You make a mental note to start buckling down on their incessant chatting during class.

You also spend it full of worries. Your every waking moment seems to be consumed with thoughts about Sirius. He's out there, all alone, on the run — you can't imagine how he's feeling right now. It ties knots in your stomach. You just want to grab and hold him, caress his soft, smooth skin, run your hands through his silky curls —

You miss him.

You sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, flicking through the latest edition of The Quibbler. It's quite a unique little publication, very quirky. Luna Lovegood, one of your second years — her dad is the editor, so you decided to pick up the magazine after she recommended it to you once.

You're currently skim-reading a very in-depth article about some sort of creature called an 'epippinpor', when the door to your compartment slides open and Harry pokes his head inside.

"Harry!" you greet. "Need something?"

He holds out a folded piece of parchment, smiling. "Padfoot."

You take the parchment from him as he leaves, closing the door again. You beam excitedly, throwing down The Quibbler and pulling the parchment into your lap. Dubh gets up and starts to sniff the parchment curiously and you giggle, full of giddiness like you're a young teenager again.

My darling love,

I hope you get this before you've left Hogwarts, otherwise it may be quite some time before this letter reaches you. I decided to put your letter in with Harry's, because I'm sure your post is being monitored.

Buckbeak and I are in hiding, so you don't need to worry. I have so many questions to ask you, so many things to tell...I guess they'll just have to wait. I miss you, my love, just like you miss the stars during the daytime.

I hope I haven't lost my romantic flair.

Also, you're a professor now? Very professional, Professor Black. I suppose it does have a pretty sweet ring to it. And Astronomy, too? I'm still your favourite star, right?

You snort, rolling your eyes. Typical. You can just imagine his face when he wrote that: signature smirk, maybe a wink.

Can I get a kiss for that when we reunite again?

Typical!

I wish I could be with you this summer. At our home. Also...do you have a cat? I thought I saw you with a cat. Come on, love, we are obviously a dog home!

I miss you so much. I miss your voice, your warmth, your beautiful face, your kisses. Especially the last one. It's not easy to go twelve years without a single kiss...even if the Dementors offered me several. I love you with all of my heart. If you need me for anything, Harry's owl will find me. All my love, Sirius. P.S. I love you. I can't wait to see you again.

You smile at the letter, eyes tracing the edges of his scratchy handwriting. Your stomach is full of fluttering butterflies and it really does feel like you're a schoolgirl again. You re-read the letter several times, smiling especially wide when he says he loves you or compliments you.

No, Sirius. You didn't lose your romantic flair. Not one bit.

You reach out to pet Dubh, still holding the letter in your hand.

Maybe next year will be a little different.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"Here you go," you say, handing Remus his cup of tea. He accepts it, careful not to spill a drop, and gives you a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"So, any news?" You ask, pulling your legs up onto the couch and folding them in beside you as you look at the man in front of you. You're sitting in your living room, a wonderfully cosy little room, warmed by soft rays of August sunshine. There's green plants dotted around, and the walls have photos and beautiful paintings decorating it. There's even a few of Remus' original paintings up there!

One big hobby of Remus' is painting, though he is very secretive about it. He paints beautiful landscapes and still-lifes...it calms him.

One particular painting catches your eye. You had once asked him to paint you a nice, simple picture of pottery. A jug, a bowl, a plate...just general pottery works. It's quite nice.

Remus shrugs. "Nothing really since last we spoke. How are your parents?"

You stayed with your parents last week. Dubh had been put into Remus' care, as she always is, and she always comes back a little fatter than before because Remus is a big softie.

"They're grand, yeah," you reply with a shrug. "I told them everything that happened and honestly they were pretty nonchalant about it all, you know how they are...Mam thought I was very stressed and made me one of her special herbal teas and honestly, it was amazing. Felt young again."

"You are young," Remus says with a sigh.

"Sure don't feel it," you say bitterly. "Could do with a dose of that special tea every morning."

"So this tea isn't special?" Remus asks, gesturing to the cup in his hand.

"Not at all," you reply with a short chuckle. "I asked her what she puts in it, and she said it was an 'age-old secret only passed down when the last generation has ceased and the next lives on'. She's lying, of course, she's only saying that to be mysterious. I'm beginning to think that it's just the placebo effect."

Remus nods thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to trust your mother's words and say it is an age-old secret."

"Suck up."

He raises his mug and gives you a mocking smile. You sigh.

"And," you continue, "Dad took me to the muggle cinema, and we seen this film called 'Mrs Doubtfire'. Moony, when I tell you I sobbed — Merlin, muggles sure know how to make an emotional impact. I'm beginning to think that truly, wizards aren't better than muggles because they get to have cool films and we don't. It's unfair, really, if you think about it."

"'Mrs Doubtfire'? What was it about?" Remus asks.

"A woman called Mrs Doubtfire, obviously," you say and he rolls his eyes. "But turns out it's not actually a woman, it's this guy whose wife divorced him and can barely see his kids, so he pretends to be their babysitter and puts on a wig and a mask and fake tits and everything — "

"And that made you cry?"

"It was emotional! Then he gets caught and can only see the kids with someone supervising the visits! Isn't that sad, Moony? It's much sadder in the movie."

He raises his eyebrows, humming in weak agreement. "Right."

You scoff, sighing. "Anyway...Quidditch World Cup is coming up! And guess who's going?"

"You? No way, how did you get tickets?" Remus asks in shock.

You grin. "Minerva McGonagall, the gem that she is! Sent me a letter yesterday morning. Said she happened upon two tickets and asked me to go with her."

"I didn't know the two of you were such good friends."

You shrug. "Sometimes it can be a bit odd because she used to be my teacher, y'know — but she's such fun to be around. I mean, I've told you before that we have tea together sometimes."

He nods thoughtfully. "Mhm, yes, I remember."

"Anyway, I'm really looking forward to it! I wish I could bring you with me," you say with a small apologetic smile.

Remus waves you off. "It's a full moon. I daresay I might steal the spotlight off the teams if I attend."

You laugh. "That may be so."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

sorry for the extra-short chapter...just wanted to draw this year to a close. Goblet of fire next!!!

as always, a big thank you to my taglist loves for all their amazing kindness and support:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem

[kika-writes]

diary - o.p

Warnings: fluff, embarrassment

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

Summary: Based off of the song that goes ‘I read those pages, you really love me baby’ (idk the name someone pls comment it x) haha this is cringe LMAO I’m drunk

“Seriously? Oscar stayed round again?” your friend, Luna, asked with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, he’s my best friend,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Just friends, yeah,” she said sarcastically as you scoffed. “You don’t have to make it weird, Luna, I’ve known him since I was little,” you laughed as your best friend mumbled something incoherent. You let it slide, opting to clear up the messy bedroom. “Your room’s a tip,” Luna said, echoing your thoughts as you hummed, picking up the clothes. “Which is, funnily enough, why I’m cleaning it,” you said sarcastically as she snorted. “You’re picking up the sarcasm from Oscar again,” Luna laughed as you scoffed. Just as you shuffled one of your shirts, you noticed a black leather book - definitely not one of yours. You frowned, opening it up, and immediate recognised the handwriting - Oscar’s. He kept a diary? You definitely did not expect that from your best friend. You flicked the pages, onto the date of yesterday and began to read. 

Right. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t just sit there and pretend like there’s nothing between us. It can’t be, surely she feels something too. I mean, she’s so pretty as well. Her eyes and her hair, fuck 

What? Oscar liked another girl? You didn’t have an issue with it, you just thought… maybe after all these years of being with him, maybe he’d feel something for you? But of course, it was a long shot, wasn’t it? Oscar, he was a Formula 1 driver, someone famous, and you, well, you were just you. “Y/N, what are you doing?” Luna called through the phone, making you look up. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I found…Oscar’s diary,” you said, sitting at the table. “Read it!” she cried, clapping her hands.

“I can’t with this anymore, she’s pretty! Like, her voice is freaking addicting dude. I’ve never liked anyone as much as I’ve liked her, I’ve never even had a proper crush. She’s gorgeous though, but like, surely she has so many people wanting her, right? Fuck. Y/N, dude,”. 

Y/N. You. He liked you?! There was no way. Luna’s jaw dropped as she listened. “I knew it!” she squealed, just as the doorbell went off. Four rings. Oscar. His signature way of saying ‘I’m here’. “Shit, mute yourself,” you hissed, flipping your phone down but leaving the call on. “Oscar,” you said. You were gonna tease the SHIT out of him for this. “You left this,” you said, dangling the book between your thumb and forefinger. His eyes widened as he gulped, rechtigen for it hastily. “So,” you said, snatching it back to your chest, “I read those pages,”. His face fell. His secrets? Not do server anymore. “You really love me baby?” you cooed, pulling him in by the collar as he flushed, shutting the door hurriedly. “I asked a question, Os-cuh,” you whispered teasingly as he looked up, this was unlike you. 

“Like you too,” you mumbled, lips against his jaw as he scoffed. 

[riseofamoonycake]

Luna, listen to me...

He...

WITHOUT mask! Girl, can you think of that?!? Like, he sure is hot without it!

yay, random thoughts :)

SO HOT, SO HOOOOOOOT I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT

I am sorry for everyone, Luna is horny on main about Bishamonten.

AGAIN.

Shapes of You

⚖️Pairing: Bishamonten x Gn!reader

⚖️Warnings: suggestive

⚖️

«Can I stroke your face?»

The question comes out spontaneously, sweet and hesitant like the first spring flower that still fears the snow, and your eyes light up as you ask it. «Please… just a caress. I promise....»

Bishamonten, the powerful and inflexible Bishamonten, the one you have been calling with the names of love for some time, stares at you with severity as always: from his height, the arms crossed on the chest and with heavy breathing, which seems to swell his veins even more, his eyes are glued to your figure while you sit on the bed with your legs crossed, already tenderly open for what will follow this evening warm with hopes and scented with May desires.

You don't hesitate and lean forward with your torso towards him, the gaze imploring and the lips moistened by your tongue, which dances and moves on them ceaselessly; who knows what view the god must have of you at this moment… «I promise I won't dare more than one caress… but grant me at least this wish…»

Bishamonten takes a deep sigh and stares at you, his deep eyes filled with some glimmer of uncertainty that breaks the usual tenacity, but he doesn't give an inch. «You're weird tonight.»

«The thing is… I've never seen you without a mask before. And… well… you are so handsome without it… your flesh is exposed, your skin is ready for my kisses, why linger any longer?» You know that flattery about his physique and boasting his own beauty is not a matter that interests the great god, yet you cannot help but say what comes into your head, especially if it is the result of the veneration you feel for your beloved; and in your words full of warmth, he reads all the honesty and passion that warms your heart. And this is, yes, terribly exciting even for the monolithic God of Fortune.

«Y/N, it's me. There is nothing about me that is different…»

You hesitate for a moment, then breathe hard; and he sits next to you, stiff and contained but close, closer and closer, until his lips are pressed against your hair, your forehead and your ear. The beginning of intimacy. «… You don't need to make that face.»

You stare into his eyes, like the last of the supplicants. «Just a caress. I beg you. I know you don't like me touching you, but this once… just this once, I beg you, it's a prayer…"

The god listens to you heartily, then lowers his eyelids. And, strangely but not all that rare when it comes to you, he gives up at least a little. «Just a caress», he orders, before darkening slightly and clasping his arms tighter, in an attempt to resist the gentleness of your touch.

As if you didn't know him.

You smile, then stretch out your hands and place them on his face, hugging his entire cheek with your palm. Immediately, you feel Bishamonten panting under your fingers, and with delicate movements you move up and down the entire face, following the shapes of the forehead and nose, tracing the eyes and lips, tapping on the temples, lightly scratching the chin. Now that he is not covered by anything, you take the opportunity to play with his skin, you kiss it continuously and rub your cheeks against it, and you dare to get close to his ears with your nails, this before his strong hands trap yours and his gaze freezes you where you are. «That is enough.»

«But…»

«That. Is. Enough.»

You snort, so you can't help but smirk. «You are giving in, Great Bishamonten. I can see you're giving in… soon, you won't be able to stop me anymore.»

In response, the god grabs your arms, holds you in his and flips you onto the bed, trapping you beneath him with all his weight, pressing you into the mattress. His hair falls to tickle your chest and his teeth bite your cheek, then he barely looks up to stare at you, while his powerful body rubs against your legs. «You are calling upon yourself a long and terrible punishment. Keep going like this and it will become inevitable.»

«No punishment is terrible when it comes from you, my King», you whisper against his lips with an adoring smile, before kissing them softly, slowly, «and it was worth it, now that I can see you without masks anymore. Literally…»

Bishamonten grits his teeth, then looks away and blushes for a moment; and at this vision, you can't help but smile more, while the hands trapped under his arms take the opportunity to caress his hips, knowing very well what it follows...

«You are acting like a brat.»

«And you are sooo good at taming the brats... so why not taming this one, tonight?»

[inexplicablymine]

Some Sentences Sunday

So here are uhhh more than 7 sentences of the next Little Drummerboy update because I have no self control.

“You mean the author?” Alex looks down at the byline and sees a familiar last name grace the page. Allison Tidwell. She’s a mouthpiece for JRR and usually speaks favorably about Kensington as well. She’d prey on young stars like a vulture, haggard and gaunt, looking for its next meal. She would misquote, misassign, and misdirect those she interviewed making artists look worse, planting feuds and all around being a shitty person.  “Ahh Shitwell, yeah I’m familiar with her writing, we know when it's coming because it stinks up the room before it arrives.” Henry snorts next to him and holds his hand out for a fistbump. It is highly unlike him to do so, but Alex had told him to start assimilating into the culture of the Luna Records or he was going to burn all of Henry’s button down shirts in an effigy to the fashion gods. Pez was around at the time and lifted his hands up in an amen gesture. Henry had been upset that his “two best friends were ganging up on him like this.” Alex took that statement and tucked it between his ribcage for safekeeping. 

I am also counting this as my last line tag as well!!

Thank you for the tags: @kiwiana-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @onthewaytosomewhere @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @wordsofhoneydew @littlemisskittentoes @suseagull04 @rockyroadkylers @happiness-of-the-pursuit @alasse9 @three-drink-amy @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @iboatedhere @welcometololaland

AND ALSO TAGGING: (and open tag tag me BACK I WANT TO SEE YOUR WORDS) @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @affectionatelyrs @cultofsappho @whimsymanaged @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @cha-melodius @tintagel-or-cockleshells @dumbpeachjuice @cricketnationrise @myheartalivewrites @matherines @onward--upward @orchidscript @leojfitz @lizzie-bennetdarcy @gayrootvegetable @gay-flyboys @everwitch-magiks @indomitable-love @indestructibleheart

[sidekick-hero]

Suitcase of Memories

Authors: @legitcookie and @sidekick-hero l Artist: @luna-fortunaa l Artist: @maikaartwork | Beta: @acasualcrossfade | Beta and amazing cheerleader: @yournowheregirl

ART 1 | ART 2 | FIC

In a bygone era, two men overcome all societal norms and find an instant, powerful connection that defies all odds. Their secret love blossoms in the shadows, forming an unbreakable bond. However, fate eventually intervenes, cruelly tearing them apart. Fast forward to the present day, Steve awakens from a startling dream that feels surprisingly real, like he was really there. The memory of it haunts his every waking moment, making him question if he somehow recognizes the mysterious, curly-haired stranger playing his guitar at a street-corner, although they have never met before. Steve continues to cross paths with this enigmatic figure, Eddie, until they surrender to fate and their instant attraction. As their relationship deepens, Steve's dreams become increasingly vivid, detailed, and intense, leaving him with an uncanny sense of familiarity. They also strangely reflect the growing romance and struggles of his newfound relationship. Is it all just a coincidence, or is there a deeper connection that defies the boundaries of time and fate?

Read more under the cut for another sneak preview of Chapter 1!

"How was the rush?" he asks Robin absentmindedly as he goes about cleaning the machines and the counter. There's a dreamy smile on his face, the image of a man playing his guitar and humming softly to himself in his mind's eye.

"Eh, not bad, but - why are you smiling?" Robin immediately catches it, and Steve tries to wipe it off his face for plausible deniability.

"I'm not smiling."

"I have eyes, Dingus. What's up? Did Lisa call you?" Steve looks at Robin, at a loss, before the proverbial light bulb turns on and he just stops himself from snapping his fingers. Right, Lisa.

"Nah, I texted her, but she didn't text me back," he says with a shrug, not really caring. She was boring and self-absorbed anyway, there was no chemistry between them. Not like he thought he had with —

Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his obvious disinterest, and he knows there's no point in playing dumb. He's been dying to tell Robin all weekend, and here's the perfect opportunity. "I just met someone. Sort of."

This isn't really anything new, Steve meets someone almost every week, but Robin still makes a gimme gimme gesture at him. "Details, please. Drown out the tragedy that is my love life."

Steve snorts. "It's not that big of a deal. He was playing guitar on the corner near my bus stop, and I just... met him." Saying it like that makes it seem so insignificant when it felt anything but.

"What's his name?"

"I don't know."

"So you didn't actually meet him."

"Technically. But it was weird, Robin, he seemed so familiar. Like I've met him before. I even asked him about it, but he said no. Just gave me a line, like I'd be hard to forget."

"It wasn't a line," comes a voice from the customer's side of the table. Steve whips his head around to find his mystery man standing there with a grin on his handsome face. Steve gawks at him and the man adds, "Okay, maybe it was a line."

"Oh, fuck - I mean, shit - hi." He wants to punch himself, hard. Smooth. So fucking smooth. The floor never opens and swallows you when you need it most.

The man cackles with glee and Steve turns even redder, quickly approaching scarlet.

"What can we get you?" Robin the Saint cuts in before he can put his foot in his mouth any more than he already did, nudging Steve in the side to put on his best customer service smile.

"Uh," Cute Guitar Guy begins, his eyes darting up to the menu and scanning it quickly. "Whatever's sweet enough to cause instant cavities."

"You're not on the menu, Stevie," Robin whispers in Steve's ear, laughter obvious in her tone, and Steve elbows her gently. He wouldn't mind being on the menu for this particular customer.

"A mocha with an extra pump sound good?" Robin asks, already grabbing a cup, marker in hand.

"Yeah, that sounds good," the guy replies absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving Steve's. As their gazes lock, Steve has to suppress the shiver that wants to run through his body as the current of electricity hits him again. He can feel it crackling under his skin and wonders if the man in front of him can feel it too.

He hopes he can.

Undeterred by both of their obvious distraction, Robin continues with her customer scheme. "Name?"

Cute Guitar Guy’s eyes stay on Steve as he replies with a sudden weight in his voice, "Eddie," before remembering his manners and giving Robin a kind, sincere smile.

Robin moves away from the counter to start working on the drink, sending a sly smile in Steve's direction as he continues to just stand there looking at Eddie. He's sure she's going to make fun of him later.

"I'm Steve," he tells the guy, desperate to say something, anything.

"I see," Eddie says, pointing to Steve's nametag, and Steve feels like smacking himself again. Fortunately, Eddie seems more charmed than appalled by his inability to carry on a conversation like a normal human being. "I suppose it would be stupid to use another line like 'You come here often?'" Eddie asks, smiling widely at him, and Steve's knees weaken at the sight, wanting to trace that smile with his tongue, especially the newly formed dimples.

Steve huffs a laugh. "You still could. Maybe it’d make you stop by more often if I told you I do?”

“Oh, you can count on that, Steve.”

They grin at each other and Steve thinks that he would take a hundred more fucked up days like Friday if they led to something like this. The thought reminds him to ask, "Is that your regular spot? Playing at the corner?"

Leaning closer to Steve, Eddie rests both elbows on the counter. "What if it is?"

"Then I might have to skip the bus more often," Steve says, mimicking his stance.

He hears Robin snort behind him, but chooses to ignore her in favor of looking at Eddie, who has just pulled out his wallet to pay for the drink. Steve puts his hand on the one holding the wallet and feels another crackle under his skin. "On the house."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, but his eyes dance with mischievous delight. "And do all of your first time customers get this kind of special treatment from you?"

Go big or go home, Steve thinks as he leans even closer to Eddie. "Nah," he says looking up at him from under his lashes, "Only the really cute ones."

The smile on Eddie's face softens, the mischief replaced by something more genuine, more real. He pulls a strand of his hair over his mouth to hide it, but it's too late, because Steve knows he's going to fall asleep tonight with that smile on his mind.

Eddie opens his wallet, pulls out a $5 bill and puts it in the tip jar. Steve wonders if it's the same one he put in Eddie's guitar case the other night. "Thanks, Stevie."

The nickname makes Steve smile, liking the easy way Eddie creates a feeling of familiarity between them. He's not sure if Eddie is thanking him for the free coffee or the compliment, but either way his answer would be the same. "Anytime."

They continue to lean on the counter, staring at each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist, before a customer behind Eddie clears his throat loudly, startling them both. "Are you two done? I'd like my coffee today, please."

Rolling his eyes, Eddie steps aside and waves his arm in a sweeping gesture at the disgruntled customer.

"After you," he says in an exaggerated voice and gives Steve a wink before walking over to the pickup counter to wait for his drink. Just then, more and more customers begin to pour in, the lunch rush in full swing, and Steve moves to take their orders, help Robin prepare drinks, and hand out snacks and baked goods. He tries to keep an eye on Eddie to see if he's still there, but after a particularly large order from a group, Steve is distracted long enough that when he looks back, Eddie is gone.

His face must show his disappointment because Robin puts a gentle hand on Steve's back and says, "Eddie asked me to tell you goodbye. He really had to go, but he looked just as bummed out about it as you do.”

That's at least something, but Steve still feels deflated. He didn't even get his number.

[takearisk-xo]

I’ll give you an example…. I read this Reddit post about a gf who convinced her bf females shed skin during their periods (she was wearing a face mask at the time), and got her bf’s sister/mother/female friends in on the joke. They all went along with it or months and the poor guy thought it was true until he brought it up during dinner and his Dad was like WTF?! Who told you that??? Lmao. I could see Ginny pulling something like that and the little old gullible Harry completely falling for it.

Something along those lines…

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BEAUTIFUL!!! 🥳🎂🎊

okay this is shamelessly inspired by an old onion article lmaoo

There was a rock in Ginny's shower.

Not like a pebble, or a piece of gravel or something that would be equally confusing, but maybe easier to explain. This was a solid three inch by three inch, light gray, porous, circular rock in the corner of the bath.

Harry had eyed the thing curiously over the span of several weeks. It moved every so often, which made him think it was either sentient or useful in someway. It was also always a little bit damp, sometimes even sudsy, which made him think Ginny used it during her washing routine. This had him testing the hypothesis on himself, but scrubbing the rock down his forearm didn't result in any extra cleansing, it just fucking hurt. So, he ruled that one out.

Then he wondered if it didn't have some magical purpose, like a wizard shortcut, but he asked Ron, and his best mate didn't have a clue. Which brought Harry back to square one.

For about two months, the mystery of the stone in Ginny's shower remained just that. A mystery. Until one night, after joining her in the bath post spectacular sex, he finally worked up the nerve to ask.

Grabbing the rock from the shelf, he held it up between them. "What is this thing?"

Ginny frowned at him and blinked several times in confusion.

"Is it alive? Does it do anything? What do you use it for?"

Ginny sucked her lips between her teeth to bite back a smile. "What do you think I use it for?"

"I don't know!" Harry replied dramatically. "I thought maybe it was for the soaps and things, but its too rough to use as a sponge. But it moves around, so obviously you use it. Either that or it's taken up residence in your shower and you have a pet rock you've never told me about, which fine, whatever, but it can't just be here for no reason..."

Ginny nodded along, her grin growing harder and harder to hide.

"What?" Harry asked. "Is it something obvious and I'm being a muppet?"

"No," she interjected and her face contorted into something like sympathy.

"Well, then what?" He turned it end over end in his hands to examine it. "Because I can't figure it out. Does it absorb bad smells? Does it clean when we aren't looking? Does it ward off evil spirits?"

Snorting, Ginny plucked it from his grasp and stared up at him with wide eyes. "I'll tell you, alright, but you can't laugh."

"Why would I laugh?"

"It's sort of..." she hesitated, "superstition."

Harry pinched his brows together. "Like a normal superstition or a Luna superstition?"

She winced. "Luna superstition."

Smoothing his grimace, he listened to her explanation with steadily increasing wonder...

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

3 years later

"It's just getting worse," Hermione complained from her spot on the sofa. "I don't think I can keep going on like this. It's completely demoralizing."

"It's just a slump," Ginny answered. "It's not like you've had a ton of great options to begin with."

"Yes, that is the demoralizing part."

Harry backed away from the conversation slowly, unsure of how to engage with the subject matter of one of their best friend's, frankly miserable, dating life. Hermione had always been so sure of herself, and so independent, he hadn't ever considered that she truly wanted to date someone for real. After her and Ron had broken up, she seemed put off by the whole undertaking.

Which, fair. Harry had abhorred dating. So, he could relate.

Sometime recently, though, she must have decided to put herself out there. Only it seemed she wasn't impressed or particularly taken with any of her choices.

A spark of an idea curled through the back of his mind, and he turned toward the stairs to mount the steps two at a time. Charging into his and Ginny's bathroom, he found what he was looking for in moments. He supposed they could loan it out, at least until Hermione could get one of her own.

It wasn't like he and Ginny exactly needed it anymore.

Returning to the sitting room, Harry marched past the armchair and presented his gift with assured conviction.

Hermione stopped talking abruptly and looked at the stone in Harry's hand in unmitigated confusion. Meanwhile, Ginny made a choking noise and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Take it," Harry urged, but she still looked utterly bewildered. "It's-- well, it's not exactly incontestable, but it seemed to work for us. Maybe... you could give it a go?"

Hermione's expression didn't change, but she accepted Harry's gift anyway.

"A pumice stone?" she asked, looking to Ginny for clarification. Ginny, for her part, seemed unable to speak; her shoulders shaking and her cheeks as red as a tomato.

Harry took over the responsibility of explaining. "If you keep it damp and keep it close to where you... you know-- it'll bring you luck and... you know... the other things, too."

"Sorry, I'm not quite understanding." Hermione blinked several times very quickly. "You think a pumice stone brings you sex luck?"

"Yeah," Harry swallowed down his discomfort and shifted his gaze to Ginny in a plea for help. Only she was full on convulsing now, her entire upper body shaking with...

Laughter.

His realization must have showed on his face because Ginny lost all semblance of control and dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, christ--" he swore loudly. "I can't believe this. What does it actually do?"

"It's for your feet!" Hermione cried, her own grin stretching across her face.

"Your what?" Harry replied, his horror growing with each second.

"Your feet!" Hermione said again, then she threw the rock at Ginny's middle. Ginny caught it and, if possible, laughed even harder.

"FEET?" Harry roared. "What does that do for your feet!?"

Ginny sucked in a gasping breath and cackled, "You scrub the callouses, you absolute moron!"

He threw his hands into the air in embarrassment and frustration. "Oh for fuck's sake, what else have you tricked me into?"

"No!" Ginny bellowed through tears of laughter. "Nothing, I swear!"

"I got one of those for Ron last Christmas!"

"You what!?" Ginny and Hermione shrieked at the same time.

"He and Padma had just--" Harry clenched his teeth, grinding his molars in mortification. "This is unbelievable. "

"Oh, Harry," Ginny keened. "I'm sorry, okay? But think of it this way, we didn't actually need luck at all!"

Shaking his head, he grumbled a few choice words under his breath and turned his back on the uncontrollable giggles still echoing from the couch.

[fallingforfictionalcharacterss]

Draco and the reader don't like each other. But at some point Draco starts flirting with her, just to annoy her. But in the end he ends up falling for her?

Thanks for the request. Enjoy reading!

I hate to love you

You were standing on platform 9 3/4 with Hermione, waiting for Harry and the Weasley family to arrive. You knew that they always arrived at the last minute but still, with every minute that passed, Hermione and you got more and more nervous. You still remembered how back in your second year, Harry and Ron hadn’t made it through the barrier and got in loads of trouble for this. Five minutes before the train would leave, you agreed with Hermione that you would already bring your trunks to the train and look for a compartment, while she would be waiting outside for your friends to arrive.

On your way through the train, you met Luna and Neville, who were looking for Trevor, who had somehow managed to escape his owner once more and promised them you would help them search as soon as you had found a compartment.

Finally, you found an empty one and placed your belongings in there. When you looked out the window, you saw that Hermione wasn’t standing at the Platform anymore, which probably meant that Harry and the Weasleys had finally arrived. You should probably get out on the aisle and look for them, you thought to yourself. Also, you needed to check if Neville had already found his toad.

But when you opened the door of your compartment, you nearly bumped into someone.

“Sorry I…”

You stopped in the middle of your sentence when you saw who was standing in front of you. It was Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin in your year. Gryffindors and Slytherins normally didn’t get along very well, but with Malfoy, it was something special. Because not only that you just weren’t exactly close, you detested the blond boy with every fibre of your body. He was a spoiled brat, cruel and not interested in anyone but himself. And you had let him know you thought of him like this several times, just as he told you what he was thinking about you. You were, in his eyes, a filthy blood traitor, not worthy of being a witch, a disgrace for the wizarding world. Fully aware of the fact how much you hated each other, you took every chance to compromise the other one. That had led to many heated arguments and even some nasty hexes in the past and you had no doubt that it wouldn´t change any time soon.

So when you realized it was Malfoy who was standing in front of you, all the intentions to apologize was gone right away.

“Damn it, we´re not even back at Hogwarts and you´re already in my way.”, you said, letting out an annoyed sigh.

“I could say the same (Y/l/n).”, Malfoy sneered.

“Well this is my compartment, isn’t it?”

“But it is not your aisle.”

“Neither it´s yours.”

Malfoy eyed you contemptuously, his grey eyes cold and emotionless as usual. It always made a shiver run down your spine when he looked at you as if he could stare down to the bottom of your soul but found nothing but things that disgusted him. But as much as he had perfectionated that gaze over the years, you had learned to withstand his gaze just as well.

“My father could by the entire train and Hogwarts just as well. You know, my family is prosperous. Unlike yours as I heard.”

You let out a small snort, finding his insult rather amusing.

“As soon as he had bought the train I will happily step aside when you come in my way. But as long as he didn’t, I have no reason to do so.”

“As if I would let you in here if it was mine.”, Malfoy responded.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t miss me Malfoy.”, you teased.

The boy in front of you let out a small chuckle, going right through you.

“You know what? Maybe you are right. Even the best communities need some people as a reminder of how lucky they are not to be like them. And at least you have quite a pretty face as long as you don’t open your mouth.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just call me pretty?”, you asked, expecting that he would qualify his statement right away, but Malfoy just shrugged his shoulders.

“Never said you are not.”

That comment caught you off guard. You stared at him with widened eyes and felt your cheeks redden slightly, not sure how to respond to something he said to you when it was not an insult.

When Malfoy saw you looking at him like this, a small grin appeared on his face.

“What? Got nothing to say?”

“What´s the snag?”, you asked, eying him distrustfully, still waiting for the turning point.

“Nothing. I just complimented you. Normally you say thank you or compliment the other person as well.”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“You wish Malfoy. Unfortunately, there is nothing I could compliment you about, even if I wanted to.”

Malfoy just rolled his eyes in response.

“C´mon (Y/l/n), you are always so nice to everyone. Why not to me?”

You let out a small laugh in disbelief.

“Are you serious? There is just nothing nice to say about you.”

But to your surprise, the grin on Malfoy´s face only grew wider.

“We´ll see about that. But for now, I have called you pretty and nice and you just insulted me. So right now, I assume, I am the better person of us.”

“So that´s what it´s about. You want to tell everyone how to mean I am to you even when you´re nice to me.”

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe. Or maybe,”, he bent down to you, bringing his mouth close to your ear, “Maybe I just like the way you blush when I say something nice to you.”

Before this day, you had never blushed because of Malfoy. But now that he told you that, you could feel the blush on your face only deepen.

Malfoy smiled smugly at you.

“I think we will have a lot of fun this year (Y/l/n). See you around.”

He winked at you, leaving you standing alone in the aisle, speechless, with heated cheeks and a racing heart.

You were not even one week into the new school year and by now, nearly everyone was pretty sure, that over the holidays, someone had replaced the old Draco Malfoy with a new version of him. Not that he was now likeable or had a good heart, but at one point he had made such a drastic change, that this was the only explanation for his behaviour. Or more precisely, his behaviour towards you.

Over the last few years, the other students had grown used to hearing your constant bickering in the corridors and classrooms. At least once a week, someone had to duck themselves away when a mislead curse you or Malfoy had hexed on each other missed the target. And even if it was just one of you, the topic wasn’t off the table. When it was just you, they could hear you constantly complaining about what a spoiled idiot Draco Malfoy was. And when it was just Malfoy and you were nowhere in sight, they could hear him grousing about how you were not worthy of studying magic and how ashamed he was to be in one class with someone like you.

But since the beginning of this year, Malfoy hadn’t made one single comment about you. Well, that wasn’t exactly right. He had not made one negative comment about you. Whenever he saw you sitting in the Great Hall with your friends or walking down a corridor, a wide grin appeared on his face. Then he sneaked up to you, just to lay an arm around your shoulder or waving at you and compliment you. The people who traced the unusual behaviour weren’t sure what was more hilarious. Draco Malfoy, with a stupid smile on his face, making up new pick-up lines every day, or you, burying your face and blushing madly every time he did so, trying to escape the situation as soon as possible.

It wasn´t like Malfoy was actually interested in you. It was just that after all these years, Malfoy had always had the same insults he had barked at you and you had always had a quick-witted answer for him. And to see you now getting irritated and speechless by his new scam, made it much more fun than to roll out the old chestnut over and over again. So even if he enjoyed flirting with you, he just did it for your embarrassment, not because he might think that the way you lowered your had with reddened cheeks and sometimes -he wasn’t quite sure of it, but he wanted to believe it- tried to hide a small smile looked really adorable and attractive. Not at all.

Also, it wasn’t like you were interested in Malfoy. Whenever you blushed because of his pick-up lines and compliments that got worse day by day, it wasn’t because you thought they were charming, but because it embarrassed you like nothing he had ever done before. You probably could have just ignored Malfoy´s stupid attempts to get to you, if it wasn’t for the other students. Whenever they saw Malfoy walking up to you, you could hear them laughing and whispering and even if he was gone again, they continued teasing you about it. Like that, Malfoy had managed to not only annoy you when he was there, but he followed you even to your own dorm, where the other girls found it really funny to refer to Malfoy as your “boyfriend”. So when you blushed and you felt your pulse speed up, it was because Malfoy was that annoying, not because some of his compliments were actually thoughtful and the smile he gave you any time you looked at him suited him actually very well, making him look really adorable and attractive. Not at all.

“You know I dreamt about you last night (Y/n).”, Malfoy spoke up one day, as he waited at the door after class.

You just tried to ignore him, continuing to chat with Hermione, as if you hadn’t heard anything.

“Don’t you want to know what it was about?”, Malfoy continued.

“Yeah, and the essay for Professor Binns… Would you mind getting out of our way Malfoy?”, you sighted, as the tall boy stepped into the doorframe, making it impossible for you to leave.

“Not at all, love. But only when you listen to me. It´s very rude to ignore someone.”

“It´s also rude to interrupt a conversation.”, you responded.

“You can continue to talk when we are ready.”

“Or you can just wait until I am done talking to Hermione.”

“Well, then sit down ladies, because I won't get out of the way before you listened to me. I got time.”

Malfoy grinned down at you. You were considering hexing him -you hadn’t done it in a while- but you hesitated, since you didn’t want to get detention and for sure, Professor Snape, who was still standing behind his desk would let you serve some if you would try to hex Malfoy in front of him.

“For Merlin´s sake, just listen to him (Y/n). We want to get out of here.”, Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, stepped in.

You turned around and saw that the other students were already accumulating behind you. You sighted.

“Alright. Step aside and I will listen.”

Malfoy´s grin only grew wider and he paved the way right away. You made a few steps, out of the classroom, before you stopped. Hermione had followed you, looking at Malfoy distrustful.

“What is it then?”

“I dreamed about you last night.”, Malfoy repeated.

“So?”

“I dreamt the two of us were in the Three Broomsticks drinking some butterbeer. And I thought since we will go to Hogsmeade next weekend, you might want to make my dream come true.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Are you asking me out.”

Malfoy smiled at you sweetly and you could have sworn you had seen his ears turning slightly pink.

“Would you mind?”

“Actually, I would. Are you serious?”

“I am. So what do you say? You and me and some butterbeer next Saturday? I could pick you up if you want to. And I will pay of course.”

“What am I saying? No obviously.”

For a moment you thought you had seen some genuine hurt on his face, but within a second it was gone again.

“Why?”

You took a deep breath.

“Seriously Malfoy. I understand you think it´s funny to act as if you like me. And if you want to annoy me like this, fine. But if you would go to Hogsmeade with me, you would not only ruin my weekend but yours just as much. So keep on making your jokes but leave it there, okay?”

“I´m not joking (Y/n). If you´ll give me this chance I will prove it to you.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t dream about it too?”

You gave Malfoy the sweetest smile as you said: “Oh I did. But unfortunately, it was a nightmare.”

Then you walked away with Hermione, laughing and leaving Malfoy standing there alone and slightly confused.

“Honestly, (Y/n), don’t you think it´s a little bit too much effort he puts into this if it´s actually just to annoy you?”, Hermione asked.

You had thought about it too, but you didn’t have any other explanation for Malfoy´s strange behaviour. That´s why you just shrugged your shoulders in response.

Little did you know, Draco´s friends were thinking the exact same thing as Hermione. They had heard everything Draco and you had talked about and now greeted a slightly disappointed-looking Draco.

“So what was your plan for that day, if you wanted her to go there with you so badly? Inviting her and not showing up? Poisoning her butterbeer?”, Pansy Parkinson asked.

Draco looked at her with furrowed brows.

“I would not have to do anything. Just to spend a day with me would be irritating her enough.”

Draco didn’t notice the knowing look his friends exchanged.

“Mate, are you sure, this is the only reason you wanted to go with her?”, Blaise Zabini spoke up carefully.

“Obviously. What other reason would I have to spend a day with (Y/l/n)? Probably not for my own pure delight.”

“You know, you tried really hard with her the last days.”, Pansy said, glancing at the boy next to her. “And we thought maybe you are enjoying this a little bit too much.”

Draco looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“What she wants to say,”, Blaise stepped in, “Is if you are sure that you don’t… you know… actually like her?”

Draco looked at his friend in surprise.

“Me? Liking her? (Y/l/n)? She is a filthy blood traitor Blaise. What would I want to do with her? I deserve better. She´s definitely beneath my dignity. Just because I enjoy spending my time on her, doesn’t mean I enjoy spending time with her. All I want to do is annoy her until she finally gives up. Because I´m the winner of this. And just because she has that stupid little smile, doesn’t mean I´m into her or something. Understand?”

“Oh yeah, I definitely understand.”, Blaise said with a small grin on his face. “I totally got it.”

“You better did.”, Draco snapped.

And as he swaggered down the hallway, he thought about how ridiculous it was that his friends could actually believe he was into someone like you. Just because you had a ready tongue and always looked so cute when you rolled your pretty eyes in annoyance when he was talking to you, didn’t mean that he liked you. He would show everyone that even you would give in at some point. He would continue flirting with you, not because he enjoyed it, but because he enjoyed your reaction. And as he took that decision he was pretty sure that this was a good idea. Even though he had never actually thought about what he meant by you finally giving in.

A month later, neither you nor Malfoy had given in. He was still flirting with you, while you were still turning him down. By now, Malfoy not only spent his time on you by stealing some glances or talking to you, but he also brought you some small gifts -you always turned down- and wrote you letters -the cheesiest you had ever read. Even though you were obviously still annoyed by his behaviour and still sure that he had a plan behind all of this, you couldn’t help the small smile that crept on your face when he would send you flowers or write an entire letter about how much he adored the colour of your eyes or the sound of your voice when you laughed.

What no one, not even you, could deny was that it was nearly impossible that someone who was absolutely not interested in you, would pay that much attention to so many small details of your life. But the alternative explanation for his behaviour frighted you more than you wanted to admit. Whenever your friends told you that there might be a chance that he was actually into you, you just brushed it off, but that didn’t mean, you had never thought it about yourself. But the worst thing about this thought wasn’t that it was just absurd, it was that a small part of you hoped for this explanation. Because even though you hated to confess it -even to yourself- whenever you read one of Malfoy´s love letters or saw him smiling at you from across the room, it made your heartbeat quicken. And not out of anger, it was more quite the opposite. For some reason, Malfoy´s attempts to flirt with you had not only annoy you but also flattered you. And now, whenever your eyes met his grey once, they didn’t look cold anymore to you, but full of warmth and emotions. And you couldn’t help the butterflies that carefully extended their wings in your stomach, whenever someone mentioned his name. But in the end, you always came to the conclusion that that was exactly what Malfoy wanted to achieve. He probably wanted you to feel safe with him, to actually start caring for him, just to break your heart in the end and make fun of you for how you could have ever been so stupid to fall for a boy who had done nothing in his life but trying to ruin yours.

“Maybe you should just give him a chance.”, Hermione said one day.

You nearly choked on your drink as you looked at your friend in disbelief.

“What was that?”, you wheezed, pretty sure you had misheard her.

“Maybe you should give Malfoy a chance.”, she repeated.

“Mione, you are the last person I would have expected to support him.”, you said, giving her a reproachful look.

“I never said you should fall for him head over heels.”, Hermione tried to explain. “I´m just saying maybe you should try to actually talk to him. Just once. Then you can find out what he wants. And if he is actually just playing with you, you can continue to turn him down. But if he doesn’t…”

You raised an eyebrow.

“If he doesn’t?”

“I see the way you look at him (Y/n). I don’t know what it is and I think you aren’t sure too. But it definitely doesn’t just annoy you anymore when he sweet talks you. I think he is not annoying you anymore.”

She looked at you with a piercing glance and you felt your face heat up once more. Red cheeks were something you hadn’t dealt with before Malfoy started to approach you. Now, they were nearly a permanent state.

You let out a small sight.

“I don’t know Mione. It´s just… I mean I still don’t like him. But what if he does? What if I´m turning him down again and again and he is actually… I mean he actually likes me? But what if I give him a chance and then it turns out he was just playing with me all the time? How should I ever be able to trust him?”

Hermione looked at you with pity in her eyes.

“I don’t think this is something someone else can tell you (Y/n). You just have to listen to your heart, I guess. I know that’s not the advice you wanted me to give you. But it´s the only one I have.” You gave your friend a thankful smile. Maybe she had helped you more than she knew.

“(Y/n), wait for me!”, Draco called you out.

You were on your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Today, the atmosphere was tense. It was a special day. The most important Quidditch match of the season would start in not even two hours. Gryffindor against Slytherin. In the last few days, every player of both teams had either been threatened or hexed. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas had gotten nearly into a fist fight with Crabbe and Goyle only yesterday as the Slytherins had told them how funny it would be if Harry would fall off his broom and break his neck. So today, you definitely weren’t in the mood for some cheesy notes or flowers. And you had assumed Malfoy wouldn’t be as well, since he was the seeker of the Slytherin team and was under great pressure.

“(Y/n), wait.”, he called you out again.

You sighted and turned around.

“Malfoy?”

Harry and Ron, who had accompanied flanked you now like two bodyguards. But Malfoy barely even looked at them.

“I was just wondering if you would like to celebrate with me after the match?”, he asked, ignoring the incredulous snort, Ron let out.

“I think if you have a reason to celebrate, I won´t have and the other way around.”, you said.

You couldn’t imagine Malfoy cheering happily with the Gryffindors if you would win.

“Well, I´m pretty sure I will win. And then I have a reason to celebrate. And if we will lose, which I highly doubt,”, he glanced at Harry, “you are going to be happy about it and seeing you happy is also a reason to celebrate.”, he ended with a cheeky grin.

“I don’t think I will appreciate celebrating with the Slytherins and you won´t celebrate with the other Gryffindors.”

“Well, then we could do a party on our own.”, Malfoy winked at you.

You pulled a face in disgust, even though your mind started drifting off into unholy thoughts at his words.

“I resign, thanks.”

You just wanted to turn around, as Malfoy stopped you once more.

“Okay, that was a bad idea. But I have another one. If I´ll catch the snitch, you are going to the three Broomstick with me next week. And if scarface catches the snitch, “, he shot a deadly glance at Harry, “I will leave you alone from now on. Agreed?”

You hesitated for a moment. Hermione´s words echoed in your head. “Maybe you should just give him a chance.” If Malfoy would win, he would get his chance and you would get one to find out, what he was up to, too. And if Harry would catch the snitch, all your problems would disappear anyway.

So you nodded.

“Agreed.”

Malfoy smiled at you. It was one of the smiles, that made your heart beat faster once more.

“Great. Then I will see you next week.”

“Don’t be so sure of that. Harry is way better than you. But good luck trying.”

When Malfoy was out of earshot, Harry looked at you doubtfully.

“You think that was a good idea?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“What could possibly go wrong. I know you´re going to be as great as usual.”

Ron laughed.

“No pressure mate.”

But as it was time for Harry and Ron to go to the pitch, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

“You better catch that snitch before Malfoy does.”, you mumbled.

Harry gave you a wry smile.

“I´ll try my best.”

“Good luck then!”, you said.

You saw Malfoy watching you talking to your friend closely. And for some reason, you leaned forward and gave Harry a small kiss on his cheek. And when you looked up again, you saw with great satisfaction, that Malfoy, who was standing only a few meters away, was boiling.

“So who do you want to win today (Y/n)? Honestly.”, Hermione asked you.

You were already standing on the stand and watching the players taking their positions.

“Gryffindor of course. This is about the cup.”, you said, quite offended that Hermione was even asking you such things.

“Okay, let me put it this way. Who do you want to catch the snitch?”

This question was for some reason more difficult to answer. When you kept quiet, a knowing grin appeared on Hermione´s face.

“I thought so.”

The match already lasted nearly two hours. Gryffindor was in the lead, thirty points before Slytherin. But if Malfoy would catch the snitch, everything might change. Not only in the game. Suddenly, a whispering went through the onlookers. Hermione next to you jumped up and down in excitement, clenching at the hem of your coat.

“(Y/n), it´s the snitch. Over there!”

You followed her gaze. There it was, nearly ten meters above the ground, shimmering brightly in the midday sun. Everyone turned their heads, even the players. One of the Slytherin chasers let the Quaffle fall down to the ground, as he spun around. Your gaze wandered from the snitch to Harry and Malfoy on their brooms. Both of them were nearly as far off as the other one.

The next moments felt like you would watch the scene in slow-motion, even if it were only a few seconds. Harry and Malfoy both flew -literally- in the direction of the snitch. It was right in front of the stand to your left, sometimes getting near the ground before pacing up into the air again. Harry and Malfoy both neared the snitch at an inhumanly pace.

“Dear lord, they are going to crash into the stand.”, Hermione whispered, as she grabbed your hand. Your mouth was dry. All you could do was squeeze her hand tightly.

Harry was a few centimetres in front of Malfoy. In the last second, he dodged the stand, flying away shortly above the heads of the viewers, who screamed in shock.

Malfoy on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky as Harry, instead of slowing down or turning around at the last second, he flew into the stand at full speed. You could hear a nasty splinter when Malfoy hit the wood of the stand before it knocked him off of his broom and he fell, at least seven meters down to the ground.

It felt like the world stood still for a moment and so did your heart. Everyone held their breath for a moment, before the whispering around you slowly started again, rising to screams of terror.

Within seconds, the teachers had reached Malfoy, who was lying on the ground and didn’t move.

The people around you flocked down at the pitch, but you stood frozen in your place, still held a tight grip around Hermione´s hand.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), are you okay?”, you heard the voice of your best friend, but it sounded muffled as if you had some cotton in your ears.

“Do you think he´s… Do you think he´s hurt bad?”, you whispered, your eyes still fixed on the place where Malfoy must be lying, but a crowd of students was blocking your sight.

What you had just asked Hermione, wasn’t what you originally wanted to say, but you couldn’t get yourself to voice your actual thoughts.

“Professor Dumbledore is down there and Madame Pomfrey. They will take care of him.”, Hermione said in a soft voice.

She looked around. You were the only one still standing on your stand, everyone else was down at the pitch.

“Should we… Should we get down there?”, she suggested carefully.

You nodded, trying to ignore the strange lump in your throat and the trembling of your hands.

And just as you wanted to leave, Lee Jordan´s weak voice echoed through the arena: “Draco Malfoy has caught the snitch. Slytherin wins.”

It was one week after the match. Draco was still in the hospital wing, still unconscious. Everyone was in a subdued mood, even the Gryffindors. Draco´s crash had looked really bad and even if Madame Pomfrey had stated that he would be alright again soon, everyone was at least a little bit worried about him. And if your friends wouldn’t have been worried about Draco for his own sake, they would have been for yours, because since the match, you didn’t really know what to do with yourself. It wasn’t just that you felt somehow lonely without Draco´s constant flirting, it was also the little voice inside your head, telling you that all of this was your fault. You knew it was rubbish, but you just couldn’t help but wonder if Draco might have not been so eager to catch the snitch if it hadn’t been for your promise you would go out with him if he would catch it. Your friends tried to cheer you up, but anytime the smallest smile escaped your lips, you felt guilty again immediately, knowing Draco was still in the hospital wing.

You were just sitting at dinner, picking at your food, when you felt a presence behind you. You turned around and looked at a tall boy in a Slytherin robe. You recognized him. It was Blaise Zabini, a friend of Draco. You had never talked to him and you were pretty sure you had never seen a friendly expression on his face before, but when you looked at him questioningly, you could see a small smirk playing around his lips.

“Draco woke up a few hours ago. I just thought I´d let you know.”

Zabini looked at you as if there was something else he wanted to say, but then he decided not to do so and left without another word.

Your friends looked at you curiously.

You placed the fork next to your plate and looked at them.

“I think I´ll just go to… to the toilet.”, you stuttered, before you stood up quickly.

Before you left, you heard Ron calling: “Pass on our greetings to Malfoy!”

When you walked up to his bed, you saw Draco´s eyes were closed. Madame Pomfrey had told you he was still weak and needed much rest, but still, she had allowed you to get to him. But as you saw Draco lying there, pale and most likely asleep, you regretted your decision to want to approach him. You wouldn’t know what to say anyway. You lingered next to his bed for a few moments before you decided it was probably best to come back at another time.

But just as you turned around to leave, you heard his voice.

“Where do you think you´re going love?”

His voice sounded raspy and his eyes were only opened to slits, but you could feel the smugness radiating from him when he realized who had come to visit him.

“I´m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”, you said in a low voice. You noticed it sounded slightly shaky.

Draco threw you a lazy smile.

“Don’t worry, I´ve already been waiting for you.”

“You did?”

“Of course. And now that I see my pretty girl, I feel already better again.”

“You can´t help it, can you?”, you sighted, not knowing whether you were annoyed or flattered.

“Not when it´s you, my love.”

You took a step closer to the head of Draco´s bed.

“How do you feel? Seriously, I mean.”

Draco let out a small groan.

“Some broken bones and a concussion. Madame Pomfrey told me I was lucky. A few more days and I will be out of here again.”

He didn’t look like he would be fine again in just a few days, but you just nodded.

“You were not only lucky but also stupid. What were you even thinking to crash into that stupid stand?”

Draco chuckled but pulled a face in pain as he did so.

“Needed to catch the snitch. Because now,”, the grin on his face grew only wider, “you owe me a date.”

You felt your heart clench at his words. You had known it. It was all your fault.

Draco noticed the look on your face.

“I was just making fun.”, he tried to calm you down again quickly.

But you shook your head. You weren’t sure if you were madder at him or at you for letting this happen.

“That was so stupid.”, you snapped. Your voice sounded harsher than you had intended. “Nearly getting yourself killed just you could keep on playing with me. If you want to bother me, feel free to do so, but you have to stay alive for this. That´s not worth it. All these quarrels aren’t worth it that you die. I´m not worth it.”

You could feel the lump in your throat building up once more. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, even though you could feel Draco´s eyes burning on you.

“You think that´s what this is about?”, he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Well, you just told me, you did this so you could go out with me. This wasn’t even for the cup. Even if that would have been just as stupid.”

“I wanted to catch the snitch that bad because I wanted to go out with you (Y/n).”, Draco agreed, his voice sounding softer than you had ever heard it. “But not because I wanted to keep playing with you.”

You raised your head and looked at him in surprise. Draco carefully sat up and rested his body on his elbows.

“Do you really think I was doing all of this because I still hated you?”, he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Didn’t you?”

Draco let out a small sigh.

“In the beginning I did, but as time went by… I actually enjoyed doing all these things for you, even if you didn’t seem to appreciate it.”, he chuckled. “And I was hoping if we would go out and it would be just the two of us, you might be able to actually give me a chance. I was hoping I would get to know you. How you really are, I mean. When you wouldn’t be scared that I might hex you the next moment. And I was hoping you might grow into liking me as well.”

“As well?”

Draco smiled.

“As well. Because I do. Liking you, I mean. At least what I do know about you. And I´m sure I will absolutely adore the rest.”

There it was again, the blush that crept back onto your cheeks. The blush you hated so much because it gave you away and the blush Draco loved so much for the exact same reason.

“And since I caught the snitch, you owe me that date.”, Draco closed.

A small smile crept on your lips.

“We agreed that if you would catch the snitch, we would meet next week in the three Broomstick. And this was last week. So our date would have been yesterday.”

“Oh well, then that´s it I guess.” If you really don´t want to..., Draco muttered and looked at the ground, slightly disappointed.

The smile on your face only grew wider.

“But if you would ask me again, I might say yes once more. And this time you wouldn’t have to get to the hospital wing for a week first.”

Draco looked at you in disbelieve. Then he mirrored your smile.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n), would you do me the favour and go out with me when I´m out of here?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it for a second.

“Remember I´m still weak. I can´t deal with bad news right now.”, Draco teased you.

“I think then I have no other choice but to say yes, do I?”

Draco smiled smugly.

“Exactly.”

Taglist: @xodracomalfoyxo @marigold-morelli @writingwitch007 @army24--7

[resi4skz]

Hope you like this one!

Pairing: Chan x Fem!reader

Title: Neverending Story

"What are you doing?"

I look up, pause, my eyes widening. "Rough night?"

My roommate/best friend, gives me a look. "No?"

"You really need to look at the mirror," shaking my head as I go back to icing the cake in front of me. I hear her groan as she sits across from me.

"Don't tell me you're doing all that," she gestures at the cake, "for him?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Y/N."

"What?" I blink at her.

She just shakes her head and walks over to the coffee pot to pour herself cup. "Just don't come running to me when things don't go your way."

Before I could ask what she meant, I turn but she's gone back in her room. What the hell?

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

I sipped on my coffee as I waited for my other best friend to arrive. Chan was my best friend since the start of high school. Now, as we're both 25 and studying at the same university, we hang out every day. Even if it's just for 10 mins before our next class started. But today was his birthday. And I would always bake a cake for his birthday. Smiling, I set the coffee mug down when I see him walking towards where I was sitting.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm late," he says, shrugging off his jacket. "Traffic and all."

"Chan, it's okay," I giggle as he sits across from me. A waiter appears and places a hot mug of green tea in front of him.

"Okay, it's already a better day," he takes a sip, closing his eyes. "This is making me forget the cold outside."

I slide the cake box across the table. His eyes light up. "As always, your favorite. But I added my own little touch this time." The cake had chocolate filling and tasted like ferrero rocher chocolates, which was his favorite.

He opens the box and smiles widely. "Y/N, it's so pretty. I don't wanna eat it."

I laugh softly. "Channie, happy birthday."

He chuckles. "Thank you."

My phone buzzes. "Sorry. I'm gonna take this." I excuse myself, leaving him to eat the cake. "Hello?"

"Yo."

I roll my eyes. "Luna, you need to lay off the coffee."

"No can do," she replies. "Listen, let's go clubbing tonight!"

I peek back at Chan, who's biting into piece of the cake, making me smile when he does his happy fist dance. That's when I know he really likes it. "Text me the place and time," I replied.

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

*THE CLUB*

"Y/N, honey, that dress," Luna says, twirling me around. "Well, safe to say you made heads turn."

"Oh hush," I chuckle, waving a hand.

"Could you get me a drink?" She excuses herself to go to the bathroom as I walk over to the bar. The music blaring, I could barely hear myself talk. When it eas finally my turn, I order a blue motorcycle for Luna and a screwdriver for myself.

"Can I pay for those drinks?" A voice comes from behind me. I turn, my eyes widening at the guy leaning against the bar. He's wearing a blue shirt with black jeans and.....good looking.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If you're willing to pay for the second rounds for me and my friend," I state, tilting my head.

He laughs and I wasn't gonna lie if my stomach did somersaults. "I'm Mike."

"Y/N," I replied smiling.

"You here alone?"

"Uh, no. I came with my friends."

The bartender slides the drinks to me. "No boyfriend?"

I snort. "No." I sip my drink and grimace at the taste. Who the fuck likes these drinks?

"Hey, did you order my dri....hellooooo." Oh, great.

"Luna. Mike. Mike. Luna." I introduce them. They exchange their hellos and she turns to me, grabbing her drink.

"Well, I'll be with the others," she says, winking at me before turning around and walking away.

Well, atleast one less obstacle now. Good thing she knows how to read a room. "Care to dance?" Mike asked.

Smiling, I nod my head. "Sure." He leads me to the dance room. With my back to him and drink in my hand, I sway my body to the music as his hands land on my hips. He sways with me, moving to match my movements. Turning around, I move my hips getting very close to him. Damn, he smells good. But as my eyes meet his, I'm about to take a sip of my drink when it's snatched from my hand. "Hey!" I look to my right to find Chan, glaring at Mike. "Channie?"

"Is this your way of getting girls in your pants?" Chan asks Mike, who blinks back at Chan.

"What the hell, Chan?"

"Y/N, he just spiked your drink."

"What?"

"Tell her," Chan demanded, taking a step towards Mike.

"So what if I did?" Mike smirks and glances at me. "No hard feelings, sweetheart but a woman like you I would never go for."

It's like everything inside me stop. My blood running cold. A woman like me? I blink at the words. "You bastard!" It's all I hear from Chan before he swings his fist at Mike, sending him staggering back. "It's guys like you that give every nice guy, like me, a bad name." Chan then turns to me, offering me his hand. "Let's go, Y/N."

My body reacts on its own. Taking his hand, we both walk out of the club.

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

*CHAN'S POV*

Back at Y/N's apartment, I'm sitting on one of the kitchen stool as she rummages theough her kitchen cabinets to find a first aid kit. I managed to partially split open the skin between my knuckes when I punched that douche bag. I watch as she stands to my right, grabbing my hand and dabbing rubbing alcohol with a cotton ball. I hiss at the sting. "Ah, I'm sorry!"

I blink, chuckling. "It's okay, Y/N." As she goes back to cleaning the cut, I admire her from where I'm sitting. She will never know. She will never know how I find her little chubby cheeks so adorable. A sudden pang in my heart falters my smile. Does she know how dear she is to me?

"Y/N."

"Hmm?" She says, opening a bandage.

"I have been meaning to ask you something for a while now."

As she places one bandage over a cut, I prepare myself for the worst. "Okay. Shoot."

Taking a deep breath, I clasp her hand, the one that was going to put another bandaid on. "Do you see me more than a friend?"

"What?" She laughs nervously, finally putting the bandaid on.

I give her a look. "We've been friends since high school and never once in my life I have felt like this about anyone but you."

"Chan, wha...what are you saying?" She asked.

I retract my hand, trying not to clench into a fist. "I'm saying that," I look into her eyes. "I like you, Y/N."

"What?"

"More than a friend."

The silence that followed after was enough for me to raise my hand towards her, thinking she feels the same way but she steps back. And that action alone was enough for an answer. "Channie, you're my best friend."

"Yeah. I got that," I replied, cold in my voice. "Listen, I have to go." I stand up and walk towards the door but a hand stops me.

"Where are you going?"

I yank my hand back. "I don't know. Air. Away from here." And I was gone.

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

*Y/N POV*

For the next few weeks, I don't hear from Channie. At all. He doesn't even reply to my texts. He said he likes me. But why do I feel this.....uneasiness? Why do I feel like I'm the one that did something wrong? I pick up my phone and type another text.

Y/N: channie? Can you atleast tell me you're alive?

"Oh, look who turned up," Luna says.

I look up as I hit send. He's walking with a few of his friends across from us as Luna and I wait for our next class to start. My breath hitches in my breath. Well, that's the answer to my text. He glances towards me and my cheeks heat. What the fuck? Why am I blushing? I hear Luna's giggling and I snap my head towards her. "What's so funny?"

"Oh man," she snaps her book shut. "You're totally into him."

I gape at her. "I am not!"

"Okay. If you say so," she rolls her eyes and gathers her things. "Remember what I told you last time. If things go bad, don't come running to me."

Before I can reply, she's walking away to her class. I'm not into him. I'm not. I can't be. It's not possible. There's no way.

*******************************************************

I'm totally into him. I am. It's definitely possible. Because for the past few days, whenever he walks by me or I see him walking in the hallways, I find myself short of breath or totally get red in the face. "How is it that all this time I haven't realized how hot he looks in just a plain white shirt and jeans?"

Luna snorts and takes a sip of her coffee. It was winter break early for us, so we got two months off instead of juet a few weeks. Plus, our finals for the semesters were done. Luna and I were having our usual coffee date at the cafe that was close to our apartment as it was very convenient for us. Plus, her boyfriend, Han, was one of the popular barista's. They were very cute together. And he also happens to the best friend of Chan. Which made everything worse, for me.

"Han is looking at you again," I say.

She turns in her chair and her eyes light up when he waves at her, giving her a flying kiss. Good god. They were getting too sweet for me. "You two are going to give me diabetes."

"Trust me when I say you and Chan will give me diabetes when you get together," she replied.

"And what makes you think him and I will be together?" I asked to which she shrugged.

"It's been weeks, Y/N. When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you like him?"

I snort. "Yeah. That's not going to happen....." I drawl out the word because the person I was the least expecting just walked in. "Fuck me," I curse under my breath.

"What? What's wrong?" She asked concerned.

"Luna, I cannot be here. I can't be here with him in the same room. I can't handle another rejection," I said, my breath getting faster.

"What so you mean another rejection?" She blinks. "Wait, did he reject you?"

*FLASHBACK*

I waited outside his class, playing with my fingers when the students walk out. My eyes frantically search for him. When I spot him, I sprint towards him. "Channie."

He turns, surprised to see me. "Y/N."

"Can we talk?" I glance around us, students walking by. "Somewhere a bit quieter?"

And so we were standing in one of the university's garden as it's more of the quieter one. "So, you wanted to talk? About what?"

My cheeks heat as I clear my throat. "Channie, I know that you've been avoiding me ever since that night. And I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me that night as well. And well," I take a deep breath, "I like you, Chan."

After a beat, I hear him laughing. I give him a perplexed expression. "You're funny, Y/N."

"Huh?"

"I tell you that I like you and all it took was me to ignore you to realize your feelings?" He laughs some more.

It irks me, making me angry. "What's so funny?"

"What's funny is that," he looks straight into my eyes, his expression blank. "I don't feel the same way anymore. I got tired of being just the best friend."

"So what are you saying?" I asked, on the verge of tears.

"I'm saying that it's best if we part ways, Y/N. Let's find our own path to happiness, even if it means finding it in another person," he replied smiling. "See you around, Y/N." And he leaves, my heart breaking in pieces.

*PRESENT*

"I just can't. I'll see you when you get home," I say grabbing my bag and as I walked by his table, I felt his eyes on me but I was glad to be out of there. Releasing a breath of relief, I start walking in the direction of my apartment. Maybe it is best we parted ways. Maybe this will be good for us.

But a part of me wanted him to run after me.

The next few days, it's my turn to avoid him. Even if I saw in the hallway, I would walk by him without glancing at his way. And I think he noticed because there were a few times he tried to get my attention. And all those times, Luna dragged me away, which I thanked her for afterwards.

Even though it was my winter break, I still used the universities amenities as it helped me with focus. And today was a day where the university held a small event for everyone outside near the main enterance as it had less traffic going by. The event was very small and it was all christmas related. Luna, once again, dragged me to watch and Han tagged along.

"Luna, I want to go home," I protested.

"Would it kill you to just enjoy a few minutes of this event?!" She said, almost yelling. Keyword being almost.

I surrended and watched a few of the students sing christmas songs and played instruments. I was impressed by a few but soon, I was getting too impatient to leave. So I turn to Luna. "I'm going to go. I'll see you when you get home."

"But, Y/N-"

"Ladies and gentlemen! Our next performer is our top student from our music program! He's written many songs and I'm sure some of you may already know him by now!"

I stop mid step and whirl around. What? It can't be....

"Give it up for the one and only, the lovely and handsome, Chan!" The speaker says into the mic as the crowd erupts into an applause. But I'm frozen on the stop as I see him approach the mic.

"The song I'm about to sing is fairly new one so I do apologize if there are a few errors," he says smiling. And I notice he's got a guitar too. How did I never knew that he also played guitar?

His fingers hit the strings of the guitar the first few seconds before his mouth gets close to the mic. And the most angelic voice comes through the speakers.

기억해 우리 처음 만난 날

Gieokhae uri cheo-eum mannan nal

Remember the first day we met

수줍던 미소와 쏟아지던 햇살을

Sujupdeon misowa ssodajideon haessareul

A shy smile and the sunlight falling

눈빛만 보아도 나는 알 수 있었어

Nunbitman boado naneun al su isseosseo

I knew, just by looking into your eyes

우리는 하난 걸 (우리는 하난 걸)

Urineun hanan geol (urineun hanan geol)

That we're one (That we're one)

네가 나란 걸

Niga naran geol

That you're me

네가 웃을 때나 힘들 때나 항상 지켜줄게 (너를 위해)

Niga useul ttaena himdeul ttaena

Hangsang jikyeojulge (neoreul wihae)

Whenever you smile, whenever it's hard for you

I'll always protect you (For you)

시간마저 거슬러서 네 앞에 나타날게

Siganmajeo geoseulleoseo ne ape natanalge

I can go against time, so I can appear in front of you

I believe, I believe

세상이 바뀌어도 변치 않아 약속해 줄래

I believe I believe

Sesangi bakkwieodo byeonchi anha yaksokhae jullae

I believe, I believe even if the world changes

Can you promise that we won't change?

이 아름다운 곳에서

I areumdaun goseseo

At this beautiful place

널 사랑했던 모든 기억은

Neol saranghaetdeon modeun gieogeun

All the memories where I loved you

끝나지 않을 이야기가 되어

Kkeutnaji anheul iyagiga doe-eo

Will become a neverending story

빛날 거야

Binnal geoya

It'll shine

Never say goodbye 너와 난 하나니까

Never say goodbye neowa nan hananikka

Never say goodbye, because we are one

같은 꿈 속을 함께 거닐 테니까

Gateun kkum sogeul hamkke geonil tenikka

Because we will walk together in the same dream

지금 이대로 넌 내 곁에서 웃어주기로 해요

Jigeum idaero neon nae gyeoteseo useojugiro haeyo

Continue smiling by my side just like this moment

내일 보다 멀리 영원보다 오래

Naeil boda meolli yeongwonboda orae

Longer than tomorrow, farther than eternity

사랑해 널

Saranghae neol

I love you

This time, I don't know how, he looks straight at me in the crowd and sings the next verse.

Never say goodbye 너와 난 하나니까

Never say goodbye neowa nan hananikka

Never say goodbye, because we are one

같은 꿈 속을 함께 거닐 테니까

Gateun kkum sogeul hamkke geonil tenikka

Because we will walk together in the same dream

지금 이대로 넌 내 곁에서 웃어주기로 해요

Jigeum idaero neon nae gyeoteseo useojugiro haeyo

Continue smiling by my side just like this moment

내일 보다 멀리 영원보다 오래

Naeil boda meolli yeongwonboda orae

Longer than tomorrow, farther than eternity

사랑해 널

Saranghae neol

I love you

The crowd roars and gave him a standing ovation as he bows. But he puts his finger on his lips and immediately the entire crowd becomes quiet as he stands in front of the mic again. "This song, I wrote a couple of days ago when a certain someone told me about her feelings for me."

I can't move. My eyes are fixed on him and him only.

"At first, I wanted to yell at her for taking so long to reciprocate my feelings. But then," he looks at me and smiles, showing those dimples I fell for. "I saw her. I truly saw her."

"Who's the girl?!" Someone from the crowd shouted causing everyone to laugh.

"That girl is my best friend since high school. I started seeing her as more than a friend 3 years ago on her birthday when I gave her the earrings she had been wanting."

I gasp, my hands immediately touching my ears. The earrings. I never took them off.

"It was only a year after, that I realized I had fallen in love with her."

The crowd went 'ooooo' and 'ahhhh.'

"So, Y/N."

Luna silently squeals and slaps me on my back, snapping me back to reality. "Y/N! Go!"

"But-"

"Go!" She pushes me and the crowd makes way for me to walk towards the stage. As I walked, I glance around at the people giving me encouragement. Then my eyes land on him, standing on the stage holding out his hand. I take his hand and he pulls me up on the stage as the crowd, once again, erupts in loud applause.

"Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!" The crowd chants.

Taking off the guitar, he takes a step closer to me. But I beat him to it first. "Did you mean it?"

"Every word," he replied, smiling as he yanks me towards him.

"Say it again."

"I love you, Y/N."

I smile, forgetting about the people watching us. "Kiss him already!"

We both laugh. "May I?" He asks.

I nod. He leans down, his arms sliding around my waist as my arms go around his neck. When our lips touch, the crowd roars the loudest it has been. When we break apart, one person shouts, "Encore! Encore!"

This time, he crashes his lips on mine. And I lose myself in the kiss. I never want this to end.

This is our Neverending story.

[peonierose]

Losing Game

(2/4)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Luna Auclair (F!OC)

Rating: Mature / Angst 

TW: Mental Health

Words: 1,000+

Summary: Bryce comes back from visiting his father in prison. Though he didn’t tell Luna. Will things work out between them? Or will they drift further apart?

A/N: If you haven’t read the first part you can catch up on Part 1 here

Sidenote: If you want to listen to some music, I got you I created a list on Spotify for all four parts. Here’s the list for Part 2 🥰

Bryce

I parked the car in the garage and shut off the engine. I got out and felt the night air surrounding me.

It’s so much quieter now that the engine is off. Only the sound of the ocean and cicadas can be heard.

When I walked out I could hear Luna in the kitchen singing along to a song on the radio. It’s from the eighties I think.

When she heard me come in, her whole face transformed into a beautiful smile. Her blue-green eyes lit up like the stars. I hate that those starlit eyes will go out.

”Hey handsome I’ve missed you,“ Luna walked towards me and leaned against my chest smiling at me.

I smiled but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Her smile dimmed and she looked at me. She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion.

But I just needed a minute to settle down. I opened the cabinet where we kept the strong stuff.

I opened a bottle of scotch. A gift from Ethan and Hayley. Who knew this is exactly what I need right now? And pour myself a drink.

I knocked it back like it was water and poured another round.

”B what’s wrong? You’re scaring me a little,“ she pulled her pink sweater closer around herself.

”I went to see my dad,“ I took a sip of my second glass of scotch.

There’s pain and confusion in her eyes. I hate seeing it there. She straightened her shoulders and looked me square in the eyes.

”What? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve gone with you!“ She said, coming closer. She put the glass out of my hands and placed it on the kitchen table.

”This is something I needed to do on my own. I just didn’t want anyone to come with me, since I didn’t even know if I’d have the guts to go inside,“ I admitted.

”B no one and I repeat no one would have judged you,“ her voice getting soft.

I sighed in frustration.

”Don’t you get it? I wanted to go alone…I…“ I ran out of words and shoved my hands through my hair.

I’d rather throw my glass against the wall, to see it shatter, like my heart is shattering right now. I sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Luna sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. Her hands were placed over her stomach.

And I felt like even more of an asshole. I didn’t want to add any kind of stress to her. But damn it if my emotions aren’t a raging tornado inside my chest.

”I didn’t mean to keep it a secret. I needed answers. Peace. Solace. Closure. I needed something,“ I said and I could tell Lunes was mad and disappointed in me. Her eyes display everything.

”I’m just sad you didn’t tell me, Bryce. I’d be the last person to judge you. I love you. We’re getting married. We’re having twins for god's sake. I feel like you excluded me and that hurts,“ she breathed hard and I could see her pulse kick up.

The vein at her neck throbbed. Meilani is already worried about Lunes' pregnancy and wants her to be more careful and avoid any stressful situations.

I let out a breath I was holding in and sat next to her.

”I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I know how much you’d want my parents at our wedding and in our children’s lives. I tried getting some closure for myself. I wanted to get a feel for what they’re like now! I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about them. Like some fairy tale,“ I said it and instantly regretted it.

She snorted.

”Look if you don’t want them in our lives, okay fine. But don’t treat me like an idiot. I might be blonde but I’m not stupid. I can form my own opinion. Thank you very much. You’ve kept it pretty close to what your parents have done, and that’s your right. But sometimes it feels like I don’t know you or at least not everything. Sometimes it feels like I’m on the outside looking in,“ her voice getting smaller by the second.

I wish she’d scream at me or throw things. This quietness is almost unbearable. It’s killing me. It’s different. Seeing her this quiet isn’t something I’m used to seeing.

I want to reach out my hand and touch her, but I let my hand fall to the side. I don’t think she’d welcome my touch right now.

I breathe out just to have something to do.

This is our first real fight. And so close to the wedding too.

God, what a mess I created. I reached for the glass with the drink.

And take a sip. Feeling the alcohol burn down my throat. Exactly what I needed.

”Lunes…“ I started.

She stopped me.

”Don‘t. I get that this is very personal and it’s painful to talk about. But you could’ve told me. I would’ve respected it if you said you’d want to go alone. But not saying anything? And then just drop that bomb on me? Not fucking cool Bryce!“

I sigh and put my head in my hands. She’s saying my full name instead of B. Which tells me she’s pissed and she has every right to be.

It will take some time for Luna to forgive me and get over the fact that I lied.

”I don’t even know why we’re fighting about this,“ I said and she didn't say anything to that.

”We’re fighting because we don’t keep secrets from each other Bryce. Yes, our relationship isn’t perfect. But you’re usually not a liar Bryce.“

I flinched as if she slapped me and didn't respond to her. We’re both raw from the words we exchanged. Feeling every single quiet and soft whisper, and it’s like a blow to my body.

She sighs.

”I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. I’m mad and sad…pregnancy hormones suck.“

We both smile at each other, but then we get serious again. We both look away. The distance between us grew by the second.

Luna fumbled with her hair and I stared off into space not sure what to say.

A lump formed in my throat again, making it difficult to swallow past it.

”I get it. It was an asshole move. But I didn’t know what to do,“ I say, my voice almost breaking at that.

Luna's face crumbled at the pain in my voice.

”Oh B,“ she murmured and I leaned on her shoulder and cried again.

She held me tight until I leaned my forehead onto her shoulder.

”Your sweater is all wet,“ my voice gruff as I wiped away some tears.

She waved me off.

”I don’t give a rat's ass about my sweater. What I do care about is you,“ she cupped my face into her hands and gave me a gentle kiss. One full of emotions. What she couldn’t say with words, she conveyed with her kiss.

When we broke apart I could see that some traces of pain were left in her beautiful blue-green eyes.

Reminding me that I was the one who put that pain there. I hung my head in shame.

”I didn’t mean to blindside you like that Lu,“ I whisper.

She sighed against me.

”I know. It hurt me and I guess…I’ll need some time to get over it. I can understand why you did it, but I’m hurt you didn’t tell me,“ she said.

I looked up at her.

”What now?“ I asked her. Completely baffled. I have no idea what to say to that.

She shrugged, distancing herself from me. Not just physically but emotionally as well, which hurt more than if she flung any objects or words at me.

I’ve never felt more apart from her than now. As if I tried to grasp her hand and it slipped out of reach.

Luna rubbed her head.

”I don’t know B. Maybe we should just go to sleep?“ She asked hesitantly as if not sure where we stood.

I nodded. Nothing is resolved. But I couldn’t be alone. Not tonight.

As much as I craved space from everyone and anyone, I’m still selfish because I wanted her next to me.

To feel her soft skin beneath my palms. To caress her body.

We walked upstairs. The whole room was tense. We silently got into our sleep attire.

Lunes put one of my Stanford t-shirts on, the ones she used as a sleep shirt, as I got in some sleep shorts resting low on my hips.

Sliding the comforter aside we got into bed. The ceiling fan was on full blast.

Even though we’re still unsure of the whole situation. One thing is for sure. Our love is still strong and it won’t die.

Later in the night, I woke up to find Luna snuggled into my side. Clutching my hand close to her cheek.

I smiled down at her. Trying to extract my hand to envelop her in my arms. She stirred slightly and saw how she was clutching my hand close to her.

”Sorry I…“ she tried to scoot away.

But I don‘t let her.

”Lunes. No matter what happens my love for you is never in doubt,“ I pulled her closer.

I felt her nod more than I could see it.

We held hands and fell asleep. We still have ways to go, but I know we’ll be alright.