#luna's farewell

[same-pic-of-the-moon-everyday]

[OOC Post]

Hey everyone!

I have a bit of a sad announcement: I'm retiring from being Moon. My IRL life has started to require more of my time, and I don't feel like I can give this blog the attention it needs in addition to that. I've had a lot of fun, and I am so honored that so many people decided to join me in this (special shoutouts to @same-pic-of-the-sun-everyday and @same-pic-of-the-earth-everyday )!

But don't worry-- Moon isn't going anywhere. I've passed the blog on to someone else who's already in the celestial-same-picverse. I know they'll do great.

I hope to see you all again one day!

This is Luna, over and out.

[askdrunktwilight]

I guess this was inevitable, especially after months of this blog going without updates. I'm sad to say it, but this is the end of Ask Drunk Twilight.

This has been on my mind for a while now and I did consider other options. But in the end I knew that I've lost interest with Drunk Twi and I have to let it go now.

I'm sorry for everyone who waited for an update, and I'm sorry for everyone who wanted to see where the story would go. I feel like I've failed you and I hope you can all forgive me.

When I started this blog, it was just a little crazy ask blog meant to play around the idea of a alcoholic Twilight. I didn't expect it to become popular.

This blog is an important piece of my life. I met so many people because of it and gained many new friends because of it. This blog also helped me improve my art. Looking back at the firsts posts I made, I'm surprised how far I've gone.

I'm thankful for this blog, and I'm thankful for all the followers who supported it. Without you I wouldn't have made it this far.

I'm sad that this blog has to end, but I'm happy for all the things it brought me.

Besides, it's not the end for me yet. I still have another blogs out there, which you all can check out if you're interested. It's no Drunk Twi, but I think it's pretty cool. If you want to check it out, it's here. Also, if you want to see mroe art from me, you can check my mod blog.

Anyways, I guess that's all for this blog. Once again, thank you all for the fun memories, I hope to see you all again in other places!

[ind1c0lite]

Im still thinking about the civil trial in the beginning of 6-5 - I think its so interesting and fun to see phoenix work outside of the players pov, especially when he's working *against* apollo and athena, VERY fun I actually live for it

[davincilouelle]

Goodbye, Luna.

I had a peculiar dream, It is about you, Luna. In my dream, we swam and sang. We basked in the glory of the God's Crown. The butterflies fluttered, As we cherished the almost forever moment. Luna, you were there With your lively eyes. Humming along the symphony of birds and sky. Things are surreal; Things seem real. Yet, things are not meant to last. The sky will soon crumple and fall. Luna, say you will always stay In my embrace, my Luna. As the warmth of the eternal breeze howls, Your voice faded along the flowing time. The skies turned dim; The birds were gone. O, Luna! Where are you now? I had a peculiar dream, It was about you, My farewell to you, My beloved Luna.

[magicalmystery-muses]

Tag List Pt5: Miscellaneous Canon Muses

[mercuryxbullet]

( ooc. ) tag dump.

[belpheg0r-luna]

“we are all gentler now because we are beaten.”

[genork-the-fandork]

Hello Gen! Thanks for doing this for us! I'd love to see song #21 between Luna and a gender neutral MC. I don't mind what the plot is about :) anything related to the lyrics would be perfect. Thanks again!

Moon-Girl

Song: "I Choose You" by Andy Grammer

Lyric: "Standing here it's clearer than the sky is blue/That I choose you, I choose you"

Pairing: Luna x GN!Adventurer

Word Count: 435

A/N: Hello there, anon! I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for this, but I honestly wasn't expecting this request in my inbox! Still, I'm so happy you popped by, and I'm so happy to give Luna a last hurrah. Thanks for your support <3

Adventurer hadn't wanted to admit it, but they'd missed the Byrathes estate. They'd even missed Byrus with his grumbling and yelling. Though Byrus and Lady Byrathes were very understanding about the princess constantly summoning them to Crimson City, they still felt a little bad that they were always leaving to go take care of some emergency.

But most of all, they felt bad that every time they tried to spend time with a certain maid, a sparkling knight always seemed to show up.

This time when they returned to the estate, they'd made Florus and Zeno promise not to summon them to the city again for at least a month. "I have a job, you know," they'd sternly told them. "One I had long before I met you two."

Their expressions said otherwise, but they promised to adhere to their request. Finally, some free time. Relatively speaking.

Greeting the lord and lady of the estate, Adventurer stepped outside, hoping to find Luna. She wasn't in the garden, and strangely enough, she wasn't in the barn. Neither Lady B nor Byrus had seen her when they'd asked, so where was she?

After some fruitless searching around the estate, they found her sitting by a tree on the path leading to the main road, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes moved the slightest bit towards her periphery, so she'd definitely spotted them, but she didn't say anything to greet them. A shame.

"Hey, Moon-Girl, I'm back." Adventurer sat beside them, leaning forward so they'd be in her field of vision.

"Only a matter of time before you leave again," she said, her voice a little icier than usual.

"I made the princess and her lackey promise not to kidnap me again for at least a month."

"Oh? Tired of the royal treatment?" Was that bitterness they heard in her voice?

"Not quite. I was missing my usual maid service."

Luna raised an eyebrow, but she didn't meet their eyes just yet. This was going to be harder than they thought.

"I'm not going to insult you just to say I missed you, Luna."

Now she looked at them. A strange glint passed through her eyes, and the corners of her lips turned up. Not quite a smile, but not a frown, either. "And if I returned that sentiment?"

"Then you'd be relieved to know you're the reason I told Princess Florus and Knight Zeno to beat it."

The not-quite-smile turned into a true smirk. "Excellent."

"They might be the heir to the Empire and the greatest knight in the land, but I'd choose you each time."

[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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[hp-hcs]

okay what about mattheo following the hufflepuff boy he’s crushing on into the woods and discover some magic beast he’s been taking care of!! And he’s just like damn I want him

aaaaaaa sorry for not writing for a couple days, y’all. my fuckin roommate decided to be a dumbass and broke his motherfucking leg, so i had to very hastily write this while he’s high off his ass on ketamine 😀👍

quibbler — mattheo riddle x male! hufflepuff! lovegood! reader

warnings: dumbledore bashing, alluded snape bashing

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Luna floated down the train’s hallway, followed in tow by her younger brother—a daydream-prone Hufflepuff who was oblivious to the advances of half of the school.

“Hello, little Lovegood,” your prefect, Cedric Diggory, said warmly, looking you up and down with a quick glance as he leaned out of the doorway of his friends’ compartment.

“Hello, Mr. Diggory,” you said with a dreamy grin. “Quibbler?”

He took the magazine you held out for him with a wide grin, immediately flipping through the pages. “Thanks, little Lovegood.”

You waved farewell, already starting back down the hallway. You heard Cedric sigh behind you, before returning to his compartment.

You moved onto the next room, sliding open the door and peeking in. The conversation inside halted, and you saw three startled faces looking up at you.

“Who the fu- oh, hello Y/N. You’re looking radiant as ever,” Pansy Parkinson said, fluttering her eyelashes at you.

“Thank you, Miss Pansy,” you said softly. “Quibbler?” You held out the magazine in her direction.

She took it immediately, causing Draco to lean forward and give you a charming grin.

“Got one for me too, little Lovegood?”

“Of course, Mr. Draco!”

The last occupant of the compartment was a boy you’d never seen before. He had an odd guarded look on his face that was severely faltering as he watched his friends communicate civilly with a Hufflepuff a year below them.

“Who are you?” He asked bluntly, although not intending to be rude.

You look over and smile at him. “Hullo, mister. Y/N Lovegood. Quibbler?”

“Mattheo Riddle,” He introduced ambivalently, taking the proffered magazine with some hesitation and raising an eyebrow as he read the cover.

“‘How To Ward Off Wrackspurts’?” He questioned. “What’s a wrackspurt then?”

“Invisible. They make you all confused and higgledy-piggledy. Your friends are full of them.”

The boy glanced at his two friends, who had abandoned attempting to read the eclectic magazine in favor of just staring at you with dreamy gazes.

“Right…”

“See you around then, mister,” you said, stepping back out into the hallway and sliding their compartment door shut before continuing on your journey, unknowingly taking Mattheo Riddle’s heart with you.

~~~ “You’d better watch out for nargles, mister.”

Mattheo startled, looking around for whoever had broken his reverie.

You stood there, your uniform shirt a rumpled mess, tie nowhere to be found, in non-uniform compliant shorts and mismatched socks. You blinked up at him expectantly.

Mattheo licked his chapped lips. “What?” He croaked, his voice cracking.

You didn’t mention it, nor the obvious tears he was hastily wiping away.

“Nargles,” you repeated. “In the mistletoe.” You point upwards, at the small bundle of leaves dotted with white berries hanging above your heads.

His cheeks flushed and he started to stammer something out, but you interrupted him again.

“Here,” Shifting the milk crate that you’d tied a pink ribbon to, thus turning it into a satchel that you carried your schoolbooks in, you pulled off one of your necklaces, holding it out to him.

It was a butterbeer cork on a string. Mattheo blinked.

“Keeps the nargles away,” you explained dreamily. He took the necklace from you with utter reverence and care, swiping his sleeve over his face once more to clear off all of his tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking bewildered as he stared down at the simple pendant resting in his palm.

You just smiled, turning on your heel and starting to skip away, humming to yourself.

~~~ “Did you hear?”

“I heard he was…”

“…believe it! Hogwarts!”

“The Quibbler? Isn’t that the…”

“What’s all the chatter about?” Mattheo asked, elbowing Draco in the side to get his attention.

“Oh, little Lovegood’s in huge fucking trouble.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Draco shrugged. “Apparently he wrote an article for the Quibbler with some strong opinions in it that were considered uh… overly critical of Hogwarts staff. Dumbledork’s trying to claim libel, or something, I dunno.”

“What’d he write?” Mattheo asked. “I didn’t even know he could be critical. Or…opinionated, for that matter.”

Draco pulled a copy of the latest Quibbler out of his bag, handing it over. Mattheo flipped through bizarre crosswords, ads for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products, articles with titles like ‘Scrumple-Horned Snorkack Sighting!’ and ‘Mer-Murder: Siren Scion Shocks Sire!’, before finally flipping to Op-Eds.

==================================

Write-In: Hogwarts Student Defends Slytherin House!

Slytherins are not bad.

The system here at Hogwarts is bad. “Healthy house competition”? More like, “Hey what if we divided these eleven year olds into ‘brave’, ‘nerd’, ‘evil’, and ‘other’”.

And inter-house friendship between the ‘good’ houses and the ‘bad’ house is frowned upon. Why? Cleverness and ambition are not inherently immoral things. You know what is immoral? Allowing a house to win the House Cup, only to add enough points after the fact to change the winner of the Cup to a completely different house. But I digress.

Slytherin students here spend seven years being taunted, bullied, and outcast, and then everyone acts surprised when they get revenge? They spend years being put down, and then suddenly, they’re offered power back. Can you blame them? Now, I am in no way defending the actions of [Editor’s note——the student uses You-Know-Who’s actual name here], but I can understand the former students’ reasons for joining. And honestly, I am tired of seeing my peers be treated like a collective persona non grata, when almost all of the former Slytherin graduates are actively against [You-Know-Who]. A very small percentage of the Slytherin house are or were the turncoats in question, and it’s immoral to ostracize an entire group for the actions of just a few people. Collective punishment is a war crime.

But Hogwarts still continues to have clear opinions and preferences on all of the houses, doesn’t it?

Gryffindor is deified by the staff and in the eyes of the general public.

Ravenclaw is patronized and mocked for holding intelligence in high regard.

Hufflepuff is forgotten.

And all Slytherin students are labeled ignoble and contemptuous at the ripe age of eleven.

But alas, this dissent will change no opinions. I’m afraid that Hogwarts’ staff’s inequitable treatment of its students only means that they are digging themselves into a deeper hole, while rapidly losing the amount of people willing to hand them a ladder. I have no respect for adults who bully and abuse children.

– Apoplectic Anonymous

==================================

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “Dumblefuck’s been trying to cover it up, but Loony- Luna keeps handing more out every time he confiscates them.”

“Dude,” Mattheo shook his head with wide eyes as he scanned over the Opinion article again. “Wait- how’d he even know who wrote it? This is anonymous.”

“Dunno, man. Nobody can figure that part out,” Draco shrugged, looking around the Slytherin common room. “Hey guys! We oughtta throw a party for little Lovegood when he gets back from Dumbledick’s detention!”

The other Slytherins immediately agreed, cheering.

Mattheo just shook his head in surprise again and glanced back down at the article.

His left arm itched.

~~~ “Thank ye for th’ help, son,” Hag- Professor Hagrid said cheerily, clapping one large hand down on Mattheo’s shoulder.

(He’d never admit it, but Mattheo was forever grateful that Professor Hagrid held no grudge against him for what his dad did to him.)

((Unlike some of the other teachers, who held twenty-year grudges over being friendzoned by the girl they called a slur.))

He stacked up the last few pieces of firewood, wiping his brow and embedding the axe into the chopping log. “‘Course, sir. I could use the extra credit anyway.”

Professor Hagrid chuckled heartily. “Well, I c’n take it from here, son. Oh! Bit o’ advice?” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a certain blond who hangs out in th’ forest, yeah? Not that you heard it from me.”

Mattheo felt his cheeks redden as it was insinuated that even his teachers knew about his silly crush dear Merlin.

(He did file that bit of information away for later, though.)

~~~ You skipped through the woods, happy to take over your sister’s duty of feeding the creatures. You stopped in a clearing that looked like any other, making a beeline for a certain tree.

Mattheo carefully picked his way through the forest duff, staying an inconspicuous distance away from you. He winced every time a dry leaf or branch snapped under his boots, slowing down and peeking out from behind a row of trees at you.

You tapped on the tree’s bark, waiting patiently until a…creature, an odd, spindly, twig-shaped creature crawled out from a small hollow recess in the tree and onto the sleeve of your coat.

“Hello, little friend! How are you this lovely evening?” You spoke softly to the creature, but your voice carried far in the otherwise quiet forest.

Mattheo watched as you let the creature crawl all over you, holding out a handful of sunflower seeds for it as you rambled on and on about anything and everything.

All Mattheo could think of was:

Oh.

Damn.

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (XVII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Farewells and changes are on the horizon, as are unavoidable confrontations.

Part XVI / Part XVIII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this...

You don’t think you’ve ever sprinted so fast. As you clamber through the bleached doorway of the home, nearly scaring Asger out of his skin, you suddenly jolt to a stop. Luna peers from over your shoulder, clavicle pressed against your back as she tries to distinguish the cause of your rigidness. 

Slowly stepping inside, you feel your knees tremble as doubt begins to seep into your veins. Asger shoots you a concerned look before filling a glass up with water and disappearing into Regulus’ room. 

Luna carefully guides you to the table and you take a moment to lean against the beat wood. 

“Are you going to stay here?” Her airy words were free of judgment, tone light and even as if she were simply asking you what tea you preferred. You wordlessly nod, barely reacting when the girl pats your shoulders and skips after Asger. 

You run your fingers down your coat as hesitation nips at your nerves, a bubble of anxiety rippling through your chest and up into your throat. Hobbling steps echo distantly in your head, and you’re faintly aware of Anders’ approaching magic. 

“You okay, kid?” His voice was gruff, but colored with understanding. 

You hum quietly, still lost in your head. An unnerving silence roots itself in the room, and you hear Anders shift from leg to leg as he seems to grapple with himself for the right words. 

“Alright.” He huffs. 

You spin around and face the man, eyes widening at him before gluing to the open window across the room, “Alright? You don’t think I’m a coward?” 

Anders rolls his eyes and limps towards you, placing a rugged hand on your shoulder, “Hell you thinking that for?” He moves to sit down next to you, “You’re a lot of things kid, a coward ain’t one of ‘em. Besides, I would do the same.” 

Tilting your head, you swallow harshly as a prickly sensation wraps around your neck, “What do you mean?” 

“If my Anne were to walk through that door right now, I don’t even know what’d I do,” He shakes his head with a wry smile, “Isn’t it funny that you can wish for something so desperately, but the prospect of it actually happening…” 

“It’s unbelievable.” You add, watching as the man nods solemnly. You almost feel selfish for allowing your emotions to taunt you, knowing that you were being handed an ineffable opportunity that the man would kill for. 

Before you can say much else, Asger cracks open the door with a resounding creak, slowly padding out with an unreadable expression, “He’s asking for you.” 

Your eyes widen considerably at his words, and you turn to look at Anders for guidance. The older man simply jerks his head towards the door, eyes closing as an imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. He looked like he was making peace with something–but what?  

Slowly making your way towards the commodious room, you feel your skin buzz and numb, mouth drying up as you gradually sink into a pool of uncertainty. As you cross the threshold, eyes set on the floor, you feel Luna slink around you with a little pat to your back, leaving you both alone.

As the door closes behind you, you slowly raise your gaze up. 

“Hello, birdie.” Regulus’ smile is strained, as if he were pained, but his eyes are practically glowing under the light. He’s sitting up on the makeshift bed, arms resting in his lap as he slowly fiddles with the frays of the blanket. 

A sob tears through your throat, muddling your words into an incomprehensible blubber as you practically fly towards the boy, throwing yourself into his chest. Your tears were no doubt pooling through the thin fabric of his shirt, but the onslaught of searing emotion only continues to flare as you feel him wrap his arms around you.

His arms. It felt so foreign, but so safe. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him not being in a rectangular frame.

“It’s okay now, I’m here.” He whispers, hand running down your back as he soothes you. 

You shift in his arms and lift your head up, broad tear tracks clinging to your cheeks, “Reggie…you remember me?” If you weren’t so doped up on a tidal wave of emotions, you would have cringed at how thick your voice came out. 

The boy smiles at you softly before bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, “Wouldn’t be able to forget you even if I tried, love.” 

A burst of affection threatens to demolish all of your sense of propriety as you gaze up at the boy, eyes furiously darting around his face to memorialize the tender emotion that paints his eyes. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and tiredly huff, feeling him shiver under you as the cool air hits his neck. It’s only after the passing of a few beats of silence when you realize that you’re practically sprawled across his lap. 

Gaping momentarily at the mortification that shatters your euphoria, you slowly shuffle off of him, “Sorry, Reg.” 

The boy tilts his head in confusion before tightening his hold, gently guiding your head back onto his shoulder, “Nothing to apologize for, birdie.” 

You take a few moments to compose yourself, gently sniffling as your tears begin to cease in intensity, only occasional droplets cascading down. Nuzzling into Regulus’ shoulder unabashedly, your voice comes out a tad muffled, “So do you remember everything then?” 

The boy drops his cheek down atop your head, fingers drawing patterns on your hand as he hums, “It’s all a bit foggy, but I remember the vital things. Of course, the memories from when I was a portrait are more coherent than my childhood memories, but I’m mainly trying to remember how to articulate having a physical body.” 

“You’re not doing too bad.” You tease, a light smile playing on your lips. 

Regulus’ chest vibrates vaguely as he emits a small chuckle, “Oh?” The boy peers down at you before dropping his lips down to the top of your head. Your heart skips at the blatant show of affection, and you grow impossibly fonder of the boy. 

“Thank you for coming back to me.” You whisper softly. 

He slowly drops back into the capacious bed, drawing you down with him as he tucks you against his side, “Thank you for finding me…again.” 

You laugh airily and drop your hand on top of his, suppressing your fluster as he effortlessly weaves your fingers together. The both of you lay together in a comfortable silence, a sudden exhaustion weighing on your chest as you listened to the rhythmic beating of Regulus’ heart. 

You’re unsure of how much time has passed the next time you’re fully cognizant, eyes blinking rapidly to shake away the heaviness of your eyelids. It seems the lethargic state you were reduced to after your emotional reunion led you to a dreamless slumber. In your sleep, you practically glued yourself to Regulus, coming to a realization that the boy had somehow been shoved into the crook of your neck, now also in a peaceful drowse. 

Brushing his curls away from your cheek, you run your fingers along his spine lightly, nails dancing along the clothed plane of his back. At your movements, the boy stirs groggily, a throaty grumble interrupting the atmospheric silence of the room.

You tighten your hold on him and grin when he blearily opens his eyes, head shifting to chase after the warmth of your skin. 

“Morning, baby.” He whispers, nose nudging up against your jaw. His voice is scratchy and still marred by inklings of sleepiness, and you’re not entirely sure if he noticed the little pet name. 

You bite your lip to tame the blinding grin screaming to escape on your face, bringing your fingers to run against his scalp, “Actually, I think it’s nighttime.” 

Regulus huffs quietly against your neck, “Good, so let’s go back to sleep.” 

You hum and open your mouth to agree, but the rumbling of your stomach cuts through the air. Coughing lightly, you ignore the blazing embarrassment that pins itself in your chest, choosing to instead continue your movements.

Regulus nuzzles against you again before slowly detaching from you, raising himself on his elbows as he hovers over you. You could see the sleepiness fade away from his gaze, and you bring a hand up to tuck a curl behind his ear. 

“Let’s get you some food, birdie.” He mumbles, dropping down to peck your forehead. 

The boy sluggishly stretches as he practically rolls off the bed, arms raised above his head as he yawns. You smile and begin to flee the cozy confines of the blanket, readily moving away from the warmth to stick by Regulus. 

“Do you want some tea?” You ask, keeping a careful watch to make sure he wouldn’t promptly collapse into a weak heap of flesh and bones. Luckily, it seemed that the boy was gradually gaining strength. 

Slowly pulling the door open, you peer out into the bleak twilight illuminating the house and sigh when you see that the others aren’t around. As you make your way to the cupboards, hands deftly flying about to quickly make some tea for the both of you, you feel Regulus wrap his arms around you. 

“Look at us being bloody domestic.” He murmurs, knocking his head gently against yours. 

You feel the blood rushing through your ears as you direct all your energy towards making sure you don’t accidentally break anything, too overwhelmed by the affection. 

You clear your throat as you put the kettle on the stove, leaning back against the boy, “Not that I hate it, actually, quite the contrary, but I didn’t peg you as an affectionate person.” 

Regulus draws patterns on your arms as he muses, “Hm, ‘m usually not. Just for you, I suppose.” 

You were sure you were about to go into cardiac arrest, one hand flying up to make sure your heart wasn’t attempting to fly out of your chest. You turn around to face the boy, eyes wide with uncertainty, “Just me?” 

The boy looks back at you with an assured gaze, smiling dopily at you, “Yes, just you, birdie.” You mirror his smile and nod slowly, still unsure of what to say. 

Before either of you can escalate the situation further, the loud whistling of the kettle rings through the air, its shrill screeching causing you to flinch back. You muffle a laugh behind your hand and watch as Regulus blinks in disorientation for a moment, shooting a look of mock irritation at the steel instrument. 

“No, please continue,” a brassy voice rings out from behind you both. You peer around Regulus to see Asger giving you a stare laden with impassiveness. Smiling impishly at the unimpressed man, you simply avert your gaze to the kettle next to you before glancing back at him, “Tea?” 

As the breezy coat of nightfall loomed in the skies, you all decided to head out for a small trek to a pier nearby. Luna skips ahead of you and Regulus, leading your small group, as she scurries around to look for unique stones. Anders and Asger were trailing the three of you, both men walking in a comfortable silence. 

A crisp wave of wind soars through the air, dotting your nose with coolness. Regulus has his arm looped with yours, eyes drinking up the sight of the environment around you, shining in disbelief and awe. 

A flicker of sadness lingers in your heart as you ponder about how muddled everything must have seemed to him when he was a portrait, time gelling together into indistinguishability. You weren’t sure which fate was worse: becoming an inferi or being stuck as a portrait. 

The echoing of your footsteps on the wooden dock sound through the night with a woody hollowness, eyes trailing up the pier and towards the inky pool of water around you all. You feel Regulus tense beside you, and you stop in your tracks to study him. 

His eyes are glassy and unfocused as he stares into the darkness of the water, body rigid as an internal turmoil seems to paralyze him. You want to smack yourself over the head with a bludger — Regulus was uncomfortable with the murky surroundings because it was reminiscent of his demise. 

Tugging at his arm, you slowly guide him away from the dock, shaking your head when Anders glances at your retreating forms. Regulus slowly floats back down to you, eyes no longer as dim. 

“I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You mutter, hands reaching over to comfort him. The boy looks devastatingly vulnerable in his state, an anxious frown creeping up on his face. He had always been so strong for you, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t insusceptible.

He shakes his head and subconsciously leans towards you, arms slowly lifting up to wrap around your frame, “No, I didn’t even realize myself.” His voice is faint, seeming to be tucked away behind his brief panic. 

“Do you think you’re okay to travel, Reg?” You whisper, hands crawling up his shoulders to brush against his neck. The boy looks at you in confusion, but nods firmly. 

Sighing, your hands rest on either side of his face, thumbs swiping against his cheeks, “When I went back to the cave with Anders to retrieve you, we accidentally encountered Voldemort.” 

Regulus’ words nearly jumble together at the news and his mouth drops open, “You bumped into the Dark Lord?”

Grimacing at the wording, you shake your head, “Only briefly. He could only see me, but I’m apprehensive to stay here long. I don’t want to endanger the Fiskes.” 

“Where will we go?” He mumbles with furrowed eyebrows. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and divert your attention to the stars causing Regulus’ eyes to flicker around your face, “Birdie, what does that look mean?” 

Hesitating for a few moments, you consider all of your options before speaking. 

“Reg, maybe you’d be safer here,” you reluctantly voice, “I mean, where I’m thinking…it’s too hampered by uncertainties.” You frown, eyes meeting his gaze to try and implore him to see your reasoning. It was not an outlandish assumption in your eyes, as bringing him with you would mean answering inexorable questions and integrating him back into society amidst a full blown war. 

Regulus recoils as if you’ve slapped him, eyes wide with shock that rapidly bleeds into outrage, “You don’t actually think I’m letting you run off alone, right?” His voice is taut, bordering coldness, and you shakily exhale as your mind races. 

“You’re still recovering, Reg. Your magical core is still-” You begin to sputter, but Regulus shakes his head, and it has your words flushing away in a sweep of uncertainty. 

He shifts impossibly closer to you, eyes softening as he rubs your back, “I know that you’re concerned, birdie, but I want to be with you. I’m sorry that I got snippy with you right now, but this isn’t negotiable.” He frowns and leans over to nudge his nose against yours, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the world—wherever your heart desires, but I’m not leaving you to your lonesome when the Dark Lord is on your tail.” 

“If you come with me, it won’t be easy.” You breathe out. 

He smiles and tilts his head to the side, “All the more reason to follow you, then.” 

You assess him for a few moments before nodding, rolling your eyes playfully at the satisfied glint in his eyes, “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” 

Regulus hugs you to his body and muses, “Well, someone needs to keep your self-preservation in check.” 

As the stars slip away from the canvas of the sky to give room to the rising sun, you all gather inside the house, surrounding the dining table. You had to practically mandhandle Regulus into your usual seat as there weren’t enough chairs, but the boy only gave in once you compromised to share the seat with him. 

Luna periodically flashes the both of you grins, eyes shooting off through you as she tangles with visions of the future. Anders leans back in his chair to stare at Regulus, seeming to appraise his worthiness. Asger simply sips his tea and awaits for the conversation to ensue, humored eyes peering at you all over the rim of his cup. 

“Anders, I think that we should leave now,” you pause to clear your throat, “I don’t want to intrude and I hate the thought that I’m endangering you both, now that Voldemort is on my trail.” You word-vomit, hands fidgeting anxiously in your lap. 

Subtlety was not your forte. 

Regulus brings a steady hand to rest on your jittery ones as Anders grunts, “I understand, kid. You do know that we don’t mind though, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you when you don’t respond, “But I get it.” 

You breathe out in relief and straighten up in your seat, “Thank you, Anders, truly. This whole experience has been life changing to say the least, and I think I’m going to miss you both, honestly.” 

Both men meet your eyes steadily, and Asger breaks out into a small grin before placing his cup down, “I think we’ll miss you guys more, right Dad?” He turns to the older man, who merely grunts and looks away, but you would bet galleons that you saw a smile flash across his face. 

Anders slowly pushes himself up and walks off into his room, emerging moments later with a satisfied expression, “Here, kid.” You slowly rise up in confusion as Anders extends a stack of clipped papers towards you. 

“What?” 

The older man shakes his head and drops back down into his seat, “You didn’t think I’d actually publish someone else’s research, did you?” 

You hug the papers to your chest and gape at the man, “But, a lot of this is your research now. Besides, why would you…” You trail off, still boggled by a storm of perplexion. 

Anders waves you off and rubs his knee, “It's our research, kid. Anyway, I never intended to write it for myself in the first place, I’m much too old to get caught up in the academic world again.” He looks up at you with a proud sheen in his eyes, “Besides, you did most of the rune work and connection of theories. You better make something of yourself, yeah?” 

You are rendered speechless at the blatant display of care from him, and you find yourself wrapping the older man up in a hug before you can stop yourself. The man pats your back as you whisper hushed words of gratitude. 

You were practically holding your future in your hands. 

As the sun breaks over the veil of morning twilight, dispersing the ground of its mist and biting chill, you all stand at the edge of the village. It is bitterly nostalgic for you, mind flashing back to all those months ago when you stumbled upon Asger during the peak of night. 

Regulus stands back, now sporting one of Asger’s oversized corduroy jackets (a deep green, in slytherin fashion, and he looked offensively good in it). He watches as you and Luna say your final farewells to the father and son duo. Luna and Asger chat idly, with the older man patting the girl’s head fondly, smiling when she passes over a large blue stone to him. 

Turning away from the pair, you smile sadly at Anders, the older man already facing you with a calm expression, “Stay safe, kid. Tom won’t know what hit him.” 

You flash an assenting smile at him before stepping forward to give him one last hug. Closing your eyes, you are rendered inarticulate with poignance, “I’m gonna miss you, old man.” 

He pulls back and pats your shoulder reassuringly, “We’ll be alright, I think it’s time little old me did some soul searching.” 

Frowning in confusion, you lean back to ask, “How do you mean?” 

“Reine has treated us well all these years, but Asger and I were thinking of a change in scenery.” The man avows calmly. 

You step back and clutch the research papers tightly in your hands, “We’ll see each other again, right?” 

Asger swoops in and swings an arm over his father’s shoulders just as Luna bounces over to your side, hand clasping yours. The younger man grins at you brightly and inclines his head, “Who knows? We’ll be okay though,” he raises his head and his eyes grow serious, “but we want to thank you. You’ve given us a lot to think about, and I think it's time we celebrated my mother’s life instead of stewing in static.” 

You nod, mouth betraying just how sentimental you felt as it tugged into a frown, “Go well, both of you.” 

Anders cracks a small smile and they both wave you off. 

“Give him hell, kiddo.” 

“Take care of yourselves.” 

Wordlessly, you spin on your heel and walk towards Regulus with Luna in tow, the boy reaching towards you as you approach. In a blur, you’re interlacing your fingers with his and apparating away, the warping taking your mind away from any lingering sadness. 

As you touch down on smooth pavement, you feel Regulus shift closer to you, swaying ever so slightly on his feet. After steadying the boy, you turn to take in the sight in front of you — Zabini Manor. White pergolas embellished with thick grape vines curtaining the structure were erected serenely on the clipped lawn. Further back, winding balustrades, highlighted by Italian terracotta pots housing enormous clusters of begonias seemed to welcome you. 

The regal property towered over your figures, so much so that you all almost ignored the faint popping sound that echoed from next to you in favor of drinking up the sight. 

“Fiore be taking the Contessa’s guests to the parlor room.” 

You swivel around and face the house elf, nodding mutely as you’re all led inside. Regulus’ decorum is impeccable, years of etiquette lessons and pure blood preaching seeming to still be instilled in every joint of his body. Luna digs inside of her satchel all the way there and you hear vague clacking and shuffling from the bag. 

As the heavy wooden doors swing shut behind you, you feel your neck prickle with goosebumps as you release your magic, seeking out any familiar signatures. Your movements border robotic as you beeline to sit on one of the ottomans in the parlor, spacing out as you peer through the window and see rows of hydrangea bushes.  

It was time to face reality.

Regulus slowly traces shapes on the back of your hand as he glances around, no doubt comparing the furnishing to the dismal designs lining Grimmauld Place. 

“The brevity of peace is palpable these days, dear.” The euphonious voice breaches the threshold of the room before anything else, and you’re quick to school your face as the Contessa struts into the room, tobacco pipe clasped in one hand. 

You stand up and smile diminutively at the woman, “Contessa Zabini. Apologies for the intrusion.”

She sends you a sharp grin before taking her place on an ornate armchair, “No need for the pleasantries, my dear. I must say that you are rather better company than those friends of yours.” She takes a quick hit of her pipe, crossing one leg over the other. 

Masking your shock, you smile genuinely and shake your head, “I’m touched, Contessa. Which reminds me, I have failed to properly correspond with Blaise these past few months. I don’t suppose he’s tried to cajole those friends of mine for information?” 

The woman exhales a cloud of smoke and hums, “Ah yes, Blaise was quite disappointed from what I hear, but of course we both understood your precarious position.” 

“I’ll have to write to him soon, then. I assume that everything is well here?” You begin to fiddle with the corner of the papers in your lap, back aching minutely from your prim posture. 

The Contessa brings a hand to rest on her raised knee, eyes momentarily flickering towards Regulus as she smiles, “Quiet and uneventful, my dear. Now,” she tilts her head to gauge the sight in front of her, “I see that you’ve found a friend.” 

You could see the cogs whirring behind her eyes, mouth set into a thin line as something akin to familiarity seeps through the cracks of her expression. Nodding, you peer at the boy from the corner of your eye to observe his expression before replying, “Yes, he’s actually what I was referring to when I mentioned my personal interests.” 

The woman, to her credit, masks her brimming curiosity well, eyebrows raising as she mutely encourages you to continue. Regulus clears his throat quietly, “It’s a pleasure to make your company, Contessa Zabini.” 

The Contessa smiles pointedly at the boy and hums, “Well mannered…how interesting. The pleasure is all mine.” She places her pipe down on the round table next to her, eyes never straying from Regulus’ expressionless face, “Forgive me, but you look quite familiar, have we met before?” 

Regulus raises his eyebrows in show, “I do not believe so, I’ve been in recuperation for a number of years now.”

She doesn’t seem entirely convinced but turns back to you with a delighted smirk as she continues to address the boy next to you, “I see. I do hope to get your name then as it intrigues me that you have the ability to convert someone—who the public thought to be a staunch Dumbledore supporter, into a neutral ally.” 

Before either of you can respond, the doors practically burst off their hinges as they swing open. The thundering sound has you wincing from your spot, eyes immediately flying towards the source of the intrusion. Your mouth peels open at the sight of your friends and a very enthusiastic Sirius. 

Harry immediately beams as he catches sight of you, but his eyes grow as wide as saucers when he takes notice of the boy next to you. Hermione looks exhausted by the commotion around her, no doubt having mentally aged a significant amount in the time of her babysitting duties while you were away. Ron blinks owlishly at you, and waves hesitantly, posture shifty as he averts his gaze to assess the undisguised glower on the Contessa’s face. 

Luna jumps up from her seat and scurries over to greet the trio, her smile immediately drawing Harry’s attention away from you both. 

Sirius chuckles loudly as he stalks towards you, arms splayed wide open as he goes to hug you, “Pup, you’re finally here!” You quickly hug the older man back, bewildered by his ability to immediately get tunnel vision. 

As he draws back from you, your taciturn demeanor only heightens as you watch shock bloom across his face. The man springs back from you in a flash, eyes bulging out as he stammers for words at the sight of Regulus. The boy next to you gazes at his brother with regretful eyes, shoulders now sagging under the weight of the older man’s presence. 

The fraught silence is interrupted by a disbelieving whisper from Sirius, “Regulus?”  

“It’s good to see you, Siri.” 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc @shari-berri @mrs-billyrussooo @pandemicboredom @gojosbucket @brain-has-left @googie-jeon @lovely-maryj

[lexsssu]

Miracle (Dan Heng | Imbibitor Lunae)

TAGS: Dan Heng/Dragoness!Reader, smut, breeding, impregnation, some plot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Iɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ғɪɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ɪʀʀᴇsɪsᴛɪʙʟᴇ.

Despite being a long-lived species, the Vidyadhara are also cursed in a way. Unlike most other races, they can never have children of their own and are instead stuck in a seemingly endless loop of reincarnation.

When they die, they die for good. 

Because they die with no one to carry on their line or their memories aside from their own brethren, who will also face the same dilemma in time. 

Truly, they are as pitiful as those short-lived species whose lives are just like the blink of an eye for them. Or perhaps, even more so, because they can never experience the same happiness and fulfillment as those who can grow older and see their families grow and propagate. 

They are like stagnant water, no matter how much they pride themselves in their long lifespans. It can never fill the hole within them that yearns for the gift to create new life from their own bodies.

But then it happens.

“Congratulations! You’re going to become parents to a pair of very healthy babies!”

Dan Heng’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the doctor’s diagnosis, mouth wide open as he does his best to digest the impossible facts laid before you two. 

Despite all his years of living, even including his previous incarnations, none could have ever prepared him for this miracle .

No, it wasn’t just a miracle. It’s two miracles .

“Mommy’s vitals are looking very nice, but make sure she gets plenty of rest and takes these prenatal vitamins I’ll be prescribing. I’m looking forward to seeing you four very soon!”

It shouldn’t be surprising that the moment you leave the doctor’s office, Stelle and March 7th greet you both with a combination of cheers, tears, and jeers. From touching your still small belly to giving him sly grins and nudging him with their elbows, it’s obvious that both young women were happy for you two.

And although he’d long said his farewells to the Vidyadhara of the Xianzhou Luofu, he knows that his former kin will be given new hope with this earth-shattering news. 

Because that’s what his children are.

A symbol of both love and hope.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

When you reach your shared quarters, Dan Heng is already carrying you straight to bed as his nails elongate ever so slightly and begin slicing off your clothes, letting the fabric fall to the ground in tatters.

But with his mouth busy plundering yours, he merely swallows any complaints you might have had about your torn clothes.

Dan Heng is drunk on your taste and the knowledge that soon, your miraculous body will grow and change to accommodate his brood. The sight of your soft belly swelling as they grew and your breasts filling up with milk to nourish them once they’re born into the world has him harder than he’s ever been in any of his lives.

“'m so lucky…My miraculous little love,” his chest rumbles, reminiscent of a purr as he thrusts into your warm and welcoming cunt. “...keep your belly warm and full for our brood…”

With your tails wrapped around one another, your arms around his neck, legs locked on his narrow waist, you’re as close as two beings can ever be. 

And as your mouths met again and again, there is no denying that past the heat of lust and desire, there is love. 

Love that has grown, bore fruit, and will continuously grow for the rest of your lives together.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

☆There's No Place Like Home☆

《You are new to this... Neighborhood? Where the hell are you?》

Episode 2: Get To Know Know Your Neighbors

[Pilot] [1]

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @ partycoffin 》

-

Sick.

You felt sick after eating that cake. It tasted like pure sugar cane mixed with coffee creamer. The taste was sweeter than any treat you had eaten before.

Yet you don't utter a word about it to your plucky, so-called, "neighbors".

"Well, would you look at the time? It looks like it's late... Er. I think, but I gotta keep.. Unpacking? And I'm sure you all have plans of your own tomorrow."

You pick up the plates quickly, but some of the slices were barely picked at. Other plates are not even a spec of crumbs.

"Yes, of course!" Poppy said, hurriedly fluffing up her feathers in case of any stray pieces of dessert on her.

"Mhm, the post office isn't gonna' run itself." "Nor the bodega!" Howdy and Eddie laugh, Frank, chuckling off to the side.

"Yes, I gotta get some beauty sleep if I wanna dream big!" Sally agreed, pushing out her chair.

"Then I guess it's settled, we'll see you tomorrow, right neighbor?" Wally asks you. Dropping the plates in the sink, a few break on impact. Your hands try to pick up the broken pieces. But recoiled at the sight of your blood staining the fine china.

"Ye-yeah... Absolutely."

"Wonderful!" Julie cheers, coming up to your side by the sink.

"You must join me tomorrow! Your clothes are so odd! I've never seen a style quite like it. I would love it if we could dress up together!" The puppet chattered.

You nodded uncaringly, more focused on the cut on your palm.

"Groovy-..!"

A sharp gasp escapes Julie as Frank comes to her side.

"What... What is that?" Julie questioned you.

"Oh-... it's a cut. I hurt myself..."

"H-HURT! Who said hurt!?" Poppy stumbles near your side, her gaze softening as she asks if you were okay.

The other puppets now standing behind her, awkwardly trying to see your cut.

You hesitantly show the bird-puppet your palm, albeit shaken up by her. You thought she would bite your arm off with her beak.

Instead, she holds out her feathers, tenderly holding your arm.

Her expression turns into one of confusion. "That's odd..?"

"Wh-what??"

"There's only paint, I don't see any stuffing. Are you sure you are hurt?"

You, in turn, give her a puzzled look.

Had... Had these puppets never seen a human before? Much less a human being bleeding?

You take this as a good sign. Glad that these "puppets" didn't eat or have an appetite for humans or blood.

"Paint you say?" Frank bumps in, carefully analyzing your cut. He hums in thought, "Would you mind if I poked your cut?"

"No...Can I have a band-aid or something to close it up please?"

Frank nodded and backs off as Eddie hands you needle and a thread spool. "Here, found it by some of the boxes."

"Thanks..." You said, disregarding the puppets staring at you attentively as you place the items down. Saying you'll clean it up first.

You reassure them you'll be fine as you usher your "neighbors" to the door. Gladly holding the door open for them as they say their good byes and farewells.

Wally was the last one to leave, he smiles sleepily at you. You smile back at the tiniest puppet, feeling your mouth muscles twitch when keeping up the charade.

"I'll tell Home you said 'hello', good night. Neighbor."

-

[Taglist closed]

@tearjerker666 @trzppyghxuls @cookieswithay @luna-charlie @isometimeswritestuff @kazi-pop @lightspectre-universe @jjowithastar @smilingfox22-blog @jayysnotjoyful @cadaverous-coop @heather-hutchcroft @camilo-uwu @sweetheartturtle2007 @welcomehome102 @pretty-please-just-let-me-sleep @wally-darling-hyperfixation @q1bli @rainingdandelion @anima-chara @tearjerker666 @aceduchessdragoness @sleepy-planet @pauldanosbandonedirection222 @thelittlexd11 @luna-charlie

-

[Dun-dun-dun!!! Sorry I took so long to update! I've been writing a lot of Welcome Home Oneshots. Comments, art, always help! Thanks for reading!]

[technoblade-updates]

In memoriam: Technoblade

This post is a memorial to Technoblade, the man this blog was dedicated to. He was an amazing guy, one of the funniest, wittiest and kindest people in our community. He improved the lives of so many of us just by being himself and I will forever be grateful that he shared himself with us. As I am sure many of you are grateful as well.

My condolences go out to his family, who lost an amazing and talented son and brother.

My condolences go out to his friends, who lost a kind, genuine, hilarious and accepting friend and, in some cases, sleepily acquired family member.

My condolences go out to his fans and community, who lost an amazing entertainer, role model and someone who could brighten their mood with just a word, or a laugh, or a “HEH?!”

This paragraph links to a memorial collection of farewell messages from his friends, CCs that knew him, CCs that knew of him, the Hypixel staff and his mods.

This paragraph links to a memorial of messages from fans, which you can add to, if you so wish. Messages will be added onto this memorial by me, Mod Luna, in order to prevent potential griefing, vandalism, or inappropriate behaviour on the memorial. This is not connected to the Hypixel Memorial collection.

You can submit a memorial message here.

You can donate to the Sarcoma Foundation of America in Techno’s name here.

I’m sending you guys all my love and support. Stay strong, keep your heads up, kings and Blood for The Blood God. May he Rest in Peace and May his Memory be a Blessing. Technoblade Never Dies in Our Hearts.

- Mod Luna (@dracolunae @antarctic-empires)

[mer-een]

Final Fantasy XV - art history meta

a symbol of romanticism: sylleblossom - the blue flower:

final fantasy xv's sylleblossom has a very special design and meaning. Let's talk about what it stands for and how it can be connected to art history.

More below the cut.

Luna and sylleblossoms

In general, blue sylleblossoms can be seen as a symbol for Luna in ffxv. They grow in Tenebrae and are its national flower, she has a garden full of them. Blue sylleblossoms are her favorite flowers. She gifts Noctis a pressed flower in their notebook and it is a strong visual symbol in her death scene. According to the final fantasy wiki: "Different color variants symbolize different things, but the blue version represents "a heart that does not give up" and "sincerity"." But there might be even more to it.

The blue flower and romanticism

The blue flower is considered an important symbol in art history, and especially of romanticism, an art movement of the 19th Century. It represents the romantic longing for the unattainable and unreachable, the infinite and the unconditional, it is also often interpreted as a connection between man and nature. In addition, the Blue Flower developed into a symbol of wandering, which is also characteristic of the Romantic era (and a main theme in ffxv too :) - the word wanderlust got its meaning in the Romantic Period btw). This motif can be traced back to an old German legend that says that one could find the blue miracle flower at night and would be richly rewarded. Consequently, this miracle flower represents a cause that is difficult to achieve, but longed for by many.

Here's a cornflower as an example. I painted a sylleblossom recently and noticed the similar petal shape and color.

The legend

The symbol goes back to a legend and the poet Novalis. The blue flower embodies the longing for an unattainable thing. In the story, a young man dreams about a blue flower that calls to him and he longs to find it. When he finally sees it, he sees a tender face in the flower. This - as is shown in the course of the story - is that of his later fiancé. In addition, the text teems with symbols typical of romanticism. In romantic works, threshold motifs are often used, i.e. motifs that mark a boundary between reality and the dreamlike, such as twilight, moonlight, or the view into the distance, which is usually carried by an enormous longing of the protagonist.

Noctis and Luna

When we look at Noctis and Luna's relationship, we can find a lot of these motifs. The longing, the wandering and looking into the distance. Luna seems always out of reach but they long to be together. We see Noctis looking at the moon in old previews and when Luna says farewell she tells him to "look to the distance, know that I am there". Even their names represent typical romantic symbols (night and moon).

Night and moon are also typical subjects in romanticism. I really like the similarities here between the official artwork of the ffxv piano collection and the painting by C.D. Friedrich.

Luna's death

Here's a screenshot of the dreamlike death sequence and another painting by C.D. Friedrich, who is one of the most recognizable Romantic painters.

One more interesting thing I'd like to point out is the topic of death in romantic paintings and Luna's death scene. I think it's interesting that you can see ruins and a gate behind Luna. It looks like Tenebrae or maybe Altissia but the gate behind her stands out. In romantic artworks, ruins can stand for the past and especially gates represent the transition into the afterlife. We can find several threshold motifs in this scene. In ffxv, it might show that Luna and Noct are inbetween the world of the living and the dead in that moment. Luna then goes into the afterlife (in the direction of the gate) while Noctis is pulled back into life.

The flower turns into the ring, which shows us that her calling has been fulfilled.

I'm not sure if the references about the romantic movement in ffxv were intentional or not, but in any case it was fun to think about it :). I hope you enjoyed this short meta analysis and look into some art history :)

[sev-on-kamino]

HIYA SEV!!! big congrats on the milestone!! feeling super proud and having lots of mushy feels for you my love! 🫶

okay now down to the business

clone: kix 🥹 (been on a kix fix recently)

color: pastel-y blue

time of day: evening, right when the sun disappears behind the horizon but it’s still light out, everything is calm and beautiful (my fav time of day)

nsfw or sfw, you decide! wherever your beautiful brain takes you!

much love 💕

hello there, h!!! thank you so much, and all the mushy feels back at ya 🥹🫶 I was mad nervous about this one because a) I want to make something super awesome for you, and b) Kix is my challenge clone 😅 But then I pulled up my Kix playlist, and this song jumped out and said “it’s my time to shine!!!”

so this was written to “Horizon” by Luna Blake

I hope you enjoy it 💙💙

warnings: oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, no pronouns, no physical descriptions, reader is wearing a skirt

As much as you loved your boys, you’d wandered off during shore leave to enjoy some time alone with your thoughts while the sun slowly merged with the horizon, giving you time to catch your breath and pretend things were like they were before when every day ended with the soft glow of the sun’s retreat and not the hum of the Resolute’s hyperdrive.

The sun had completed its daily farewell when Kix found you on the roof of the barracks, wrapping his arms around you from behind, as he greeted you with a soft kiss pressed to your temple, draping the soft blue blanket from your bunk over your shoulders, and you released the breath you’d been holding without realizing it, as you melted against his chest before turning slowly and looking up to see the way the fading light danced in his amber eyes.

He smiled softly at you, asking what was going on in that brilliant head of yours before taking a few guesses, ones that were obviously silly to make you laugh, some that were close, but none that were exact, so you put him out of his misery and told him you were thinking of before, but before didn’t have him, so it wasn’t a time you’d ever choose, which caused several emotions to flash across his face, sadness, hope, love before settling on the unspoken devotion that usually graced his features when he looked at you.

With that settled, the pair of you moved simultaneously, bringing your lips together decisively, a chorus of hums and wordless requests for more swirling in the air around the two of you, as Kix’s hands slid beneath your shirt, pulling your body up against his, and you were as pliant as ever at his touch, which made it clear that you belonged to him just as surely as he belonged to you, and that was his favorite part, belonging to and with you.

Kix allowed one of his hands to slide down your back and over your ass to lift the hem of your skirt, hooking his thumb into the waistband of your panties, he pushed them down, and he began kissing his way down your neck, and over your chest, as he sank to his knees in front of you, encouraging you to step out of your panties before tucking them into his pocket.

His hands smoothed their way up your legs, lifting one of them to rest over his shoulder, leaving you completely exposed to him, which made him lick his lips in anticipation before he turned his head to brush his lips over the delicate skin of your inner thigh, biting down and sucking gently to leave his mark while you moaned above him, running your fingers over his intricate buzz cut, tracing the lines before gently guiding his face to your aching, wet core, and he complied gladly, shifting slightly on his knees as his cock pressed insistently against his codpiece.

Kix ran his tongue through your velvety folds, circling your entrance before pressing two of his fingers inside of you while he licked his way up to your clit, his free hand gripped your thigh tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out, brushing over the devastating place inside of you that made you rock your hips into his face, and he refused to let up even after his name fell from your lips in ecstasy, as your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to lay you down and listen to your beautiful sounds the rest of the night.

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @moon-wrecked @starqueensthings