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wolfhardxmoon · 3 months ago

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Paris, Texas

Pairing - Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Word Count - 19534 [2 to 3 hours of reading time - depending]

Content Warning - Slow burn Angst, Unrequited love, Pining!Reader, Being taken for granted

Summary - Loving someone they way you want to be loved, doesn't always mean you will be loved the same way back

A.N. - Writing this whenever I got the chance (which also the same days that I don't speak a word of English). Thanks to ChatGPT for making this readable. Also dividers by @firefly-graphics

Poll Results: Literally everyone said to post this "now" (as in 4 days ago "now") but I ended up working 38 hours at my part-time since then so I apologise. Also this was also redrafted about 7 times because I wanted a realistic ending.

Enjoy! <3 (commenting and reblogging feeds my inner gremlin)

Wizards slowly began adopting Muggle holidays sometime around the 18th century. Those living in London found themselves enjoying each little tradition, each celebration the Muggles offered.

Valentine’s Day was one of the latest fads in the British-wizarding forums. Some had said a big-time French socialite had apparently introduced the tradition to his British amour, and since then, the excitement spread through the grapevine. From gifting beautiful, forever-blooming flowers to your beloved, to others frantically checking their Chocolate Frogs were not spiked with Amortentia — young wizards started basking in the celebration of young love (or platonic love for some).

Everyone, except you.

Classmates, dorm mates, and even your own best friends — Joycelin Sweeting and Astoria Greengrass — were ecstatic over the festivities. They had dragged you each weekend leading up to the big day to Hogsmeade and even trekked up to Diagon Alley for the perfect presents for their other halves. You were happy for them.

Truly.

They both had that beautiful twinkle in their eyes — and even though they were the most bubbly, fun-loving duo, you were almost 100% sure that their pupils turned into literal love hearts around their respective partners. Their hair was always curly or wavy (you had read in some book in the library that the magic surrounding a girl in love made their hair wavy for some reason), and their cheeks ached and flushed red with blush. You promised you were happy for them.

You had promised you were fine, telling Astoria to go on her date and reassuring Joycelin that you had more than enough on your plate. (That was a lie.)

The sun had barely risen but the time you sat in the Great Hall, the low chatter of students around you creating a hum that felt more distant than comforting. The flickering candles overhead cast shadows that danced lazily across the table, but you could not focus on the warmth. You felt the coldness inside you, a familiar emptiness that had settled in your chest ever since things had started to change. You could not help feeling sorry for yourself. Sitting here, on the morning of Valentine’s Day, seemingly the only student sitting alone. The dining hall was already quiet as it was, with many students opting for more romantic settings.

Your eyes flickered to the Slytherin table, your gaze inevitably falling on Theodore. He was there, of course, just like he always was, wrapped up in the world he had created around himself. The world that no longer seemed to have much space for you.

You could feel the ache settle into your bones, a quiet reminder of everything that had gone wrong—or seemingly, what seem to have disappeared over the winter break. It was not that he did not notice you; it was that he seemed to look through you these days. Every time you tried to get close, tried to bridge the growing chasm between the two of you, he had backed away, like you were not worth the effort.

And that was it. You were not worth the effort.

Theodore’s eyes did not meet yours now, and you were not sure if it was out of avoidance or simple disinterest. He had the same nonchalant air about him, speaking to the people around him in a tone that was not sharp, but cold enough to make you feel it in your gut. His friends, his fellow Slytherins, hung on the few words he said, laughing and teasing with ease. They did not know the quiet pain you felt just from being in the same room with him.

You turned your attention back to your plate, pushing food around without really touching it. The silence between you and him had become more deafening with each passing day. You tried to ignore it, to accept that it was what it was, but that did not stop the small part of you, the part that still hoped, from holding on.

A sharp pang of disappointment twisted in your chest as you watched a few girls from the other end of the table approach Theodore. Their laughter rang in the air, a sound that was light and carefree, like the weight of everything was irrelevant. You knew how they looked at him. You had seen it before. He was everything they admired—charming in a nonchalant type of way, and, for every reason you had been drawn to him in the first place, they couldn’t get enough of him.

A wave of frustration washed over you. You wanted to get up, leave this place where you felt so invisible, but the more you tried to retreat into yourself, the more desperate you were for Theodore to reach out for you.

But just as you were about to turn back to your breakfast, a voice broke through the quiet hum of the hall, this one different — more polite and genuinely warm.

Theodore was halfway through taking a bite of his toast when a voice rang out, light and sweet, carrying through the quiet of the hall, uninvited and unwelcome. “Theo, you are coming to the party tonight, aren’t you?”

The girl who spoke was one of those faces you often saw in the Slytherin corridor but never paid much attention to. A pleasant sort of girl, pretty enough, but always with a crowd. She had the kind of attention that came effortlessly, like a polished stone that had been smoothed by years of admiration. Her soft blonde curls bounced around her face as she leaned toward Theodore, her eyes wide with the warmth of something unfamiliar to you, something that felt a little too bright, too alive.

Her voice, though melodic, carried a subtle undertone of expectation. “It’s going to be fun,” she added with a smile, drawing the words out as though she was fishing for an answer. She did not care about the casualness of the conversation; she knew exactly what she was doing. Her fingers brushed lightly against Theodore’s sleeve as she spoke, and you could almost see the way her confidence bloomed in the space between them, wrapping around him as if they were already connected.

Theodore looked up slowly, his gaze flicking toward her, but the moment his eyes met hers, he seemed to settle into a practiced nonchalance. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was not the kind that reached his eyes. He gave a slight nod, still not meeting your gaze. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he replied, his voice cool and flat, the same as it always was these days. Detached.

The girl beamed, as if the words were all she had wanted, but before she turned to go, she finally, almost reluctantly, glanced your way. Her eyes lingered on you for the briefest moment, as if she just remembered you were there, as if you had somehow faded into the background of the conversation she had been having with Theodore. It was not an unkind look, just distant — as though acknowledging your presence now was an afterthought.

“Oh,” she said, the pitch of her voice softening just a touch. “What about...” She slowly turned her head to your table. Her smile was kind, but it lacked warmth, like a perfunctory gesture more than a genuine inquiry.

You blinked, suddenly aware of the space between you and Theodore. The hall became so much larger than you had imagined, yet feeling narrower and overwhelming at the same time. You wanted him to say yes—better yet, walk down that endless hall to ask for your opinion. But you were also terrified. You did not want to admit that the very thought of being around people, of pretending to be something you were not, made your chest tighten. At this point, there was no telling what kind of relationship existed between you both. Your thoughts were swarming you these past couple of weeks— with one that had been quietly overcoming your mind for weeks, months now. You wanted to be seen— wanted to be wanted, even if just for a fleeting moment.

But before you could speak, Theodore’s voice cut through the tension, his words sharper than usual. “You know her,” he said, his tone distant and dismissive, “she’s not really a party person.”

And just like that, the words sank into your skin, prickling with discomfort. It was not a lie, not exactly, but it felt wrong. There was a bitter edge to it, something unspoken that settled over the dining hall like a growing storm. You were not a party person, no. But that was not the real reason you’d rather stay away. The truth was more complicated, more suffocating, and Theodore was too busy with his own distractions to notice.

The girl smiled again, this time with a hint of pity that stung more than it comforted. “I see,” she said, her voice dipping into something softer, almost apologetic, but you could see the beginnings of a smile on her lips. “I mean, no matter- we can always have fun for her. Right?”

She turned on her heel, slipping into the crowd of students with ease, leaving you in the quiet bubble of awkwardness that you had somehow found yourself in. The weight of his dismissal hung heavy in the air, suffocating you, even though he was not looking at you. His focus had already shifted to his friends, already lost in the rhythm of the day, and you felt the distance between you grow even wider.

You could not help but glance at him again, watching him talk to the group of Slytherins across the table, his face set in a way that looked practiced, familiar. His eyes never once flickered toward you. The indifference stung more than anything. He had done this before, turned his attention elsewhere, as if you were no longer worth the effort.

There was a knot in your stomach, tight and unyielding. It was hard to breathe around it, but you did not dare let it show. You did not dare let anyone see how much it hurt.

You knew better than to try and get his attention, though. You had learned long ago that when Theodore was not looking at you, nothing you did would change it. So you turned your gaze back to your untouched plate, pushing the remaining food around as if it could give you something to focus on, something to fill the hollow space.

The longer you sat there, the heavier the weight in your chest became — suffocating, relentless. The pitying look from that girl lingered in your mind, curling uncomfortably around your thoughts. It was not just the way she’d glanced at you like an afterthought — it was how right Theodore’s words had felt, how easily they’d seemed to confirm something you’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

You are not really a party person.

The words repeated in your head, twisting and distorting until they felt less like a passing comment and more like some unspoken truth — one you could not shake. It was not just that you did not belong at parties. It felt like you did not belong anywhere. Not with your friends, who had drifted into their own little worlds of whispered conversations and excited plans. Not with Theodore, who barely looked at you anymore — and if he did, it was only to find some way to push you further away.

And it was your own fault, was it not?

Your friends had tried — really tried — to keep you close. Joycelin and Aliwyn had spent weeks begging you to come with them — to Hogsmeade, to the common room, even just to sit with them in the Great Hall. They had coaxed you with warm smiles and reassurances that you’d have fun, but you never did. You could never quite shake the feeling that you were just… there. A shadow lingering behind them, dulling the brightness of their excitement.

It had reached the point where you almost felt guilty for saying yes — because each time you did, you could see it in their eyes. That flicker of hesitation, that subtle change in the air when you sat beside them. As though they were quietly waiting for you to dampen the mood.

You knew they loved you — you knew that. But sometimes love was not enough to stop you from feeling like a burden.

You wondered when it had happened — when you had become this person. The one who sat quietly at the edge of things, watching her friends smile and laugh from somewhere she could no longer reach. The one who had once been so full of warmth, now cold and withdrawn, retreating deeper into herself with each passing day.

It was not that you did not want to fight for what you once had — for Theodore, for your friends, for yourself. It was that you did not know how.

Because the truth was, you were tired — tired of trying to pretend that you were fine, tired of convincing yourself that this hollow feeling was not swallowing you whole. And most of all, you were tired of caring so much when it felt like no one seemed to care about you.

A dull ache settled behind your eyes, and you swallowed hard, blinking quickly to push the feeling down. You did not have the energy to fall apart — not here, not now. Instead, you kept your head low, eyes fixed on your plate as you tried to shrink into the silence, as if that might somehow make everything hurt a little less.

Just as you were about to sink back into your own thoughts, another voice broke through the fog of disappointment. The sudden shift in tone was enough to catch you off guard.

“Excuse me, are you… Y/N, right?”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts. You blink, not expecting to hear anyone speaking to you. When you look up, you are met with a pair of eyes. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, seem to gleam with an unexpected warmth. He stands there, leaning casually against the bench, his posture effortlessly confident. His dark hair, not quite as dark as Theodore’s but with a similar tousled quality, seems to catch the light in all the right places, and you can tell it’s the sort of hair that naturally falls into place, no matter what.

Adrien Delacroix.

His features are distinctively sharp, but there is a softness to them, too. He has a smile that feels almost practiced, easy, as if it is a shield he is worn a thousand times. His bone structure is different from Theodore’s—more delicate, with high cheekbones and a straight nose that seems to be chiseled perfectly. He’s stood there, looking down at you with an easy smile that barely hides his curiosity. He is tall—definitely taller than most guys in your year—and his gaze is steady, almost like he’s trying to read you.

The thought hits you immediately, almost involuntarily. What does he want?

You manage a quiet nod. “Uh… yeah. That’s me.”

You blink again, not sure what to say next, but Adrien doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation. You hate how small your voice sounds, especially compared to Adrien’s friendly tone. You immediately wish you could say something more—something to make this interaction feel less awkward, but your words feel like they’re stuck somewhere deep in your chest.

“I thought I… ah…” He pauses briefly, brow creasing as he searches for the right word. “Reconnu — recognised you,” he corrects himself, his accent curling softly around the syllables. He leans casually against the table, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’m in a couple of your classes, and I’ve seen you around… but I’ve never had the chance to actually talk to you.”

He pauses for a moment, his hand lifting to push a strand of dark hair behind his ear with the same effortless grace that seems to define him. The way his accent lingers, slightly melodic and smooth as it dances in his words, makes you feel different. There’s something about him that feels different, refined—but not in an obvious, boastful way. Just in the way he holds himself, the subtle lift of his chin, the quiet confidence that lingers even in the simplest gestures.

“History of Magic, right?” Adrien asks, as if pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’ve been in my class the last few weeks… I think I sit behind you.”

Your heart beats a little faster, and a flush creeps up your neck. Adrien notices, a quick flash of amusement crossing his face, but he does not make a big deal out of it.

You force a smile, nervous and unsure. “I dunno… I sleep through most of it.”

His lips twitch as he laughs softly, his voice rich, and the sound catches you off guard. “Vraiment? Really?” he says, his grin widening. “You should definitely stay awake. It’s fascinating stuff.” His tone is teasing, but there’s something more in his eyes — something that almost makes you wonder if he’s being sincere.

“I—I’ll try,” you murmur, pulling your sleeves down further, hiding your hands in the folds of your robes. You are not used to this, not used to being noticed like this. Especially not by someone like Adrien, who seems to draw people’s attention without even trying.

You cannot help but notice the way his eyes linger on you for just a moment too long before he blinks and looks away. It’s a small thing, but it sends your heart racing, and you cannot figure out why.

He leans in slightly, his voice lowering a little. “You’ve got that quiet thing going on… makes you seem a bit… mystérieuse.” His lips twitch with a small smile. “It’s cute.”

The words hit you like a shockwave. Cute. The simplicity of it, the way it feels like a compliment that doesn’t carry any weight behind it, makes your chest tighten. It’s not an insult, but something about it makes you feel exposed, like you don’t deserve the attention he’s giving you. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone who could be “cute,” not the way the other girls are. You’ve spent so long hiding in the shadows, and now someone like Adrien is standing in front of you, treating you like you are someone worth noticing.

You do not know how to respond, so you just nod, suddenly feeling even more awkward. You can’t help it, your mind races with the thought that maybe he’s just being polite. Or maybe he’s just like the others who like to talk to you out of some weird obligation before moving on to something—or someone—else.

Adrien tilts his head, and for a moment, you are not sure if he’s trying to figure you out or if he’s just watching you. His lips twitch into a smile again, this time a little more knowing. “Well, if you ever need someone to keep you awake in History of Magic, I’m happy to help.”

You try not to smile, but the way his gaze lingers on you, the way he speaks, it’s hard not to. He seems genuine, yet you wonder how much of that is just the way he is—easy, charming, and unbothered.

“Or maybe we could catch up on what you’ve missed in the library?” He smiles, “I noticed you usually run off there as soon as Binns finishes.”

You shift slightly, the discomfort rising in your stomach. “I don’t usually spend much time in the library,” you say, almost apologetically, though you know it’s not entirely true. You’ve been there often, especially in the past few weeks, lingering in corners, trying to lose yourself in the quiet. You’ve seen Adrien there before, too, always focused, always absorbed in his reading. But you don’t mention that. It feels too intimate somehow, like acknowledging his presence would make this interaction even more real.

Adrien’s eyes soften as if he can see through your discomfort. He doesn’t push, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s actually paying attention to you—or just looking for something to fill the silence. He shifts, stepping a little closer, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

“I get that,” he says, his smile growing a little more genuine. “Hogwarts can be… eh… accablant… too much, no?” He chuckles softly. “I’ve only been here a little while, and I’m still figuring out where everything is.” His words are easy, his tone casual, like he’s trying to make you feel less out of place. You can tell he’s trying to make this conversation feel natural, but you can’t help but feel like you are failing at being natural, like every word that leaves your mouth is a stilted attempt to keep up.

You want to say something, to let him in, but the words feel wrong. Why is he even talking to me? You want to scream it, want to ask him why someone like him—who clearly fits in with all the bright, shiny faces at Hogwarts—would want to talk to someone like you. You are used to being on the outside, used to standing in the back while others take the spotlight. And here is Adrien, offering you a sliver of attention like it’s no big deal. You don’t know what to make of it.

But then he continues, his voice slipping back into that light, teasing tone. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, actually. I just didn’t know how to approach you though—thought it might be best find away to do it differently…”

You freeze, caught off guard by the statement. Differently? It feels like a compliment, but it also feels like a judgment. You never meant to be unreachable. Is he saying I’m weird? You can’t stop the flash of insecurity that rises in your chest. You are not sure whether to thank him for the words or shrink away in embarrassment. You barely know him, yet somehow, his words feel like they’ve carved into you in ways you are not ready for.

“Hey — I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Adrien adds, as though sensing the shift in the air. “I just thought… maybe we could hang out sometime? I mean, I’ve seen you around, and you don’t seem like the type to just…” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly as he mutters, “Comment on dit… ah…” His fingers drum lightly on the table as he thinks. “Go with the flow?,” he finishes, a little unsure but still smiling. “You seem… hmm… like someone who thinks for herself. I thought it’d be nice to get to know you.”

The offer feels too big, too much for someone like you to take in, like a question you are not sure you are allowed to answer. You want to say no, to tell him it’s fine and you are used to being alone, but there’s a small part of you that wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s being honest.

Before you can figure out what to say, Adrien’s smile softens, and he steps back, giving you a little more space. “I’ll see you around then?” His voice is lighter, not pushing, but still there, lingering.

You sit there, watching him walk away, still unsure whether his invitation was just a formality, something said to pass the time, or if he genuinely meant it. You don’t know. You don’t know him, not really, but the thought of being wanted, of being seen by someone like him, leaves you feeling both lighter and heavier all at once.

You can’t shake the comparison in your mind—the way Theodore’s presence always felt heavy, like there was something between you that you could not name. But with Adrien, it’s different. He’s easy. He doesn’t feel like a storm waiting to happen, like Theodore did. And yet, you feel unsettled, unsure if you should let yourself enjoy this attention.

But why would someone like him be interested in someone like me? You can’t shake the doubt, the feeling that this is all too good to be true.

The first few days after Adrien introduced himself passed with little fanfare. You found yourself thinking back to his words, but they felt like little more than a fleeting moment in the midst of your usual routine. School was still a whirlwind—lessons, assignments, and the ever-present hum of your friends dragging you along, their chatter and laughter filling up the corners of your days. You barely had time to notice the absence of anything new.

It was only in the quieter moments, when you found yourself alone with your thoughts, that Adrien’s voice would drift back into your mind. “It was nice talking to you.”

You weren’t sure why it lingered. He’d said it casually, a throwaway comment as if it was no different from any other greeting. But it was different. You weren’t used to being treated like that. It was a small thing, but in a life that had felt so filled with noise and obligation, it felt like a small light. Yet you pushed it aside. You didn’t know him. He was a stranger, no matter how pleasant.

Days passed, and you carried on as usual. You caught glimpses of him in the halls occasionally, but he never approached you again. You hadn’t expected him to, really. And you didn’t know what you would have done if he had.

But then, a few days later, you were walking down the corridor on your way to the library, a pile of books pressed tightly against your chest. You had your mind on your homework and what you had left to do that afternoon.

As you passed a corner near the library’s entrance, you nearly collided with someone. You glanced up, startled, and there he was—Adrien, his warm eyes locking onto yours as though he’d been expecting to see you. He stepped back just in time, allowing you to continue walking.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hi,” you answered, a little caught off guard, though you couldn’t quite place why. His smile was warm, genuine, and it did something strange to your heart—a soft flutter that you quickly buried under a sense of confusion. Why did it feel different when he smiled at you?

“I was actually heading to the library, too,” Adrien continued, his words stumbling slightly before he found the right phrasing. “I… uh… if you, uh, don’t mind, maybe I could… walk with you?”

His words came out with a slight hesitation, but his smile remained steady. You caught a soft ‘D’accord’ under his breath, as if he had been about to say something before stopping himself.

You didn’t answer immediately, unsure why it felt so difficult. But then you just shrugged. What harm could it do? It wasn’t like you had to say yes, but his offer felt casual enough—so you nodded.

“Sure, why not.”

The walk wasn’t long. You had a few moments of awkward silence, your footsteps echoing slightly in the hallway. But Adrien didn’t seem bothered by it. He didn’t try to fill the silence with pointless chatter, as some people would. He just walked beside you, the occasional glance in your direction almost like an invitation to speak, but never pushing for it.

When you arrived at the library, you felt an odd sense of… expectation. But why? You weren’t sure, and you couldn’t figure it out. He hadn’t even asked to sit with you. And yet, when you found a quiet corner, Adrien dropped down across from you with a casual air, pulling out a few books from his bag. You didn’t speak much at first, but the way he settled next to you, not intruding on your space but in a way that made you aware of him, was somehow comforting.

You focused on your work, but there were moments when you found yourself glancing up at him. His eyes were always so soft, always paying attention to the books in front of him, but you could tell that sometimes he looked at you, too. It was subtle, but it was there. He was careful, though, and never pressed you. You never felt like you were being watched. But there was something there, something unspoken.

It wasn’t like you’d thought anything would happen, but somehow, you felt a little lighter in the moments you shared with him, even if they were silent. You told yourself it was just the solitude of the library making it feel that way, nothing more.

The next few days followed a similar rhythm. Adrien continued to show up, not in an overwhelming way, but in the way of someone who was content with simply sharing space. You’d find him walking beside you in the halls, or—more often than not—he’d be sitting across from you in the library, quietly reading. Some days, he’d nod in your direction, offering a small, knowing smile. Other times, he would remain absorbed in his books, but you’d catch a glance his way, and his eyes would flicker toward yours before he quickly returned to what he was doing.

You still didn’t know how to feel about it. You weren’t used to the attention. It wasn’t anything grand or demanding, and maybe that’s why it unsettled you. Maybe it felt too easy. And maybe that was why you kept waiting for the moment it would end—waiting for the point where you’d both go your separate ways, like you always had before.

But that moment didn’t come.

A week passed, then two. Adrien didn’t disappear, but his presence began to feel familiar. Not in a bad way, but in the way that something small can slowly start to settle into your life without you quite realising it. You found yourself moving through your days in that strange mix of normalcy and anticipation.

By the third week, he’d started sitting next to you before you even had a chance to settle in. No longer waiting for an invitation, he simply dropped down next to you, book in hand. The quiet exchanges—small smiles, the soft rustle of pages turning—began to feel almost like a routine. Not something you had to think about.

And then, one day, he spoke up as you were gathering your things.

“I was thinking of going outside to study today,” Adrien said, looking at you as if the question were almost an afterthought. “Would you like to join me? The grounds look quieter with it being a little colder, no?”

You blinked, a little thrown off by the suggestion. You’d never thought of studying outdoors, especially when it was getting colder, but you couldn’t help but feel the soft pull of the invitation. There was something about the way he asked—it wasn’t pressure. It wasn’t forceful. It was simply an offer, the kind of offer you didn’t often get. No one had ever asked you to just be there, to sit in the open air and study without some ulterior motive.

“Uhm… yeah, sure,” you said, almost before you thought about it.

Adrien gave you a soft smile in response, and you noticed the faintest ‘Merci’ slip from his lips, as though he was thankful you’d agreed.

You couldn’t help but notice how your heart beat a little faster as you walked with him to the grounds, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your shoes, the crispness of the air making your breath visible in the autumn light. Adrien didn’t speak much during the walk, but there was an ease to it. A peaceful silence that you didn’t mind. You sat together on the grass, your books spread out in front of you, and for a few moments, the world just… slowed down.

The next few weeks felt much the same—slow, but different in a way that you couldn’t quite explain. You and Adrien started meeting more often, sometimes in the common room, other times out by the grounds. Conversations that had once felt awkward or forced now came more naturally. You weren’t always talking, but there was a sense of comfort in simply being near him.

You also started to notice the little things. Sometimes, when you were walking to class, Adrien would fall in step beside you. And not just to the library or the grounds, but even to places you didn’t have class together. You found yourself looking up, seeing his warm smile as he walked with you—just there, beside you. It wasn’t a big gesture, but there was something so simple and steady about it. You didn’t have to ask. He was just there.

Occasionally, he would notice you struggling with your bag or books, and without a second thought, Adrien would take them from you.

“Here,” he’d say, ‘Mon dieu,’ he’d mutter under his breath as he adjusted the weight, realising it was more than he anticipated. “I might have underestimated that.”

His touch was gentle, but firm, and his eyes always met yours with that same warm, effortless kindness. It wasn’t anything big, but it made you feel strangely cared for in a way you hadn’t expected.

And then, one day, you realised you were no longer simply meeting him in the library or on the grounds. Adrien had started showing up outside of those places, walking you to and from your classes. Even when you didn’t have class together, you’d find him walking beside you. Sometimes, you’d talk, sometimes not. But you always felt… lighter, more grounded with him by your side.

By the fifth week, something had changed. You were running late, as usual. You rushed through the hallways, trying to make it to Potions class on time, your bag slung over your shoulder and your books clutched tightly in your arms. You were almost there when you heard Slughorn’s voice, carrying through the door as he gave his typical greeting.

“Settle down, everyone!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice echoed, followed by his characteristic chuckle. “We’re about to begin!”

You pushed the door open quickly, slipping inside the classroom and feeling a rush of embarrassment. As you entered, your eyes immediately searched for a spot. The room was buzzing with conversation, but the first thing you noticed was Theodore’s desk—his books already neatly arranged on the surface. He was speaking to a group of students, laughing softly, not yet noticing you.

Your gaze flicked over to the other side of the room, where Adrien was sitting alone. His posture was relaxed, his usual calm expression on his face. He seemed unaware of the subtle tension you felt, but when his eyes met yours, there was a flicker of warmth, a quiet understanding between you both that had grown stronger over the past few weeks.

You hesitated for a moment. Theodore’s desk was set up just a few feet away, and yet, it felt so distant. You swallowed, glancing back at Adrien, who was looking at you with that familiar, soft smile.

You took a few steps toward his desk, feeling your heart race a little. Your thoughts collided in a whirlwind—Should I? Will it be okay? You were almost at his side when you stopped, unsure. Was it too bold, too sudden?

“Is it… okay if I sit here?” you asked quietly, your voice small but sincere, the question almost slipping out before you could stop it.

Adrien’s face lit up, his smile widening with ease. There was no hesitation in his response. “Of course,” he said, his accent slipping through just a bit as he added, “It’s… it’s more than okay.”

The words had a warmth that settled in your chest. You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. There was something comforting about the way he made you feel, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You slid into the seat beside him, your books still clutched in your lap, and glanced at the front of the room where Slughorn was still greeting the class. Your thoughts, however, lingered on the quiet space between you and Adrien. You couldn’t help but notice how easy it felt to sit next to him, how his presence made the world feel just a little bit softer.

Adrien shifted a little closer to his desk, leaning slightly in your direction as he began to unpack his things, but not too much—just enough to let you know he was there. It was subtle, but it made you feel less alone. You were here, in this moment, and for some reason, it felt like it mattered.

You settled into your seat, feeling the class start to hum around you as Slughorn continued his instructions. The words were a distant background noise now, and for a brief moment, you felt as though the world outside of this room had faded away. You were no longer rushing to catch up or trying to keep pace with your thoughts. You were just here, with Adrien, and it felt… easy.

The days had started to drag on, and with each one, the sense that something was off between you and Theodore Nott grew heavier. He couldn’t pinpoint it at first. There hadn’t been a single moment where you had argued or said anything that would cause him to doubt things between you. It was all the little things—the quiet shifts in your behaviour that he couldn’t ignore.

At first, he tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just the usual school pressure. Everyone was busy, and he knew you had other commitments, other friends. But the more he thought about it, the more something didn’t feel right. You hadn’t been by his side in the usual places—the library, the courtyard, the dining hall.

Theodore had always found comfort in those small, predictable routines you shared. The moments where you’d sneak into the library early, books scattered around the table as you both tried to get ahead on your assignments. The way you’d meet up in the courtyard after class, sharing a quiet moment before heading off to your next lesson. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it was your time, and it made everything feel familiar, safe, like the world around you could be chaotic, but at least you had that.

But now, it was as if those small moments had slipped away. You weren’t there waiting for him, and you weren’t with him when he expected you to be. At first, it was easy to ignore. But then, one morning, when he entered the dining hall, he caught sight of you. And his heart sank.

You were sitting with Adrien Delacroix.

It wasn’t that you weren’t allowed to sit with him—it was more that it was so different. You weren’t sitting with him like usual. You hadn’t even looked in his direction when he walked in. You and Adrien were talking, laughing, your heads bent close together as you shared some private joke.

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. Okay, he thought. It’s nothing. You were just talking to Adrien. He had no right to be bothered by it. It’s not like you weren’t friends with him. But still—something about it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel normal.

He tried to ignore it as he sat down at his usual spot, forcing himself to focus on his food, but the image of you and Adrien stayed in his mind. He pushed it down, telling himself it was nothing, but the feeling lingered, twisting in his chest.

Days passed, and it didn’t get better. It only seemed to get worse.

Theodore started to notice more subtle things. Like how you always seemed to be in the places that were once yours—the library, the courtyard, the dining hall. And each time, you weren’t with him. You were with Adrien.

It wasn’t just that. You weren’t sitting where you usually did anymore. In the library, you used to sit next to him, always the quiet corner by the window where the light slanted just right. But now, when he walked in, you were already there—across the room, seated next to Adrien, books laid out in front of you both, engrossed in whispers of conversation.

The first time it happened, Theodore had walked in expecting to find you at the usual spot, but you weren’t there. He scanned the room quickly, his heart sinking when he finally saw you. And Adrien.

The feeling in his chest shifted—unsettled, uncomfortable—as he walked past you both, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than it should. You hadn’t looked up, not even when he passed. It was almost like you hadn’t noticed him at all.

The second time it happened, it was during lunch. The same table. The same seats. But again, you weren’t sitting with him. You and Adrien were deep in conversation, the two of you leaning toward each other, laughing about something that seemed to have nothing to do with him.

Theodore sat down, trying to pretend it didn’t bother him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. And when he did, his eyes would flicker to Adrien, to the way you smiled at him. It’s fine, he told himself again. You and Adrien were friends. But it didn’t feel fine. It didn’t feel right. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being pushed out of the space you once shared.

He couldn’t quite put it into words, but it hurt.

The courtyard was the same. He had always expected to see you there, waiting for him, ready to talk about whatever was on your mind. But more often than not, you were already with Adrien.

It was small at first—those little moments when you weren’t there—but it was consistent. It was happening so often now, he couldn’t ignore it.

Theodore’s eyes followed you from across the courtyard. You were walking with Adrien again, your arms swinging lightly at your sides as you exchanged easy words with him. It wasn’t just that you were walking together—it was how naturally it seemed to come to you. There was no hesitation, no wariness. You were laughing at something Adrien had said, your body language open and comfortable.

Theodore felt a twinge in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly. Or maybe it was. He couldn’t quite sort through the jumble of emotions.

You had been so quiet with him lately. But here, with Adrien, you were lighthearted, carefree. So different. It stung.

He’d caught glimpses of this before, bits and pieces—your laughter a little louder when Adrien was around, your smiles more frequent. But seeing it like this, with the two of you walking side by side, so effortlessly close, made it feel… final.

The weight of the past few weeks pressed on him then—the subtle shift, the moments when he’d felt you slipping away without even realising why. You used to seek him out, find excuses to talk to him, to share your thoughts, even your silence. But recently… it had been different. More distant. More reserved.

And then, as if to confirm his suspicions, he saw you—laughing, your eyes bright as you interacted with Adrien and a group of friends. You were introducing Adrien to them, your hand lightly resting on his arm as you made some joke. Astoria and Draco were laughing along, their approval written across their faces. They exchanged knowing looks, their smiles stretching in approval at the ease with which you were interacting with Adrien.

Theodore stopped, watching from the edge of the group, unnoticed. His breath caught in his chest. You were so at ease around him. So different. Your laughter wasn’t strained or forced. It was free. Unburdened. It didn’t take much to see how much more comfortable you were around Adrien than you were with him.

You were surrounded by your friends—laughing, joking, pulling Adrien into the conversation with ease. Their eyes flickered between you two, and he saw them exchange smiles, clearly pleased with the dynamic between you. As if they were glad to see you so happy.

Theodore’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. Was this what you were becoming? The person you were without him?

The contrast was sharp. There you were, surrounded by people who seemed to appreciate you, who saw the side of you that he hadn’t seen in weeks. That he’d stopped seeing.

He couldn’t remember when things had started to shift. When had you pulled away? When had Adrien stepped into the spaces that were once his?

His heart ached with the realisation that you were no longer the person he shared these moments with. You weren’t the same. And worse still, it was clear you didn’t need him the way you had before.

But how had it happened? He thought, watching you, his mind spiralling.

By the time Potions class rolled around, the feeling had only grown worse. Theodore had arrived early, as he often did, hoping to settle in before the class began. He made his way to the table you usually sat at, gathering his books and preparing for the lesson, but he was soon called over by a classmate.

He gave the table one last glance before walking over, but something gnawed at him. He hadn’t seen you yet. Was she late again?

He thought nothing of it, you usually took a nap before Thursday’s potions class—often finding an empty nearby classroom to get yourself 20 minutes of sleep.

When Slughorn called for everyone to sit down, Theodore returned to the table, expecting you to already be there, as usual. He looked up, ready to greet you with a casual smile, only to pause to realise the seat was empty. He became confused.

Was she ill? Is she okay?

As he took his seat, he started twisting and turning, looking for all the other possible entrances—waiting for your hectic entrance. His heart dropped as his eyes landed on you—sitting with Adrien. Right there, on the other side of the classroom, with someone who wasn’t him. He blinked, almost thinking he had seen wrong, but no—the reality didn’t change. You were sitting beside him, your focus flicking between Slughorn and Adrien.

Theodore froze , his breath caught in his chest. At first, his mind registered the strange emptiness in his stomach, like something was missing. And then, his thoughts shifted.

She’s okay. Just not with me.

The words in his head felt like they were slowing down as he settled on his stool, trying to gather his thoughts. You and Adrien, already engrossed in a conversation, hadn’t even noticed him yet. His confusion only grew as he glanced at your table, trying not to show how the tightness in his chest was making it hard to breathe. Why weren’t you sitting with him?

Theodore’s grip on his quill tightened until his knuckles whitened. It had been weeks since you’d sought him out, and now… now, it was like he didn’t even exist in the spaces you once shared.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something had changed.

Theodore had never considered himself an impatient person. He knew how to wait. He had spent years perfecting the art of watching, observing, and keeping his emotions neatly in check, tucked away beneath layers of carefully constructed indifference.

But right now, sitting in this godforsaken Potions lesson, he felt like he was unraveling.

His grip on his quill was tight, the feathered tip bending slightly under the pressure of his fingers. He forced himself to focus on the instructions, on the slow, deliberate movements of slicing up the ginger roots in front of him. But his hands were tense, his shoulders stiff, his entire body wound so tightly that he thought if someone so much as breathed wrong in his direction, he might snap.

He had been watching you. He hated that he had been watching you.

But how could he not?

You were right there, just a few feet away, your head tilted toward Adrien, your expression soft in a way that Theodore hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. The two of you worked side by side, close enough that your elbows brushed every now and then, and each time it happened, you didn’t flinch away. Didn’t seem to mind at all.

It was infuriating.

He didn’t understand it—this shift, this change, the way you had slipped out of his grasp so seamlessly that he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

Maybe that was the worst part.

He could still remember the way things used to be—the way you used to seek him out, even when he wasn’t looking for you. The way you’d drop into the seat beside him without a second thought, a quiet presence that had never felt intrusive, never felt unwelcome. The way you had once laughed with him, not the way you did with Adrien now, but in a way that had been just for him.

But that version of you was gone, wasn’t it?

Theodore’s jaw clenched, and before he could stop himself, his fingers tightened around his quill—too tight.

The wood snapped between his fingers with a sharp crack.

A few students turned at the noise, but Theodore didn’t move. He barely even registered the ink that dripped onto his parchment, spreading into dark, messy blotches. His pulse was hammering against his ribs, a steady, unrelenting rhythm that did nothing to soothe the weight pressing against his chest.

He had to get a grip.

He forced his fingers to relax, letting the broken pieces of his quill drop onto the desk. He exhaled slowly, but it didn’t make a difference. The irritation still clawed at him, sharp and unrelenting.

He was tired of this. Tired of pretending that it didn’t matter, tired of convincing himself that it didn’t get to him every time he saw Adrien carrying your books, or walking beside you like he had always belonged there.

Because he hadn’t.

That was Theodore’s place.

Or at least—it had been.

He hadn’t been able to talk to you properly in weeks. Not because he didn’t want to. He did. He wanted to find you alone, wanted to pull you aside, wanted to demand answers that he wasn’t even sure he could put into words.

But every time he tried, Adrien was there.

It was infuriating how easily the other boy had slid into your life, how effortlessly he had taken up space that should have been Theodore’s.

He had tried to tell himself that he was being irrational. That there was no reason to feel like this, no reason to let something as simple as your choice of company bother him.

But it did.

It fucking did.

And what made it worse—what made it unbearable—was that you didn’t seem to notice.

You didn’t notice how he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention.

Didn’t notice the way his hands curled into fists every time Adrien slung an arm around your shoulder.

Didn’t notice the way he had started walking slower in the hallways, lingering just long enough to see if you’d turn to him, if you’d say something, anything.

But you never did.

Theodore inhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep his expression impassive as he glanced toward you again.

You were laughing.

Not just a quiet chuckle, not the polite kind of laughter you gave when you were only half-paying attention. No, this was different. This was real. Genuine. The kind that made your eyes crinkle at the edges, that made you drop your head slightly like you couldn’t quite contain it.

And Adrien—fucking Adrien Delacroix—was looking at you like you had given him the best gift in the world.

Theodore’s fingers curled around the edge of his desk, nails pressing into the wood.

The sound of Slughorn’s voice cut through the air, signalling the end of the lesson, but Theodore barely heard it.

He was still staring at you, at the way you gathered your things with an easy, unbothered grace, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.

He should say something.

Now.

This was his chance.

Before he could overthink it, before you could leave the room, before Adrien could whisk you away yet again.

But just as he stepped forward—

Adrien turned to you, saying something quietly, something just for you. Whatever it was, it made you smile, and then, just like that, you were walking toward the door with him, the two of you slipping effortlessly into the current of students flooding the corridor.

And Theodore—

Theodore was left standing there, fists clenched at his sides, frustration coiling tightly in his chest like a noose.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

This wasn’t just irritation. This wasn’t just some fleeting annoyance that he could brush off with a sharp exhale and a roll of his shoulders.

No—this was something else entirely.

Something heavier.

Something dangerously close to regret.

Theodore barely felt his feet against the stone floor as he stormed through the castle. His mind was racing, his pulse pounding, the frustration still simmering beneath his skin like an open wound.

He couldn’t shake the image of you and Adrien in Potions. The way the two of you worked so easily together, the way your elbows brushed when you leaned too close. The way he murmured something low, just for you, and the way your lips had twitched with amusement before you gave him that look. That soft, private look that Theodore hadn’t seen in weeks.

It was wrong. It should have been him sitting next to you, not Adrien. It should have been his shoulder brushing against yours. He should have been the one pulling your cauldron closer when you got distracted, the one smirking as you muttered something under your breath about how you hated Slughorn’s tedious assignments. He should have been the one you turned to with that easy familiarity, the kind that once belonged to him and only him.

But he wasn’t.

Because you had stopped turning to him at all.

And now? Now you had Adrien-fucking- Delacroix acting like he had any right to step into that space, like he had the right to replace Theodore without a second thought. Like you had simply let it happen.

His hands clenched at his sides.

He had to know. Had to understand why this was happening, why you had pulled away, why it felt like you had disappeared from his life without so much as a second glance. Because if he didn’t get answers soon, he felt like he might lose his goddamn mind.

He took the corner sharply, heading straight for Draco’s dorm.

Someone moved into his path.

“Theodore?”

It was the girl from before—the one who had approached him at breakfast, the one who had tried to invite him to the Valentine’s party some weeks back. The same girl who had looked at you with thinly veiled amusement, like you were some afterthought to her plans.

He didn’t care about her.

She stepped toward him with a bright, expectant smile. “I was wondering if—”

He walked right past her.

Didn’t slow down. Didn’t acknowledge her.

Didn’t even hear what she had been about to say.

Her voice faltered, her footsteps pausing behind him, but he didn’t bother looking back. He was already moving, already set on what he needed to do, already too far gone to stop now.

Draco was going to tell him what the hell was going on.

His patience had finally run out.

By the time he reached the door, he didn’t hesitate. He slammed his fist against it, hard enough that the hinges rattled.

“Malfoy,” he bit out, voice sharp, demanding. “Open the fucking door.”

Nothing.

His fingers curled into a fist again, his knuckles burning.

“If you don’t open it right now, I swear I’ll—”

The handle gave way easily beneath his grip. The door wasn’t locked.

He shoved it open, frustration spilling over—

And immediately regretted it.

Draco Malfoy was on his bed, half-naked.

Astoria Greengrass was also half-naked.

The sheets had barely been pulled over her, her blouse abandoned somewhere on the floor, her curls disheveled in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Draco was sitting up against the headboard, shirtless, his hair a mess, looking every bit like someone who had just been interrupted at the worst possible moment.

Theodore froze.

Astoria froze.

Draco blinked once, then exhaled like this was nothing more than an inconvenience.

For a full, excruciating moment, nobody moved.

Then Astoria let out a noise of sheer disbelief, scrambling for the sheets to cover herself. “Are you actually fucking serious, Nott?”

Theodore felt like he’d been dropped into hell.

His eyes snapped to the ceiling. “For fuck’s sake—” He turned sharply, facing the door, but didn’t leave. His fingers dug into his temples as he let out a slow, aggravated breath. “Why the fuck was your door unlocked?”

Draco just rolled his eyes, completely unbothered. “Didn’t think a lunatic was about to barge in.”

Astoria scoffed from where she stood by the wardrobe, still tying the belt of Draco’s robe around her waist. “Merlin, if I had a Galleon for every time a Slytherin boy had a meltdown in this room, I’d be rich.”

Theodore barely heard her. His patience snapped.

“What’s going on with her?”

Draco raised a brow. “Who?”

Theodore saw red.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed Draco’s collar and yanked him forward, the frustration that had been simmering beneath his skin finally spilling over.

Draco barely reacted, unimpressed as ever, but before he could pry Theodore off—

Astoria grabbed Theodore’s collar.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, physically pulling Theodore back with both hands, forcing him to let go of Draco’s shirt. “If you’re about to start some macho territorial bullshit, at least have the decency to do it outside where I’m not half-naked.”

Theodore barely stumbled, but his glare snapped to her. “Stay out of this, Greengrass.”

Astoria barked out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t dream of it.” She crossed her arms, gaze narrowing. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem,” Theodore hissed, shaking his head, “is that you two clearly know something and are dragging this out instead of telling me what the fuck is going on.”

Draco straightened his collar like nothing had happened, exhaling in exasperation. “I already told you—”

Astoria cut him off, rolling her eyes. “He’s too dense, Malfoy. Just tell him what your dear cousin is doing before he starts breaking furniture.”

Draco shot her an unimpressed look but obliged, sighing as he finally leaned back against the headboard.

“She’s seventeen, Theodore.”

Theodore clenched his jaw. “I know that.”

“Do you?” Astoria interjected, raising a brow. “Because you’re acting like it’s some great mystery why a girl like her is suddenly acting her age.”

Theodore snapped his head toward her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Astoria exchanged a slow glance with Draco, like they were having a silent conversation. Then she sighed dramatically, sitting on the edge of the bed and propping her chin on her palm.

“It means,” she said slowly, “that it’s embarrassing how blind you are.”

Theodore’s nails dug into his palms. “Watch it, Greengrass.”

“Or what?” she shot back, unimpressed. “You’ll shove me into a wall next? Gods, you are so obvious.”

Draco smirked. “She’s right, you know.”

“Of course I am,” Astoria said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Here’s the thing, Nott. If you wanted her to stay in your orbit, maybe you shouldn’t have acted like she was nothing more than some convenient little thing to have around.”

Theodore’s jaw ticked. “That’s not—”

“She’s moving on,” Draco interrupted, his voice eerily calm. “Because that’s what people do when they realise they’ve been wasting their time.”

The words landed like a slap.

Theodore swallowed, something bitter curling in his stomach.

Astoria hummed. “I mean, you didn’t actually think she’d wait around for you forever, did you?” She tilted her head, watching him. “Poor thing probably woke up one day and realised she was chasing after a ghost.”

Theodore’s hands curled into fists. “That’s not how it was.”

Draco gave him a flat look. “Wasn’t it?”

Theodore hated the way his stomach twisted.

“She’s not stupid, Nott,” Draco continued, voice cool. “And she’s not waiting anymore. She’s looking for something better.” He smirked, slow and sharp. “Someone better.”

Astoria whistled. “Brutal.”

Theodore exhaled harshly through his nose, shaking his head. “That’s not—” He stopped himself. His voice had wavered. Fuck.

Astoria’s expression shifted, like she had caught something in his face that he hadn’t meant to show. Then, to his absolute fury, she smiled.

“Oh, this is rich,” she mused, eyes flickering over him. “You actually thought she was always going to come back to you, didn’t you?”

Theodore froze.

Draco chuckled under his breath.

“She did, though, didn’t she?” Astoria continued, tapping a finger against her knee. “Every time you got too cold, every time you pulled away, every time you treated her like a second thought—she still came back. And now that she’s not?” Her lips curled, saccharine and cruel. “You don’t know what to do with yourself.”

The words dug in deep, cutting through skin and bone like a blade.

Draco sighed, stretching out his legs. “You’re pissed off because you thought you had all the time in the world.” He gave Theodore a lazy once-over. “But newsflash—you don’t.”

Astoria nodded in agreement. “Adrien Delacroix is looking like a much better option than a boy who can’t make up his fucking mind.”

Theodore’s breathing was sharp, unsteady. His mind raced, but his lips remained pressed in a tight, stubborn line. He refused to acknowledge the sickening feeling twisting inside him, the one whispering that Draco and Astoria were right.

They weren’t. They couldn’t be.

You weren’t moving on.

You weren’t choosing Adrien over him.

You couldn’t be.

“I never treated her like a second thought,” Theodore muttered, voice tight, controlled—barely masking the storm raging inside him.

Astoria let out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, really?” Her arms crossed over her chest, her expression sharpening into something lethal. “Then what the hell do you call the past few months, Nott?”

Theodore’s jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to argue—

But Astoria gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest in mock horror.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I say months? That was a huge mistake.” She took a step closer, her smirk turning cold.

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something vicious.

“Years.”

The words landed like a curse, slamming into Theodore’s chest, wrapping around his ribs like an iron vice.

His stomach dropped.

Astoria scoffed. “Yeah, years, Nott. Years of you keeping her close enough to touch but never letting her hold on. Years of her looking at you like you hung the fucking stars, waiting—praying—for you to see her the way she saw you.”

Theodore’s breath was coming in short, uneven pulls.

“But you didn’t, did you?” Astoria pressed, her voice razor-sharp. “Or maybe you did, and you liked knowing she’d never leave. That no matter how many times you ignored her, no matter how many times you pulled away, no matter how many times you made her feel like she was nothing—she’d still be there.”

Theodore’s stomach twisted violently.

Because she was right.

You had always been there.

And he had been stupid enough to take that for granted.

His throat felt tight. “That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what happened!” Astoria screamed, her voice cracking, raw with frustration. “She spent years orbiting around you like you were something fucking sacred. Like you were the fucking sun and she was just lucky to stand in your light.”

Theodore felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“But stars burn out, Nott,” Astoria spat, hands trembling at her sides. “And eventually, people stop waiting.”

His chest ached—something sharp, something unbearable, something he hadn’t even realized was there until this moment.

You had waited for him. For so long. And he—

He had wasted it.

Astoria wasn’t finished.

“And you know what the worst part is?” she demanded, stepping even closer, fury flashing in her eyes. “She never even wanted to say anything about it! She just took it.”

Theodore blinked. “What?”

Astoria let out a hollow laugh. “Oh yeah, she never complained. Never confronted you. Never demanded that you finally make up your fucking mind.” She sneered. “But Draco noticed, didn’t you?”

Draco exhaled through his nose, nodding, his expression unreadable.

“She never told me,” he admitted. “But I saw the red eyes. The tear-stained sleeves. The way she always looked away when she thought no one was watching.”

Theodore’s chest constricted, a sickening pressure building in his ribs.

No.

No, that wasn’t—

You had never—

Had you?

“She thought she was hiding it,” Astoria continued, voice filled with something dangerously close to disgust. “But I got her to talk. Eventually. And do you know what she said?”

Theodore couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“She said it didn’t matter.” Astoria’s voice softened for just a second, something bitter laced in her tone. “She said she was fine. That you weren’t doing anything wrong—that it was just how you were.” Her expression hardened again, her hands clenching into fists. “And do you know how fucking heartbreaking it is to watch someone shrink themselves into something manageable just so the person they love doesn’t feel guilty?”

Theodore’s hands were shaking.

“She acted like it was normal,” Astoria went on, her voice rising again. “Like it was fine that she spent years being treated like an afterthought—like she should just be grateful for the scraps of attention you gave her.”

Theodore felt like he was going to be sick.

She had hurt because of him.

She had cried because of him.

And he had never even noticed.

Astoria exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “And now you have the fucking audacity to stand here and act like she’s the one abandoning you?” Her voice broke, half a laugh, half something furious. “No, Theodore. You don’t get to do that. You let her go. And now she’s choosing to be happy.”

Theodore’s nails dug into his palms so hard he thought they might draw blood.

Because he saw it now.

Every moment he had let pass. Every glance you had given him that he had pretended not to notice. Every fucking time you had stood next to him, waiting for him to say something, to do something, and he had done nothing.

And now you weren’t waiting anymore.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “I care about her.”

Astoria’s laugh was vicious. “No, no, you fucking don’t.”

Theodore flinched.

Astoria stared at him for a long moment, her eyes still burning. Then, she exhaled and threw up her hands. “Oh, my god.”

Theodore swallowed hard.

Astoria turned to Draco. “Why are boys so fucking stupid?”

Draco sighed. “It’s genetic.”

Theodore’s control shattered. His pride was in ruins. He took a step forward, his voice breaking. “Please.”

Astoria blinked.

Draco raised a brow.

Theodore swallowed hard. His throat burned, his chest ached, but none of it mattered. Not compared to this.

“I can’t—I can’t lose her,” he said, voice shaking. “I can’t—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching as he forced himself to meet Astoria’s gaze. “Just tell me what the fuck to do.”

Astoria studied him.

Then she sighed, rubbing her temples. “God, you’re pathetic.”

Draco hummed. “Painful to watch, really.”

Astoria rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine.” She took a step forward, poking a sharp finger into Theodore’s chest. “You want to fix this?”

Theodore didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then stop thinking about it and do something, you absolute coward.”

Theodore exhaled shakily.

Astoria didn’t let up. “You don’t get to just show up and expect her to forgive you. You have to fight for her. You have to prove to her that you give a shit.”

Theodore swallowed hard.

Draco smirked. “Sounds like a grand gesture is in order.”

Astoria snorted. “Not even. Something consistent, Nott. Because trust me—Adrien is making it very, very easy for her to forget about you.”

Something flared hot in Theodore’s chest.

No.

You weren’t going to forget him.

He wasn’t going to let you.

And for the first time in his life—

He was going to fight for you.

Theodore woke with a start, the sharp knock at his door pulling him violently from the tangled haze of restless sleep. His head jerked up, and for a disoriented moment, the room swayed around him—stacks of parchment, ink-stained hands, the bitter taste of exhaustion thick on his tongue. His cheek had been pressed against his desk, the parchment beneath it crumpled, words smudged into an indecipherable mess. His body ached, stiff from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in, and as he blinked blearily, the sight before him sank in with a slow, leaden weight.

His desk was an absolute disaster. Papers—so many of them—scattered across the wooden surface, some half-crumpled in frustration, others folded neatly, all of them failed attempts at something that should’ve been simple. Letters.

He had tried to write to you.

The realization clawed at him, dragging its nails down his ribs. The ink had bled through some pages, the sentences struck through with such force that they had torn, his frustration laid bare in every scratched-out word. Apologies he couldn’t get right. Apologies that, even now, felt meaningless. His own handwriting glared back at him in different variations of the same pitiful attempts:

I should’ve—

I never meant—

If you could just—

None of them were right. None of them would fix it.

A second knock echoed against the heavy door, firmer this time. He exhaled sharply, running a tired hand over his face before pushing himself up from the desk. The room felt suffocating, a mess of discarded pages, ink bottles knocked onto their sides, the air thick with the weight of too many unsaid things. He barely remembered falling asleep. He barely remembered anything past the spiral of last night—pacing the room, writing, tossing letter after letter into the pile, his mind a hurricane of words he could never bring himself to say aloud.

And now, someone was here.

Dragging himself toward the door, Theodore pulled it open without much thought. The sight that greeted him made his stomach drop.

Packages. Stacked haphazardly outside his room, almost comically abundant. A house-elf stood beside them, looking mildly unimpressed as he shuffled the last box into place.

“Delivery for Master Nott,” the elf announced, then, without another word, disappeared with a sharp crack, leaving Theodore standing there, staring at the pile of things he had—

Merlin.

His fingers twitched at his sides, a slow, creeping horror settling into his bones as he took in the sight properly. Wildflowers, their petals pristine and delicate, wrapped in deep green silk. A book—the one you had mentioned in passing months ago, the one you had run your fingers over in the shop window but never bought for yourself. You've probably found a way to read this already. Jewelry, carefully selected, gleaming in the light. And more—small things, tokens, pieces of something that, at the time, had seemed like they would mean something.

His gut twisted.

"Cazzo," he muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face, pressing his fingers hard against his closed eyes.

This—this was pathetic.

A short, breathless laugh left him, bitter and self-deprecating. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands as if it might ground him, as if it might undo whatever this was. What had he been thinking? That he could throw money at this, at you, and somehow that would fix it? That he could neatly wrap up his guilt in expensive gifts and you’d just—what? Forgive him? Pretend none of it happened?

Theodore swallowed hard, his gaze darkening as it lingered on the unopened packages. The weight of it all—the sleepless nights, the letters he could never finish, the sharp edges of regret cutting into him—it crashed down with a force that made his chest feel hollow.

Because he saw it now.

You wouldn’t take any of this. You would look at the flowers, the book, the jewelry, all of it—and you would see right through him. You would see the desperation, the guilt, the pathetic attempt to mend something that was already broken.

He saw you standing there, just beyond the mess, your figure sharp against the blur of his exhaustion. The tilt of your head, the steady weight of your gaze—it was you. It had to be. You were right there, arms crossed, expression unreadable, watching him in that way that always made his chest feel tight.

For a split second, relief surged through him, raw and unfiltered. You had come. You had seen the mess, the letters, the wildflowers, the pathetic attempt at fixing things, and you had come anyway.

But you weren’t saying anything. You were just standing there, your eyes scanning the disaster around him, and when they met his, they weren’t filled with anger. They were filled with something worse.

Disappointment.

His stomach twisted, his throat tightening painfully. He opened his mouth, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I know—" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "I know it's not enough."

You didn’t move. Didn’t react. The silence pressed against him, heavier than anything he had ever felt.

He swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. "I just—" He let out a short, unsteady breath, raking a hand through his hair. "What the fuck was I thinking?"

Still, nothing. Your gaze didn’t waver, and that was what made it unbearable. It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t cold. It was just… resigned.

"Cazzo," he muttered under his breath, dragging his hands down his face. "I should've—"

You can’t buy my forgiveness, Theodore.

The words weren’t loud. They weren’t cruel. But they might as well have been a curse, sinking deep into his chest, curling around his ribs like something inescapable.

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes, willing the vision to disappear.

But when he opened them again—you were gone.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as if that could push the thought away. As if he didn’t already know, deep down, that you had every right to say it.

Because this wasn’t about the gifts. It was about everything before them. The years of taking you for granted. The dismissals, the avoidance, the ways he had let you slip through his fingers like something he had assumed would always be there.

And now, when he was finally ready to reach for you—you weren’t waiting anymore.

The realization hit harder than he expected, slamming into him like a punch to the ribs. His throat tightened, and for a long, unbearable moment, all he could do was stand there, staring at the mess he had made.

Then, with a sharp inhale, he turned away. The packages remained where they were, untouched, as Theodore shut the door behind him, pressing his back against the wood.

He needed to do better.

But for the first time, he wasn’t sure if it would be enough.

How was he supposed to reach you now? How was he supposed to even begin to fix this? He couldn’t just show up—not after everything, not after the silence he had let stretch between you like an uncrossable chasm. And yet, the thought of doing nothing, of letting this fester, made his stomach churn violently.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. He had spent so long keeping you at a distance, and now that you were truly out of reach, all he wanted to do was find you.

But how?

Theodore wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there.

He had come out to the courtyard for a cigarette—just one, just long enough to clear his head. Long enough to pretend that he wasn’t unraveling from the inside out. But the hours had slipped by like water through his fingers, and now the sun was setting, casting the sky in deep purples and burnt oranges. His cigarette pack was almost empty. His fingers were stained with nicotine, raw from how many times he had burned each cigarette down to the filter.

The taste of smoke lingered thickly at the back of his throat, acrid and familiar, but it wasn’t doing anything to settle him. His nerves felt frayed, his thoughts tangled in a loop he couldn’t escape. The mess of the morning still clung to him—Astoria’s words, Draco’s sharp-edged amusement, the unbearable weight of knowing he had let you slip right through his fingers.

He didn’t want to talk to them again. Pushing harder would mean Astoria telling him to fuck off or worse—another lecture from her sharp tongue. And Draco? Draco was already entertained enough by this whole thing. No. If Theodore was going to understand what had changed, there was only one person who could give him that answer.

Adrien Delacroix.

The thought of Adrien gnawed at him. He’d noticed him the second he stepped into the courtyard, but Adrien had been here first. That should have meant something. Should’ve given him the right to ignore him, to pretend that he wasn’t watching from the corner of his eye as Adrien sat with his group of friends.

"C'est insensé," one of them muttered, shaking his head. "Tu as vu? Since—je ne sais pas, maybe une hour?"

Adrien exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Je sais."

The boy scoffed. "Mais pourquoi? What is his problem? He just—stares, like—like he wants to kill you."

Another boy chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. "You steal his girlfriend or something?" His accent thick but teasing. "He looks at you like... like you took something from him."

Adrien smirked, shaking his head. "Non. But maybe he thinks so."

Theodore’s chest tightened, his hands shaking, his cigarette burning down too quickly in his hand. He could feel the jealousy curling in his gut like a fist. The idea that Adrien could have anything to do with you—it shouldn’t matter. He knew it shouldn’t matter. But fuck, it did.

His teeth ground together, a bitter taste rising in his mouth. The laughter of Adrien’s friends, casual and light, sent a flare of irritation through him. He hated how Adrien made everything feel easy—like he was untouchable. It burned even worse when Theodore had to rely on him to understand what had changed.

And still—he couldn’t just let it go.

The thought of asking Adrien for help was almost unbearable. His pride bristled at the idea of begging, of needing someone like him for something. Adrien had a way of making everything feel like a game, like Theodore was just another piece on his chessboard.

But fuck, the thought of not asking him was worse. The knot in his chest tightened. If Adrien was the answer, then he’d have to go to him. And that was the last thing he wanted.

But what else was there? How else would he get to you?

Adrien laughed again. The sound caught him off guard—light, unbothered. It threaded through the crisp evening air like it belonged there. Theodore didn’t want to hear it. But somehow, it clung to him, stoking the fire in his chest.

"Merde," one of Adrien’s friends muttered, and Theodore’s stomach twisted. "Regarde encore— he’s still looking."

Adrien sighed, rubbing his temple. "Je sais."

Theodore’s shoulders tensed. The idea that Adrien could sense him watching—feel his gaze—made his blood boil. He dropped his gaze, flicking the last of the cigarette, trying to feign disinterest, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"Mais pourquoi?" the other boy scoffed, laughing in confusion. "What is his problem? Il te déteste ou quoi? He stares—like—comme un chien abandonné."

Theodore’s heart raced, the words biting deeper than they should’ve. He wasn’t staring—he wasn’t! Just watching. Just—he wasn’t sure what it was.

But Adrien—he huffed out a short, tired laugh, stretching his arms behind him. "Non. Mais—" He tilted his head slightly, like he was thinking, like he was weighing something. "Maybe he doesn’t know what he wants."

Another boy snorted. "C'est triste. Feels like he wants to fight you ou beg for something."

Laughter, casual, and it dug at Theodore, twisting inside him. He could almost hear the amusement in Adrien’s voice—like he knew exactly what he was doing to him. It was infuriating.

But worse, much worse, was the sinking feeling that had settled in his chest. Adrien was playing some game—he always did—but now, it felt different. Every second he spent here, just watching, was another second he was losing control. Losing ground.

Theodore ground his teeth together, the ember of his cigarette flaring briefly with the tightness in his grip. He wasn’t even sure why he was still here—still stuck in this courtyard, pretending he didn’t care. He didn’t need to care.

But you do, a voice in his head whispered, and Theodore slammed it down immediately. No. He didn’t need to do this. He didn’t need Adrien. Didn’t need anything from him. The thought was a bitter taste at the back of his throat.

His gaze had drifted again. Adrien was still there, still with his friends, still being him, laughing, existing like the world had nothing on him. Theodore’s eyes narrowed, but his thoughts felt like they were slipping away, growing foggy, distant. It wasn’t that he wanted to look—he didn’t, not anymore—but his mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything. Every word, every laugh, every glance.

Before he knew it, he was no longer paying attention to anything around him—just lost in the buzz of his own thoughts. Adrien’s presence was like a shadow he couldn’t shake, hovering at the edge of his mind, no matter how much he wanted to push it away.

That was when he felt it.

A shift in the air. A pressure building. Like the ground was vibrating, or the space around him had suddenly grown too small.

Theodore’s heart skipped a beat, a flutter of panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t heard any footsteps—hadn’t seen Adrien moving, hadn’t noticed him leave his friends.

But then—

Adrien’s figure appeared in his peripheral vision, and Theodore’s breath caught in his throat.

He didn’t know how to process it, how to even think about it. Adrien was walking straight toward him, cutting through the space between them like he had every right to.

What the fuck is he doing?

Theodore’s mind raced, panic flooding through him in an instant. He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t prepared for this. His fingers tightened around the cigarette, and his pulse quickened as he tried to steady his breath. His thoughts crashed against each other, the sharp throb of confusion making him dizzy.

He didn’t know why it hit him like this. Adrien never approached him like this—never. Not without purpose. Not without making some fucking joke or saying something sarcastic. And now—

Is he coming to confront me? To mock me?

Theodore’s chest tightened at the thought. No. No, that can’t be it. He wouldn’t... would he?

His heart pounded in his ears as he fought the urge to stand up, to run, to hide, to do anything but stay frozen in place. Adrien was still coming closer. Still making his way to him with that effortless stride, like he had all the time in the world.

What the hell does he want?

Theodore’s mind screamed at him to stay calm, but the tension in his body was unbearable. He wasn’t hidden anymore. He couldn’t hide anymore.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t ready for any of it. Not for this moment. Not for whatever Adrien was going to throw at him next. The weight of everything he had been avoiding crashed down on him, and in that moment, all he could think was one thing: I’m not ready.

The frenchman stopped just short of Theodore, standing for a moment as if assessing the space between them. Theodore’s stomach twisted, every instinct telling him to look away, to say something, to do anything but sit there in silence.

Adrien didn’t seem to mind the quiet. With a casual flick of his wrist, he pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and glanced at Theodore. “You got a light?”

Theodore hesitated, fingers hovering over his own lighter in his pocket - scratching at the engraving. The boy was giving him the most horrid once over - as if judging the sham-confidence that he was trying so hard to convince himself was real. He considered not handing over the lighter—to not say anything at all. But Adrien wasn’t waiting for permission, just standing there, waiting for Theodore to respond.

Finally, Theodore pulled the lighter from his pocket and handed it over. Adrien took it without a word, lighting the cigarette he was balancing between his teeth. As the flame flickered out, he sank down on the bench next to him, taking a deep inhale of the cigarette. He glanced down at the lighter and raised an eyebrow.

“Teo?” Adrien said, his tone teasing, yet genuinely curious. He turned it over in his fingers, inspecting the engraving. “Someone special gave this to you?”

Theodore’s chest tightened. He didn’t answer, couldn’t. The air felt thick, heavy, with Adrien just sitting there— just a a meter away, eyes flicking between him and the lighter, like he knew exactly how to get under Theodore’s skin. He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly.

“So,” Adrien said after a moment, the word hanging between them like a challenge. “What is it that you think I’ve done?”

Theodore’s heart skipped a beat. His instincts screamed at him to push back, to protect whatever was left of his pride, but he stayed silent. Adrien’s eyes never left him, his smirk widening.

“You’ve been staring at me like you’re planning my funeral. Is it that bad?” Adrien said casually, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Theodore’s grip tightened around his near-dead cigarette, the ember flaring with his barely restrained irritation. He should say something, anything, but the words were caught in his throat.

Adrien, sensing the tension, continued to poke at him. “Well whatever, it is, it must be bad enough that you've spent the last 3 heures burning holes into my head.”

Theodore’s jaw clenched. He wanted to fight back, to get under Adrien’s skin the way he was doing to him, but the silence between them felt like a trap. Adrien was waiting for something. A reaction. A slip-up. He was playing this game, and Theodore was losing.

The weight of it pressed against his ribs, coiling tight around his lungs, making every breath feel too shallow. The courtyard stretched vast and open around them, but the air between them was thick—choking, stagnant. Something waiting to snap.

A shift of movement. The subtle inhale of someone who had already made up their mind.

Adrien exhaled first. A slow breath through his nose, smoke curling from his lips before he flicked what remained of his cigarette to the ground. The ember sizzled faintly against damp stone, dimming instantly, disappearing.

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he lingered, rolling his shoulders back before tilting his head just slightly—casual, practiced ease masking something sharper beneath the surface.

"So." His voice was light, too light. A forced contrast against the weight pressing down on them. "What’s with the lurking?"

The silence that followed dragged.

It should have been broken by something natural—a scoff, a sigh, any acknowledgment that the words had even been spoken. But nothing came.

No response. No movement.

Just tension, settling deeper, embedding itself into every unspoken second.

Adrien’s fingers twitched. "You know," he continued, tone shifting toward something drier, "if you’re going to stand there and stare at me all night, you could at least pretend to have a reason."

Still, nothing.

Not a single flicker of acknowledgment, save for the way Theodore’s fingers tightened—so slightly it would have been easy to miss—at his sides.

The tell was small. But it was there.

Adrien hummed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Long day?"

A pause.

Theodore’s jaw clenched, a flicker of tension in his shoulders so brief it could have been imagined.

Not an answer. But not nothing, either.

The corner of Adrien’s mouth curled—not in amusement, not really. It was too exasperated for that, too dry. "Or are you just like this now?"

That got a reaction. A sharp inhale, controlled but still noticeable.

Like the comment had landed.

Like it had hit somewhere.

The silence that followed was different. Sharper.

Adrien exhaled, running a slow hand through his hair, the weight of his own patience wearing thin. "Right." He nodded to himself, voice dipping into something lower, something edged with something just slightly irritated. "You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?"

Another pause. Another beat of nothingness stretching too long, stretching so far it started to feel personal.

Adrien didn’t miss the way Theodore’s gaze flickered—not toward him, never toward him—but past him, around him, away from him.

Avoiding.

Not engaging.

Something about that settled wrong in Adrien’s chest.

Because why was this his problem?

Why was he standing here, trying, when the weight of what had gone wrong between Theodore and her had nothing to do with him?

He hadn’t been the one to pull away. He hadn’t been the one to let her think, even for a second, that she wasn’t important enough to fight for.

And yet, somehow, he was the one standing in the cold, dragging words out of someone who clearly had no intention of speaking first.

His fingers twitched at his sides before curling into fists.

Yeah. No.

"Right. You know what?" A step back. A shake of the head. "I’m not doing this."

He turned, already done, already moving.

Then—

"Wait!"

The word came rough. Unsteady.

Like something had slipped before it could be swallowed down.

Adrien stopped.

For a moment, he didn’t turn back.

Didn’t move.

Just let the silence stretch impossibly thin, let the weight of the word sit between them, heavy and unmistakable.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he turned.

The silence stretched between them, thick with something neither of them wanted to name. Theodore shifted, his jaw clenching as he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to meet Adrien’s gaze. The Frenchman, still standing with his weight lazily shifted to one side, raised a brow, unimpressed.

Adrien let out a breath of laughter, though there was no real humor in it. "What? You gonna keep staring at me like I stole your inheritance, or do you actually have something to say?"

Theodore's fingers twitched at his sides. He wasn’t in the mood for games, but he couldn’t blame Adrien for being like this. Not really. He had spent weeks resenting him, watching him from afar, convincing himself that Adrien was the reason everything had changed. But now, standing here, with no one else to turn to, he found himself swallowing the words that burned in his throat before finally forcing them out.

"I want her to know that I've made the effort—that I've changed. But how do I make her see that?"

Adrien blinked. For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, a slow, exaggerated sigh left his lips, and he ran a hand down his face. "Oh, mon dieu," he muttered, shaking his head. "You cannot be serious. Is this really happening?"

Theodore’s hands clenched into fists. "Just answer the question."

Adrien gave him a long look, and for a second, Theodore thought he was going to walk away. But then, the amusement in Adrien’s eyes dimmed, something steadier settling in its place. He tilted his head slightly, assessing him.

"Why are you asking me?" Adrien asked, his voice quieter now, less sharp. "You must have learnt something in the how many years she's been pining after you You’re just hoping I’ll say something that makes it easier for you."

Theodore swallowed hard. "I—"

Adrien cut in. "You’re just hoping I’ll say something that makes it easier for you, aren't you?"

"And what, let me guess," Adrien exhaled, crossing his arms. "You’ve finally realized you’ve been acting like a complete idiot, and now you’re desperate to fix things. But you don’t know how, and instead of figuring it out yourself, you’re here, asking me for some magic solution to make it all better." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Incroyable."

Theodore stiffened. He deserved that. He knew he did. But the weight in his chest didn’t ease.

Adrien watched him for another long moment, then sighed, his frustration fading just slightly. "You want an answer? Fine. Here’s the truth. You don’t just tell someone you care; you show them. It’s not about words— it’s not about grand apologies or empty promises. It’s about actions."

Theodore stayed silent, absorbing his words.

Adrien’s gaze sharpened. "And you’re not just competing with me. You’re competing with yourself. The version of you she remembers - apparantly the only one she knows. The version of you that made her feel like she wasn’t enough. She needs to see that you’ve changed, not because you’re scared of losing her, but because you want to be better—for her, yes, but also for yourself."

Theodore’s throat felt tight. He had spent so long convincing himself that the problem was Adrien, that it was about who she was spending time with now, that he had ignored the real issue: himself.

Adrien sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "Look, I don’t like you," he said bluntly. "Not after what you put her through. And honestly? I wasn’t sure what kind of person you were. I’ve heard things—seen the way you act. I figured you were just another pureblood Slytherin with nothing real to say. But…" He hesitated, then gave a small shrug. ""She cares about you. For some stupid reason, she does. And because of that, I have to at least try to believe you can be better. But if you don’t—if you mess this up again—I’ll make sure there’s no coming back from it. She means a lot to me, Nott. She’s important. And if you sorting your shit out means she’ll be happy, then fine, I’ll entertain this. But if you hurt her again? I’ll personally make sure you never get the chance to fix it.""

Theodore exhaled, the weight of it settling deep in his chest. "And how do I do that?"

Adrien smirked, though there was a sharp edge to it. "Alright, Nott, let’s break this down. What exactly have you done so far to show her you’ve changed?" He leaned his head back over the bench, waiting. "Go on. Impress me."

Theodore hesitated. "I… talked to Astoria. And Draco. And I—" He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I bought her stuff— apology stuff to show her I thought of her too..."

Adrien let out a slow, dry laugh. "Oh, merveilleux. Let me guess—flowers? Jewelry? Maybe a book she already read three times over?" He clutched his chest dramatically. "Mon dieu, Nott, how could she possibly resist such a display of heartfelt remorse?"

Theodore sat there in silence.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "And you—really—thought that would fix everything? Just throw a bunch of gifts at her and hope she magically forgets how much you hurt her?" He let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Brilliant plan, Nott. Truly inspired. Nothing says 'I understand my mistakes' quite like expensive shit."

Adrien exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "Tell me, did you even put any thought into it? Or did you just grab whatever looked fancy and hope it would do the talking for you? Because if you think that stacking a pile of presents in front of her like some pathetic shrine to your guilt is going to fix anything—mon dieu, you’re even more clueless than I thought."

Theodore clenched his jaw. "That’s not—"

Theodore looked away, his grip tightening at his sides. The worst part was that Adrien wasn’t wrong.

Adrien sighed, rubbing his temple. "You don’t buy forgiveness, Theodore. You don’t hand her a pile of gifts and expect her to believe you suddenly care. If anything, that just proves you don’t get it. If you want her to see you’ve changed, then you actually have to change." Not just panic and start running to everyone around her hoping they’ll do the work for you. You need to show her—through your actions, not just whatever self-pitying monologue you’ve got running in your head."

Theodore swallowed hard. "And how do I do that?"

Adrien’s smirk returned, but this time, it was less mocking. "Now that, mon ami, is the real question."

The sheets were too warm. Or maybe not warm enough. Every time you tried to settle, your thoughts seemed to slip between the covers with you, circling your mind like an endless, insomniac spiral. It had been like this for days. You rolled over for the fifth time, trying to bury your head in your pillow and ignore the feeling clawing at your chest—frustration, loneliness, the unrelenting ache of missing something you weren’t sure you could have anymore.

You turned again, staring at the shadows that crept along the stone walls of the dormitory, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the tall windows. Sleep wasn’t coming. It hadn’t come in a while.

Your fingers, cold despite the warmth of your blankets, brushed over the edge of your nightgown. Barefoot, you swung your legs off the side of the bed, toes brushing the cool stone floor. The chill hit you like a breath of wind. You stood, the muscles in your legs stiff from lying still for too long, and tugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders.

A quick glance around the room showed no one else awake. Of course, no one else would be—most of the Gryffindors could sleep through anything. But you weren’t like them. Not tonight.

You moved as quietly as possible, pulling your cardigan tighter, but your bare feet met the cold floor with every step, making you wince. You could feel the stone floor beneath your feet, rough and unforgiving, as if each step was a reminder of how disconnected you felt, how off-balance everything seemed lately. The distance between you and the others felt wider with each step you took. Even the castle seemed cold and distant.

Your thoughts circled back to him—Theodore. Even now, after all that had happened, he was still a presence in the back of your mind, unwanted and persistent, like the cold drafts you could never seem to escape. You weren’t ready for anything between you two, not yet, not with all the unsaid things and the space that had grown between you.

Your footsteps echoed softly through the empty halls as you navigated the winding corridors of the castle, your breath a faint mist in the cold air. The walk, though short, seemed to take forever. You had been making this journey for days now, finding solace in the familiar warmth of the kitchens, a place where time seemed to slow down and the usual chaos of Hogwarts didn’t quite reach you. It was just you, and the promise of something warm—something comforting that didn’t require explanation.

The flickering torchlight on the walls illuminated your path, but the shadows of the corridors seemed to stretch endlessly in front of you, like the miles of unspoken words and unfinished conversations between you and Theodore. The thought of him made your stomach churn in the quiet stillness of the castle, but still, you walked. You had to.

When you reached the kitchens, the door creaked as you nudged it open, the sound sharper in the silence of the night. The faint smell of baked goods lingered in the air, mixed with the faint scent of warm milk, a comfort that almost made you forget why you’d come. You stepped in, the door falling gently closed behind you, and your eyes immediately sought the familiar space—the cupboards lined with ingredients, the shelves stacked with cookbooks, the little stove in the corner that you’d grown to love over the years.

Then you froze.

There, standing over the counter, was Theodore.

At first, you thought you’d imagined him, the shadows playing tricks on your eyes, but no, there he was. Theodore, his hair slightly messy from sleep, his eyes bloodshot, and an array of failed attempts strewn across the counter in front of him. Empty mugs sat in a sad pile, some clearly broken, others just abandoned, alongside half-opened packets of hot chocolate powder and bits of chocolate bars that had already started to melt.

Your heart skipped a beat, a strange, sudden mixture of anger and confusion tightening in your chest. Of all places, here. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run or stay. Maybe both. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, cold stone against bare skin, the weight of the situation too much to bear.

You blinked, suddenly self-conscious of your bare feet, the cold air seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Your mind was racing—what was he doing here? Why tonight, of all nights? And why this?

Theodore froze at the sound of your steps, his hands hovering over the mess. He stepped back, raising his hands in a motion you knew all too well. “I—I wasn’t trying to invade your personal space or anything,” he muttered quickly, glancing over at you with wide eyes. “I just... well, I know how much you like hot chocolate, and I thought I could... I mean, if you want, I can leave, but I wasn’t trying to—” He trailed off, looking flustered.

The words hit you like a cold wave, leaving a strange, hollow ache in their wake. His presence here, in this moment, felt like an intrusion. You hadn’t asked for this. You hadn’t asked for him to come and try to fix things when there were still so many pieces of the puzzle missing, so many things left unsaid.

Your heart thudded in your chest, your wariness a familiar weight in your stomach. You didn’t respond immediately, unsure how to handle his sudden presence—especially given the quiet, unresolved tension between you. You didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, not here. You weren’t sure if you were ready for any of it.

Theodore took another step back, as if to give you space, but his eyes flickered to the counter. “I—I didn’t mean to make a mess. It’s just, well... I’ve never made hot chocolate quite like this before, apparently.” His voice was almost sheepish, as if embarrassed by the sight of all the failed attempts. The mess on the counter felt like a metaphor for everything that had happened between you two—disastrous, messy, and something neither of you knew how to fix.

Your eyes fell on the spilled milk, the chocolate that was now a mess on the counter, the empty mugs—each a reminder of how much he was trying. For a moment, you were torn between the nagging frustration that you still felt for him and the sudden realization that this, this, was a side of him you hadn’t expected to see. And despite yourself, you felt a small crack in the wall you’d built around yourself.

Theodore sighed, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not trying to make things weird. Really. I just... I wanted to make it right.” He glanced at you again, his voice softer now. “You’ve been having a lot of... sleepless nights, haven’t you? I thought you might like this.”

For a second, there was a pause. The words hung between you like a fragile thread, neither of you willing to break the silence. The warmth in his voice didn’t match the cold in your chest, but it did something to you—softened the edges just enough for you to acknowledge how much you missed this. Missed him. But you couldn’t let that show. Not yet.

And in that silence, it almost felt like you were both standing in a space that didn’t quite belong to either of you, a place full of warmth, but also memories that were still too fresh.

You stared at Theodore, uncertainty gnawing at you. The kitchen was quiet again, save for the small sounds of his failed attempts, the clink of mugs and the soft, almost imperceptible hiss of milk being heated for another round. The awkwardness of the moment threatened to swallow you, and yet, there was something in his eyes—something familiar—that made you hesitate before retreating.

Finally, you asked, your voice low but sharp. "What are you doing here?"

Theodore blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He looked up, almost embarrassed, and fumbled with the mess on the counter. "Making hot chocolate," he said with a little shrug, like the answer should be obvious.

You shook your head, stepping closer, arms crossed over your chest. You weren’t going to let this go. "Theodore, why are you here?"

For a moment, Theodore just stood there, staring at the ingredients strewn across the counter. He seemed to lose himself in the mess, eyes flicking to the various packets of powder, the chocolate bars, the spilled milk. And then, as though pulled from some deep place within him, his voice was quieter when he spoke again, but no less meaningful. "You used to call me Teo," he said, almost to himself, as if the words were a soft confession.

You felt your chest tighten at the sound of the nickname, the one that had always seemed to carry weight with it. Teo. It was the name you’d whispered to him in a thousand different contexts: while studying, while making coffee, while talking about anything and everything. It had always been a small, simple thing, but hearing it now, in the thick of all this silence, made your heart feel heavy.

"Used to," you said quietly, your voice betraying the fragility you were trying to hide. "But that was a long time ago. It doesn’t—" You stopped yourself, unsure of what you wanted to say. It didn’t matter, but it did. You didn’t know how to untangle your feelings.

Theodore was standing still now, and his gaze was steady, meeting yours. The apology hadn’t come yet, but the way he looked at you made it clear he knew he owed one.

“I thought... I thought I could fix it,” he continued, the words spilling out now like he couldn’t hold them in any longer. "You remember fifth year? When you’d make me hot chocolate while we were studying for hours? You always insisted on putting all that extra sugar in it—whipped cream, marshmallows, the whole thing. I hated how sweet it was, but it was just... the way you made it, you know?" He chuckled softly, but the sound was laced with a touch of bitterness. "And I never had the heart to tell you. I just—well, I’d drink it anyway because you were the one making it. It just... felt like something we did together. Even if it was stupid and small, it was... something."

His voice faltered for a moment, and you could see him struggling to collect his thoughts, the words piling up in his mind. He shook his head as if trying to make sense of the mess, but nothing came out right.

"I guess," he continued, his tone quieter now, more serious, "I thought if I could do something like that again—if I could make you hot chocolate—maybe it would mean something. Maybe it would be enough for you to understand that I... I didn’t mean to mess things up. I know I did. I know I did. But I thought, at least... this... this would be a way to show you that I’m sorry. I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t think of anything else."

The words hung in the air, thick with all the things he hadn’t said, all the things you both had buried under silence and time. His hands hovered over the spilled milk, and for a moment, he seemed lost, his expression tense. You could tell he was trying, but there was no easy way out of this. No easy apology.

“I never thought I’d end up like this,” he continued, his voice thickening. "I know this doesn’t make up for what happened. It doesn’t fix anything. But... I thought, if I could at least do this—if I could make the hot chocolate you always made for me—that maybe it would be enough. At least... at least it would show you that I care."

There was so much emotion in his words—so much regret, so much rawness—that it made you want to look away, but you couldn’t. Your chest tightened, and the lump in your throat grew, because you didn’t know what to feel anymore. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t enough. That it couldn’t be fixed with something so small. But you were frozen, unsure of how to say it without everything else falling apart.

Finally, you spoke, your voice shaky, betraying the turmoil inside. "It’s not enough," you whispered. "Hot chocolate... doesn’t fix everything, Theodore."

He nodded, his eyes flicking down to the counter, avoiding your gaze. "I know," he said quietly. "I know. I just... I wanted to try."

The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy, but not entirely unpleasant. The words weren’t enough, not yet, but maybe there was a chance now. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something different.

The silence between you both felt different now. It wasn’t the oppressive silence of anger, but something quieter, more fragile. The air between you was thick, as though you could almost reach out and touch the distance that had always been there, but never this much. You could hear the soft hiss of milk heating on the stove, the clink of Theodore’s spoon stirring his latest attempt at hot chocolate—sounds that should have felt comforting, familiar, but instead, they only made the room feel colder.

You wanted to break the silence. You needed to. But the words felt stuck somewhere deep inside you, tangled in all the hurt and frustration you’d been carrying for so long. You had no idea how to untangle it all. It was easier to stay silent. Easier to keep your distance.

Your eyes stayed focused on the floor, avoiding his. Because if you looked at him, even for a second, you weren’t sure what you’d do. You could feel the anger still simmering beneath your skin, but there was something else, too. Something you couldn’t name. The ache in your chest grew heavier, but you couldn’t let yourself give in. Not yet.

For a moment, you just stood there, your arms still crossed, trying to gather the strength to speak. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. "I’m not saying it’s fine. It’s... it’s not. What you did... it really hurt, Theodore." The words felt like they came from someone else, but you knew they needed to be said. "I don’t forget things like that. It still hurts."

You could hear Theodore’s breath hitch in the quiet, and you knew he could feel every word in the depths of his gut. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was, you were still hurting, too.

He stayed still, his eyes fixed on you, like he was afraid that if he moved or spoke, he’d make things worse. His mouth opened, then closed, like he couldn’t quite figure out what to say next. You didn’t give him a chance to respond. You couldn’t bear to hear another apology that felt empty.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the weight of everything you'd been holding back felt too much to ignore anymore. “I don’t forget things like that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with the truth of it. “I don’t forget how easily you pulled away, how much it hurt when you didn’t seem to care about me at all. I didn’t expect it to be so easy for you to just move on.” Your throat tightened with the bitterness you couldn’t quite swallow, and you hated how raw you sounded, but it was too late to take it back. “I didn’t think you would just... leave me like that."

"But, Theodore..."

The moment hung there, suspended in time, and you felt the rawness of everything you’d been holding inside finally bubble to the surface. You didn’t know if you could fully forgive him yet, but you weren’t sure you wanted to close the door on this... whatever it was.

You exhaled slowly, as if each breath took a little more of your resolve with it. "I don’t know what you expect me to say,” you murmured, your voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of everything you couldn’t say before. “It’s not just about the words you’ve said or the things you’ve done... it’s more than that. You can’t just make a grand gesture and think it’ll fix everything." You shifted your weight, suddenly unsure of how to make the rest of it come out right. "I... I need to see that this is something you actually care about. Not just in one moment, but over time. You’ve got to show me you can do more than apologize."

Your throat tightened as you struggled to keep yourself steady. "I don’t know if I’m ready to just... forget everything. Maybe I’ll get there, but not right now. I need to see if you really mean it... and I need more than just words."

You closed your eyes for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, the silence wrapping around you like a second skin. It was terrifying. Letting yourself feel all this again. Letting him see the parts of you that you’d buried for so long. But you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t just apologizing to make it easier. He was really trying.

"I’m willing to let you try," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "But don’t let me down again."

Theodore was still. His entire body was taut, like he was waiting for something—your rejection, maybe. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, even if his words were tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. "I won’t," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "I won’t let you down again. I promise. I... I’ll show you, every day—I’m serious about this."

Your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t enough yet. But there was something real in the way he spoke, a sincerity you hadn’t seen in him for so long. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him, even just a little.

Theodore took a step toward you, but he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to move closer. He opened his mouth to speak again, his voice low. "I’m guessing... you’re still not going to tell me how to make the hot chocolate, are you?"

It was the first time in hours that you let a smile slip through. It was small, but it was real—an actual smile, not one you’d forced. "You’ve got to figure that part out on your own, Teo."

He laughed softly, the sound filled with relief and something lighter than the tension that had been hanging between you both. And in that laugh, you could hear the promise. Not that everything would go back to the way it was, but that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new. Something different.

You didn’t have all the answers, and neither did he. But for the first time in a long while, you felt like you didn’t have to do this alone. And that was enough to let you take the first step, even if you weren’t sure what would come next.

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wolfhardxmoon · 1 year ago

Text

In more ways than I’ve ever been able to tell you

summary: You and Sirius are best friends and flatmates. You’re also in love with each other. Too bad neither of you has admitted that to the other. When you decide to move out because you can’t take the unrequited love anymore, feelings come up and come out.

tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, angst, reader gender not specified, implied marauder!reader

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader word count: 2.6k

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Sirius said as you avoided his gaze while you tidied up your shared kitchen just after dinner. You’d been off all evening, for a few days in fact, and it was driving him mad. You told each other everything. You had since you were eleven and had become best friends during your first year at Hogwarts and still did so now that you were flatmates in your post-school days.

“It’s nothing really. Not a big deal.” “Nothing? or nothing big? C’mon, just tell me what’s giving you wrinkles.”

“I do not have wrinkles!” “Well you don’t now, but you will soon with how scrunched up your pretty face has been all night,” he laughed as he reached over to you and smoothed the skin in between your furrowed brow with the pads of his fingers.

You glared at him, but the coldness was lost in how quickly you melted into his touch. In one smooth motion, he moved his fingers across your eyebrow, running a strand of hair behind your ear, then letting his hand rest easily where your shoulder and neck met. His thumb lightly caressed your jawline.

“So? You gonna tell me what it is or…” “Like I said, Pads, it won’t be a big deal for you… It’s just… Well… The thing is, Siri… I’m kind of… moving out.”

He froze instantly, hand going stiff mid-caress. After a beat of silence, he let out a single disbelieving scoff.

“Ok, well, at least now I know this is some kind of ridiculous joke.” “What?” you asked, voice softer than it had been mere moments ago when you had finally confessed what you hadn’t had the heart to tell him all week since you’d made your decision. It’d been spurred by a conversation with Remus. You had been crying softly on his shoulder after a session of his comforting you about your unrequited feelings toward one infuriatingly charming, unfailingly kind, grey-eyed flatmate / best friend. Nothing new there. Remus had been your rock since your early school days when you gradually realized you loved Sirius a bit differently than you loved Remus or James. Remus, being the annoyingly observant, empathetic boy he was realized it too. Though you were initially mortified when one evening in the library he looked up at you from his book and casually asked, “Are you in love with Padfoot?,” you soon came to be eternally grateful to have such a wonderful friend to confide in. You knew that you would have never told him, or James, about your feelings had he not guessed them himself — not because you were afraid to admit them as much as because you didn’t want to put them in a difficult position given he was one of their best mates as well.

Last week, when you’d decided to move out of yours and Sirius’s flat, Remus had kindly but firmly told you things would never get any easier if you never gave yourself space to be you without being you and Sirius. You knew it was true, had known it for years, but being without Sirius always seemed like an unthinkable proposition. It would have been almost funny had it not been so disturbing.

Sure, it hurt like hell every time you saw him with someone else, or every time either of you said “I love you” and your heart broke a little bit at how differently two people could mean the same three words. But even still, that came with all the good things about being Sirius Black’s best friend. It came with the nights of so much laughter you both ended up crying and clutching your sides, creating inside jokes that would become staples of your interactions for years to come. It came with the nights of holding each other after Sirius had had a nightmare about his childhood and come tiptoeing into your room, reduced to the boy you had first fallen in love with. It came with the nights of you holding on to him for dear life, a life you felt more intensely than ever in those moments, as he sped through the skies on the flying motorbike you had helped him perfect the charms for during countless days and nights. But, at some point, the moments of hurt had started catching up to the moments of joy, and recently, there were even times when they surpassed them.

Now, here you stood in your little kitchen, waiting for him to explain how the hell the hardest decision of your life so far was a ridiculous joke.

“Well, you can’t be serious.” You waited for him to make his overplayed, yet somehow still charming quip about how you couldn’t be Sirius because he was Sirius, but it didn’t come. Instead, he went on, mouth in a smile but eyes mirthless, “You can’t be serious because saying that my best friend in the entire world leaving would be ‘no big deal to me’ is probably the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard… and I spent seven years rooming with Prongs, so I’ve heard plenty.”

“I didn’t mean… I just thought that… I’ll still come over…”

“Oh? You’ll visit every now and again? Alright, then, how silly of me! You were right! I probably won’t even notice you’re gone!” he sarcastically interrupted your rambling, arms flailing about.

“Sirius…”

Your voice broke on the single word, and you had to swallow quickly to keep the lump down in your throat. You felt the first tear make its way down your burning cheek.

The frantic look that had come into his eyes dissipated at the sight of you. His next breath was slow, the exhale particularly loud.

“Darling, I’m sorry… I… I didn’t mean to be such a prick, I’m just confused.” He stepped closer to you again, hands coming up to your shoulders, eyes searching yours. “Why do you want to go? Did I do something? If it’s something I did, I can change it, really, I can, I know I can be a pain to live with sometimes, but I’ll put in more effort.” Silly suggestions about cleanliness and noise levels and cooking started racing out of his mouth as he looked at you pleadingly. You were desperate to comfort him. To tell him the truth.

“No,” you’d say, “No, Sirius, you didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re not a pain to live with. I’m just absolutely madly in love with you, and I have no chance of getting over it if I stay so close. So close to you, so close to everything I want with you, the life we have together but just that little bit more…” Instead, you opted for a pathetic, “No, Pads, it’s not your fault. It’s me,” and you cringed immediately at hearing the words come out in a voice you were struggling to recognize as your own.

“What about you?” he asked, his voice impossible not to recognize as so completely and entirely his — musical almost, even in its sadness, strained yet still gentle.

The question had his mind reeling, everything about you he loved, everything about you that annoyed him but that he wouldn’t trade for the world if it meant having you close. He had finally come to accept your place in his life — a slow process especially in his younger days. His family life had made him wary of dependency, wary of love… but you had taught him how to love — how to give it, how to accept it. James and Remus, too, certainly had played their part in giving him what he previously never thought he’d have: a family. But you, you were his air. He’d be lying if he said he never wondered what it would be like to be romantic with you. But in his school days, he was much too afraid he’d royally fuck things up and quickly proceeded to push those feelings so far down that he could (usually) pretend they weren’t there. You were too good for him anyway, he thought, you deserved someone better. And yet, even the thought of you with someone else had gotten more and more unbearable with each passing year. And the thoughts of you with him in ways you hadn’t been before… well, it was a good thing you weren’t a Legilimens…. especially late at night when you’d lay your legs across his lap as you read on the sofa, his hands coming down to slowly stroke up and down your thighs… or when he felt those same thighs tight on either side of him as you held on behind him on his motorbike, the wind rushing past you, your screams and laughter in his ears even more invigorating than the sharp drop below.

The idea that he could be losing you now terrified him in a way he never had been before in his life.

“I need a change,” you whispered.

“Then we’ll both move,” he said immediately, “Where do you want to go? I’ll go anywhere with you. You want a house? How about a cottage on a beach somewhere? That’s a change from a city flat, right? Or, we could get a dog? That’ll definitely be different. I won’t lie; I’ll probably have to work on not being jealous of not being the only pup in the house, but I can make it work, love, if that’s what you want.” You had started laughing in spite of yourself, in spite of the tension of the situation. Sirius had a way of doing that, of making even the worst moments better, of making moments you dreaded moments you wouldn’t trade for anything after he put his mark on them.

“Siri, I don’t want a dog,” you giggled. “…another dog,” you amended cheekily, and he smiled his first real smile in response. “A beachside cottage does sounds lovely, but I think the isolation would be quite the opposite of what I need unfortunately.”

“Then what do you need, darling?” he implored, expression solemn again.

You didn’t know how to tell him. You didn’t know what to tell him. You couldn’t tell him the truth, but you couldn’t think of a lie that would account for the fact that what needed changing involved him so intimately.

Because you were coming up absolutely blank, your mouth resorted to clichés again without bothering to ask your brain’s permission. “I need space,” you said. “Space?” Sirius looked thoughtful, like he was exhausting himself with the effort of finding a solution for you. “Space from what?” After you didn’t say anything for a long, horrible moment, he continued, his tone begging you to correct him, “Space from me?”

“No, not from you.” You paused. “From us, I suppose.” “Us?”

“Yeah…” “Somehow I think that’s worse, love. At least if it was just that I was a twat, I could work on it, but here you are telling me it’s the best thing in my life that’s the problem in yours.” He attempted a little laugh at the end to lighten the sentiment but failed miserably, the utter dejection apparent in his face, his voice, his demeanor.

You were gutted. You couldn’t handle hurting him like this. Being the cause of that look on his face was one of the worst feelings you’d ever experienced and perhaps the only thing that could have pushed you to finally be as brave as you should have been from the beginning. If your feelings for him made him angry or made things weird, at least you could get through it. You trusted him enough to know that. The fear of rejection was nothing compared to the fear of letting him go on believing your relationship was a problem, wasn’t the best part of your life as well.

You flung your arms around his neck, buried your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him with a viselike grip and breathing him in as you gathered the courage to plunge past the point of no return. He returned your embrace, confused but comforted, and equally as desperate as you.

“I love you,” you said, trying to explain. “I love you, too,” he replied, unsure what something so thoroughly obvious, so utterly true had to do with what was going on, what was threatening to upend him.

“In more ways than I’ve ever been able to tell you… deeper ways than I’ve ever been able to admit to you…” you went on, pulling back from your hug only enough to look him in the eyes as you said this. “And it hurts so much sometimes, Siri, I don’t think I can take it forever — being in love with you, I mean. At this point, I’m pretty sure I will be, because Godric knows I’ve tried long and hard not to, but I’ll have no chance of moving on if I stay completely immersed in you.”

“Don’t.” He said it firm, certain.

“Don’t what?” “Don’t move on. Don’t move out. Stay here, with me, because as much as you could possibly love me, trust me, y/n, I’ll match you every bit of it. And forever sounds pretty good to me then, don’t you think?”

The brightness in his eyes was blinding and yours had started crying again without your noticing when exactly, but it didn’t matter as you nodded your head madly.

He laughed, holding you tighter, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yeah?” he took a tiny break in his enormous smile to ask.

“Yeah,” you responded, “yeah, yes, definitely.”

“Alright, good then,” he said, giddy. “So you’re staying. Glad that’s settled. Really had me worried there for a moment. Not very nice of you, really, messing with my emotions like that. I think maybe we should get a dog. I’m sure it’d be nicer to me than you — a proper best friend, not all of this ‘I’m leaving’ business.”

You were laughing, hard, but still managed to let out, “Pads, please, for the love of Godric, shut up now.”

“You see? This is the kind of treatment I’m talking about. You’re cruel, y/n, very cruel.” “Oh, I’m cruel?” “Wicked. Utterly wicked.” “Hm. I guess I should make it up to you then, shouldn’t I?” “Yes, I think you most certainly should.”

You giggled. You brought your hand to his nape, your fingers running through his hair. You were already incredibly close, your lips just the smallest decision away from each other. You bumped his nose with yours, and though the playful mood remained, the intensity of the atmosphere increased dramatically, the sliver of air between you heavy with anticipation.

Then Sirius did something you didn’t quite expect in that moment. He smiled. Simple, yes, but it said everything: how much he loved you, how much you trusted each other, that even though you were about to do something you’d never done before, it was still him and you, and that was everything.

You smiled back for just a fraction of a moment because then your lips were too busy kissing him to smile. You could hear him laughing, feel his chest rising and falling where it was flush with yours, as he kissed you back ardently. You shouldn’t have expected anything else from Sirius. You were already best friends; you knew how to laugh together, now you were just adding a bit more to it… and that bit was beyond imagination. His laugh finally died down as his tongue made its way between your parted lips, and in its wake, a groan rose from his chest to where your mouths were connected.

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wolfhardxmoon · 1 year ago

Note

So i was hoping to request for trope tuesday. I was thinking grumpy reader x sunshine sirius and like kinda 10 things I hate about you type storyline but obviously in your own way of course. :)

happy trope tuesday! omg i kind of adored this request, so i got a bit carried away; i hope it's not too long... it ended up being very 10 things i hate about you inspired but i just love that movie and it just kind of flowed that way... hope you enjoy!!

for my 250 Followers Writing Event!

Tropey Tuesday 🎭 trope: grumpy x sunshine, enemies to lovers-ish

pairing: Sirius Black x reader

word count: 5.9k

“C’mon, Pads, pleaaase,” James pleads for the millionth time that morning. “No. Can’t you just drop it yet? You’re starting to seriously get on my nerves,” Sirius replies, flicking ashes off his cigarette and taking another drag.

“Fucking hell. What are friends for then, huh? If not to have your back in the darkest of times?” he accuses.

“I’d hardly call taking Evans out the ‘darkest of times,’ you drama queen. I mean, you are a pretty dull date, Prongs, but don’t be so hard on yourself.” “Hilarious,” he deadpans. “But the point is there isn’t going to be a date unless her sister goes too. Their dad is mental. Thinks Lily shouldn’t be going out alone her first year at uni or something. And he’ll know if she goes; I think he can track her and Y/N’s phones or some psychotic shit like that.” “Yes, yes, you’ve mentioned it.” “Have I? Because you don’t seem to be getting it, dickhead. C’mon, I’d do it for you.” “Oh, would you? You’d go out with the most grim girl you’ve ever laid eyes on, having to worry all night she might stab you if you don’t open the door for her — or if you do actually, knowing her,” Sirius muses. “I would,” he replies certainly. “In fact, I’d do it even if I knew she would stab me. I’d take a knife for you, Black.” “Alright, easy, Prongs. I love you too, but no need to get so dramatic.”

“If you really loved me, you’d do this for me.” “You aren’t gonna let up are you?” “Not a chance.” “Fucking hell.” Sirius flicks away the butt of his cig and walks away, thinking he still had until he found you to change his mind.

You’re sitting in a courtyard outside reading, and it crosses Sirius’s mind that in the odd moments in which you didn’t look so angry, you were actually kind of… beautiful?

You’re engrossed in your book when you hear, “Hello, gorgeous.” Sirius smiles at you, taking a seat beside you, leaning close.

“Can I help you?” you shoot. “Funny you should offer,” he jests. “Yes, yes you can in fact.” You look annoyed, not amused; he’s not used to this reaction but treads on, “It would be a marvelous help actually if you’d join me on Saturday. As I’m sure you know, there’s a party. Half the uni is going, but I reckon it will be rather dull unless you’re there.” He puts on his most seductive smirk. “No, thanks.” You close your book, get up, and leave. He’s sitting there, a bit awe-struck, when he sees you simply sit back down somewhere else, in plain view of his, and continue reading.

“She’s mental,” he whispers to himself.

“I tried, Prongs. Leave it, won’t you?” he sighs exasperatedly later that afternoon.

“No, I won’t. Since when are you one to give up so easily? So she didn’t say yes right away, big deal.” “She didn’t not say yes; she said ‘no.’ Very emphatically I might add.”

“So be more charming! That usually works for you, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that earlier. Thanks, James. Thanks so much,” he says sardonically. “I tried. It’s not as if I went up to her and didn’t try to be charming.”

“If you manage to get her to the party, I will buy you that new guitar you want so much.”

Sirius freezes. Interesting.

“You can’t afford it,” he shoots. “I can.” “You’ll back out for some idiotic loophole reason.” “I won’t.” Sirius groans and goes off again.

“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” You’re lying in the grass, headphones on, eyes closed. You look serene. You don’t respond. He shifts and steps closer, accidentally shielding your face from the sun. This gets your attention.

“What?” you ask, freeing one ear from your headphone, sitting up. He clears his throat and squats down in front of you.

“I said, I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” “Oh. Didn’t hear you,” you say simply, pointing at the headphones. “Yes, I gathered.”

There is an awkward pause. It lingers.

“So…,” you say softly. “Is there something else, or…”

Bloody hell; was it just him, or did you hate everyone this much?

“What are you listening to?” he tries. “Why do you care?” you reply. You don’t sound angry, though. It comes out like a normal question; he’s just confused as to how you think it is one.

“I love music,” he says, taking a seat.

“Okay…” You look genuinely confused. “I love music too, but it doesn’t mean I give a shit what that bloke over there is listening to.” You gesture toward some guy with his headphones in too.

“Right. Well. I’m interested in music, but I’m also interested in you.” “Why?” “Are you serious?” “Do I sound like I’m joking?” “No, you sound like you’ve never had a conversation with anyone in your life.” He sounds a bit exasperated. He realizes this after the fact and internally cringes for his lack of patience, thinking it will set him back (if he’s made any progress at all) but is surprised at your lack of reaction.

“I just don’t see why you would be,” you say calmly.

He’s heard girls say similar to him many times, some out of actual insecurity, some just fishing for his compliments. Your tone is unlike any of theirs, and he’s not sure what to make of it. “You don’t see what? Why I would be interested in you?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been vaguely aware of each other for a long time; had a class together and such. You never seemed interested then.” Feeling a bit more himself again, he replies smoothly, “Did you want me to be, love?”

You groan a little.

“Oh, I was dying for it,” you say, deadpan. “You were all I thought about,” you add dramatically. “I couldn’t focus on anything all day, and at night,” you lean toward him, like you’re about to tell him the deepest secret, “I’d touch myself to the thought of you.” You make a fake-scandalized expression, gasping sarcastically, then turn away as if nothing strange had just happened, turning the volume up on your music and adjusting your headphones again. You laid back down and closed your eyes, ignoring his presence beside you.

His mind had no idea which thread to chase. It was torn between dissecting how what he thought would offend you didn’t and what he thought would charm you offended you, marveling at how easily you had just joked about your wanking, or coming up with A) a way to convince James this was not happening or… (he seemed excited at the thought) B) a way to convince you to pay attention to him. While this all churned on the surface, in the back of his mind he registered the song you were listening to, which he heard in the fraction of time between your turning it up and putting your headphones back on. He loved that song.

“How’d it go with Fender?” James asks, entering their flat and plopping down onto the sofa next to Sirius.

“With what?” Sirius looks at him as though he’s gone mad. “Fender,” he repeats, as if that clarified anything. “Okay. See, the way I see it,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “is that you can think of her as your guitar. That way you’ll want her as badly as that bloody fender and you’ll get off your arse and figure it out.” “Don’t you see how that’s a little, I don’t know, objectifying?”

“Perfect, she’s rubbing off on you already; I know how much of a feminist she is. This is great; one step closer to love.” “Love?” Sirius’s disbelief is palpable. “When did this go from a meaningless date to help you out to love?” He grimaces a bit… then he grimaces a lot — but this at his realization that it wasn’t the idea of love, or even being in love with you, that made him grimace, but the idea that that didn’t even seem like a possibility.

“She’s mental, Prongs,” he says quickly, trying to distract himself. “I have no idea what to say to her, and everything I say falls flat, or worse.” “So now you know what it’s like to not look like a demigod and just have to flash a smile to get a girl’s attention. Have you ever thought about talking to her about something she likes? or something you like even. Just not vapid lines that would work regardless of who’s on the receiving end?”

Sirius squints at him and says, “I tried that, you twat. Asked her about music.” “And she didn’t like that?”

Sirius pauses, thinking back. “I don’t know,” he responds honestly.

“Well, did she seem annoyed?” “No. Not yet.” “When did she get annoyed?” Sirius winces. “When I asked her if she’d had a crush on me when we had a class together.”

James slaps the back of his head.

A few days go by, the weekend and fated party soon approaching. Sirius is out at a retro record shop in the late afternoon, and a t-shirt with the band name and logo of the group you were listening to the other day, Greta Van Fleet, catches his attention. It’s a cool shirt. And he likes them too. He’s not just thinking of getting it as a potential conversation starter for you. Truly…

He walks out of the shop, up two records and a t-shirt.

He runs a couple errands, kills a bit of time, and heads over to the campus pub to meet James and Remus. When he walks in, he’s struck by the sight of you, sitting alone in a corner booth, a pint and a book in front of you.

James comes to greet him, and he reciprocates, trying to act natural, but as soon as he gets the chance, hoping you haven’t spotted him (he’s pretty sure; he’s barely taken his eyes off of you, so he probably would’ve noticed), he dodges to the toilets, bag in hand.

When he comes back out, James asks, “Did you just change, mate?”

“Uh, yeah. Spilled something on my shirt earlier and had a spare.” James accepts this explanation as reasonable and doesn’t spend more time on it.

They get some drinks and are met by Remus, but as James heads to an empty booth, Sirius grabs his arm and drags him in the other direction. “Let’s sit over there actually.” “Why?” “Just looks more spacious.” And grants a better view of you, he doesn’t add. James looks skeptical but follows, and the three of them settle in.

Sirius is distracted, occasionally gracing the conversation with a nod of his head or a simple “oh, yeah?”

James is so caught up in a story, he doesn’t seem to notice, but Remus, ever observant, teases, “You know, if you’d rather go sit with Evans, Sirius, we won’t be offended.” James looks over, catching sight of you for the first time, a little disappointed at which Evans it was.

“What?” Sirius replies lamely.

“Oh, come on, Padfoot. You haven’t stopped staring at her since we got here.”

“Brilliant! Another chance,” exudes James.

“Another chance at what?” asks Remus. “Sirius is taking her to the party on Saturday.” “I’m not,” Sirius interjects harshly. After a beat he adds exasperatedly, looking toward Remus, “James wants me to be taking her to the party on Saturday. That way her sister will come along too and grace him with her presence.”

“You know,” James muses, “Fender doesn’t look as scary from this far away. I reckon you should go talk to her, Pads.” “Fender?” asks Remus.

“Don’t ask,” deadpans Sirius. “Well? Go on, then,” James urges. “Relax, mate. I’ll go later; just give me a minute.”

“Are you… nervous?” “Oh, and you wouldn’t be? After she’s rejected you twice in one week?” “Oh, I definitely would be, but you? It’s shocking. This might have a few upsides beyond my date with Lily. I like seeing you flustered.” “I’m not flustered,” Sirius shoots defensively. “I’m just trying to have a drink with my mates without all the nagging, alright? Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” James jokes but has mercy on him and continues his conversation with Remus after a threatening, “We’ll come back to this” and a grin.

Sirius is watching you when the song in the pub changes. You smile a little bit, and he hates how it makes his heart flutter. When the lyrics start, your mouth moves along with them, singing under your breath, and you move a bit with the music. You look beautiful lost in your own world like that. Just then, you look up, and your eyes meet his. They widen, and you freeze, looking a bit embarrassed. He wants to look away but braves on, holding your gaze and attempting to smile in greeting. You give a strained smile in response and look down shyly. It’s a strange look on you, timid. Sirius is not surprised to find it suits you, but he is surprised to find that he misses snarky and strong on you.

You look back again as if you couldn’t help it, and he catches your glance go down toward his shirt. Yes, he thinks. God, is this how most people normally feel? He feels pathetic, trying so hard to look interesting in front of you, wondering whether you could like him. Your attention is pulled away by the arrival of your sister, and when you stand up and hug her, he sees you smile brightly for the first time. It’s blinding.

“Heads up, Prongs,” he says, not looking away from you. James follows his gaze, and his hand instinctively goes to his hair. Remus scoffs amusedly.

You both look over, and James awkwardly pulls his hand from his hair and waves at Lily. She gives a giddy laugh and waves back. She turns to you and whispers something, and you shake your head vehemently in response. You start to argue in loud whispers that are still too far away to make out, but eventually Lily just rolls her eyes, looks back over, and gestures for the boys to join you. You look furious.

James doesn’t skip a beat, grabbing his drink and heading over with a confident, “Come on then.”

He pushes Sirius into the booth on your side and slides in next to Lily, Remus sliding in after him, ending up on his other side. Lily, James, and Remus start up an easy chat, but you and Sirius stay quiet. He feels tense, his palms probably sweaty, and the feeling is quite foreign to him. He fiddles with his glass in front of him, not looking sideways at you. “Nice shirt,” you say softly.

He looks down, as if he doesn’t know exactly what shirt he’s wearing, then looks up at you, responding “thanks” in his best attempt at a casual tone. “You like them?” he adds, knowing the answer.

You nod. “A lot actually.” “Me too.” “Clearly,” you laugh a little, nodding toward his shirt, and he loves the sound of it. “Why else would you wear this shirt?’ Why else indeed.

“Yeah,” he laughs, a bit strained still but starting to loosen up.

“You seem different,” you say. Again with the directness. He needs to learn how to handle it better for future conversations. He catches himself in this thought and can’t help but register his high hopes for the existence of said future conversations.

“Do I?” “Yeah. I don’t know. You seem…” You seem a bit lost for words then finish, “like the acoustic version to your regular electric.”

His eyebrows go up, surprised at such phrasing, followed closely by the corners of his lips, intoxicated by it. He doesn’t know what to say, and for the first time, that seems like the beginning of potentially beautiful possibility instead of just an obstacle to overcome as soon as possible. He’s never been so at peace with not saying anything. He just smiles.

You smile too, and into the quiet space he’s created, whisper, “I like it.” He can’t help his smug smirk at this; he’s still himself after all, but it’s more teasing than before, and this time when you roll your eyes, you lips don’t lose their smile.

You shift a bit, listening to whatever your sister is saying then tense up suddenly. Sirius has been so distracted just watching you, he has no idea what was said that stressed you out so much. He finally pays attention to try to piece it together. “Right, Y/N?” Lily asks. “Umm,” you don’t answer. “That’s brilliant, right, Sirius?” James says now. “Sorry, what’s brilliant?” “Y/N. Going to the party Saturday,” he responds. Sirius looks inquisitively at you.

“I never said I was going,” you say, your demeanour back to its regular grumpy one. “In fact, I wasn’t planning to,” you finish with some finality. Lily leans into your shoulder, making puppy dog eyes at you. “But you’ve reconsidered just for me, right? Pleeeaasee, Y/N, pleeaasee.”

You roll your eyes and bump her off of you but don’t say anything. You opt to take a swig of your drink instead despite the four pairs of eyes still intently watching you. Sirius has the odd sensation that that somehow actually doesn’t affect you, being seen, and it fascinates him. You don’t even look like you’re considering anymore when Lily bumps your shoulder with hers and fake-whispers, “pleeeaaaseee.”

You roll your eyes again, but give in with a simple, “fine.”

“Ah!! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Lily chants, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek between her praises. You’re grimacing; James is beaming.

Saturday rolls around, and James and Sirius are finishing getting ready to go. Sirius is searching the messy living room for his leather jacket as he says, “No, mate, I’ll just meet you there.” “What are you talking about? Of course you should walk her there.” “She never said she was going with me. She just said she’d go. I don’t know why she’d expect — or want — me to show up at her flat.” “Just ask her.” “Don’t have her number.”

James takes his out of his pocket, types something, waits a moment. A ding sounds; he sends another message, and now Sirius’s phone sounds. He opens it to a text from James with your phone number. “Just asked Lily,” James says smugly. Sirius rolls his eyes and plops onto the sofa, debating, spinning his phone in his hand.

“What do I say?” “Figure it out, playboy,” James says as he goes back into his room, probably to check his hair again.

Sirius starts typing a message.

hey, Y/N, it’s sirius… how are you? What am I, fifty? he thinks to himself, shaking his head. He erases the how are you?, replacing it with lily gave james your number then james gave it to me. Fucking hell. He erases that too.

He writes, hey Y/N, it’s sirius… do you want me to come with james to get you and lily? and hits send before he can overthink it.

He tosses his phone to the side, but he can’t stop looking over at it, and his leg is bouncing up and down rapidly. He’s wringing his hands together, fiddling with his rings when his phone vibrates. He snatches it up immediately, opening it to find one word from you: sure. Good enough, he thinks, and there’s an energy to his step he didn’t have before as he grabs his jacket, saunters to James’s room, and drags him out of the flat.

As you follow Lily out the door, Sirius swallows hard. You look stunning. Lily is all made up, her face looking much more perfect than most days, her heels looking like they’ll hurt after one block. Your look is more low-key. Your eyeliner makes your eyes even more striking than usual, but you still look like yourself. You’re wearing a classic pair of converse that look cool with your long leather coat.

“Hey,” he greets when you’re standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you say back. You sway from the heels of your feet to your toes a bit then you both turn to walk behind James and Lily, who have their arms wrapped around each other and are already talking animatedly.

The first few minutes of the walk are completely silent between the two of you. Though it’s strangely not awkward, Sirius wants to talk to you, just doesn’t know where to start. He decides to just dive into the deep end. “What’s it like not caring what people think about you? Just saying what you want to say, or,” he chuckles at the current situation, “not saying anything?” You look at him seriously for a moment, considering him.

“I care what some people think about me. Just not everyone. And especially not random guys just because they’re attractive, and I’m supposed to put in some big effort to make myself attractive to them. I have better things to use, even better things to waste, my time and energy on.” You shrug.

“What’s your favourite waste of time?” he asks, grinning, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. You’re looking down in front of you, but he can see you smile.

“Um, funky question. Because I guess it’d be music. Getting high and just lying there listening to it, feeling it,” you laugh. “But that hardly seems like a waste.” You’re cheerful, and it’s addicting. Sirius laughs and says, “Hardly sounds like a waste at all. Sounds brilliant.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, still smiling. “How about yours?”

“Hm. I don’t know. Can’t just copy your answer, can I?” “Nope,” you pop.

“Damn. Well, in that case, I’ll go with just hanging out with James and Remus, not really doing much in particular.”

You nod. “Hardly sounds like a waste at all.” You smile at each other and chuckle.

When you get to the party, music is blasting, and it’s already full of people, many of whom seem to be drunk already. Sirius catches you looking around with a huge grimace on your face, and he finds it adorable. “Your favourite way to spend a Saturday night?” he asks cheekily, having to lean close due to the noise. You look at him and roll your eyes, but there’s a trace of a smile on your lips.

Several people greet Sirius, and he laughs and jokes with them. He’s clearly great at being the life of the party. You’ve already lost track of James and Lily. Hoping she’s having fun, you just hang back near Sirius, not engaging with his friends. No matter how glad he seems to see someone, though, he always comes back to you.

“You don’t have to linger, you know. I’ll be fine by myself.” “It’s everyone else I’m worried about. Given the murderous look on your face,” he laughs, though he can’t ignore the sting of the word “linger.”

You scoff but seem amused. “Besides,” he adds more quietly, “I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Okay,” he confirms happily.

As the night goes on, you actually chat more and more easily. Commentary on the DJ’s (usually subpar) performance helps. You’re laughing together, and his hopes are high that you’re having a good time. “I actually like this one,” you say, wincing in amused embarrassment when a dancey pop song comes on.

“Wanna dance?” he asks excitedly.

“Um, I’m not much of a dancer,” you admit. “That’s alright. Me neither. Fancy it anyway?”

You bite your lower lip, considering, before nodding.

He takes your hand and guides you between crowds of people to the area functioning as a dance floor. You stand close to each other, face to face, and it takes some time to get into the rhythm. Sirius finds you adorable as you cover your face with your hand, laughing at yourself. He grabs your hand, uncovering your face, and spins you. You laugh and put your other hand on his shoulder when you’re facing him again. He puts his hand on your hip, and you two move with the music, letting go. You dance a few more songs before you lean into his ear to say something. The contact shoots a thrill down his spine. “Wanna get some air? I’m getting really warm in here,” you semi-yell. He nods and grabs your hand again, walking with you out onto the quieter, emptier patio. You take a deep breath and sigh in contentment at the fresh air, leaning on your forearms on the porch ledge. You look lovely all flushed.

“What?” you ask, laughing lightly. “What?” he repeats, smiling but uncertain. “You’re looking at me funny.” He’s debating telling you the truth, telling you it’s because he thinks you’re beautiful, when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He just shakes his head casually as he goes to check it. He sees an unimportant message and just puts his phone down on the ledge in front of you both. You just stand there quietly with each other, shoulder to shoulder, and he fucking loves it. He feels at peace and excited simultaneously.

“Mind if I smoke?” he asks you, reaching into his pocket.

“Not as much as your lungs,” you retort. He gives you a “very funny” look. “I don’t mind,” you say more softly. He pulls out his cigs but keeps digging in his pockets. “Shit, forgot my lighter. Gonna go steal one from anyone I know real quick. Be right back,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his. You nod happily.

You’re standing there alone when his phone lights up in front of you.

A text from James reads, saw you sneak off with fender 👀 looks like you oughtta be grateful instead of annoyed in the end

Followed quickly by one from Remus, okay can one of you please explain the nickname now? it’s weird

James again, i promised sirius i’d buy him that fender he keeps going on about if he suffered a date with Y/N for me

Your stomach drops, and you feel like you’re going to be sick, your ears ringing with more than the after-effects of the loud music.

Sirius comes back, putting his hand on your lower back with a sweet “hey.”

You grab his phone, shove it in his chest, and seethingly say, “Fuck you, Black. Hope you didn’t have to suffer too much.” Your shoulder shoves him aggressively as you storm off.

He looks at his phone, and pure horror courses through him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he keeps repeating as he speeds after you through the crowds. He doesn’t catch up until you’re a good way down the street away from the party.

“Y/N! Wait! Please wait a second,” he calls, out of breath, as he reaches you, grabbing your forearm to try to turn you toward him. His heart shatters at the sight that meets him. You’re crying.

You yank your arm away from him and spit out, “Leave me alone.”

“Please. Please just let me explain. I wanted to be with you tonight. Please,” he pleads, walking fast to keep up with you.

“Oh, fuck off. You don’t have to keep it up anymore; your friend got what he wanted.” “It’s not like that, okay? You can ask him if you want! He’ll tell you I wanted you to come with me; he’ll tell you I like you.” “I’m sure he’ll tell me whatever you want him to, Black, but I’m really not interested. Please just leave me the fuck alone.” You start walking faster, and he stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say, and he just stands there in the middle of the road, the worst feeling he’s ever felt weighing him down to the spot.

You’re back in your flat, still crying, when your phone buzzes.

Y/N

please

can we please talk?

it’s not what you think

i really want to talk to you

please

You put it on silent and toss it away.

You wake up with puffy eyes and four missed calls from Sirius from last night and another three from this morning. You delete the notifications and go take a shower, blasting your music.

You get dressed carelessly, grab your bag, and shove your headphones on. You meet Lily in the living room on the way out, and she looks concerned. She tries to stop you, but you just say “I’m fine” and hurry out the door.

You walk to a nearby park, a favourite spot of yours, and roam around for a while, hoping unsuccessfully to drown out your feelings in the music and movement. You sit down at a bench and take out your book. After reading the same sentence about ten times, you slam it shut and shove it back in your bag. You just sit there, and you’re struggling to keep the tears away as you let yourself replay your emotions from last night. You lie down on the grass, listening to your music again and shutting your eyes tight. After a while, it suddenly gets darker behind your eyelids, and you open your eyes to see what’s blocking the sun. Fuck. You’ve got to tell Lily to stop giving your phone number and probable locations to arseholes.

Sirius is standing above you, a desperate look on his face. He squats down and grabs your hands as you move to grab your things, clearly planning to leave.

“Wait, Y/N. Please wait. I’m begging you.”

“What do you want?” you ask harshly, taking your headphones off.

“Just to talk to you. Please. Please let me apologize.” “You’ve apologized. Now leave me alone.” You turn away from him again and get up.

“No, that’s not it. I want to make things right. You have to understand.” “Understand what exactly?” “I like you. I really like you. I think about you all the time; I want to spend more time with you.” “Another instrument in it for you?” you say scathingly. “No, no, of course not. That guitar thing was stupid. Really. It was really fucking stupid, and it was before we’d ever even talked! Well, you’d said a total of six words to me, but still, I had no idea how much I’d want to keep trying to get you to give me a chance without any other incentive.” You don’t say anything, but you also don’t go to leave, and Sirius sees this as serious progress. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I was a complete and total idiot to ever even entertain the idea, but it was just a silly thing before anything else happened.” “And what exactly is it that you think happened?” Your arms are crossed, and you still look like you want to murder him.

“I saw how fucking incredible you are. And I got it in my head that the thing I want most in the world is a chance to keep seeing how incredible you are. Let’s see. What else happened? I bought a t-shirt just to get your attention; I made a fool of myself in front of my friends from how nervous I was to talk to you; I lost sleep thinking about everything you’d ever said to me, and how you’re like no one I’ve ever met; I wrote and rewrote the simplest message last night like a lovestruck idiot because I was dying for you to say you wanted to see me. Then what else? Oh, right, and correct me if I’m wrong here because this is where you come in: then I had a fucking brilliant time with you last night. I dreamt of wasting time with you, of getting to dance with you again, of making you laugh even though you’re gorgeous even when you look cross — like right now by the way — I even dreamt of sitting in silence with you for fuck’s sake.” He was out of breath by the time he finished his speech.

“How’d you know I liked Greta Van Fleet?” “What?” “I assume that’s the shirt you bought to get my attention. How’d you know I liked them?” “That’s what you’re asking me right now?” “Yes.” “Fucking hell, Y/N.” A beat. “I could hear it from your headphones that second day you blew me off.” You just nod, still looking solemn.

“You’re not,” you say after a moment.

“Not what?”

“Wrong. About last night. You know, its being brilliant. Before… well, before —”

“Before I cocked it all up with silly games I never should’ve played in the first place,” he interrupts. “Before my stomach fucking flipped at reading those messages and my heart broke at seeing you…,” he swallows the knot in his throat, “at making you cry.” He ventures a step toward you, and you don’t move away, just tighten your grip on yourself and look down. “I’m so so sorry I did, Y/N. And I’ll make it up to you if you’ll let me.” He puts a hand on your cheek, caressing you softly. His other hand comes to your arms, uncrossing them and intertwining your fingers with his. He steps a bit closer and speaks more softly as he asks, “What do you say, love?”

You stay silent for a few seconds then say, “Okay.” He scoffs in relief and disbelief, chuckling.

“I just poured my heart out to you, and all you say is ‘okay’?”

“Yes,” you say, but after a second, a subtle smile lightens your features. He barks a laugh.

“I’ll take it,” he says, kissing your forehead. He lingers there a moment, still caressing your cheek, his lips hovering at your hairline, and when he leans back, he stays very close to your face, looking down at your lips. You push your chin up, bringing your faces even closer together. He smiles at this and closes the shrinking gap.

Your kiss tastes like possibility, and as Sirius shifts, deepening it, he’s not surprised to find your tongues fall into rhythm with each other as easily as your bodies did on the dance floor last night.

You clutch his jacket, pulling him closer as he envelops your mouth with his, the warmth of it coursing from where you’re connected down through your entire body.

He leans his forehead against yours when you break apart. He gives your nose a peck then, your fingers still intertwined, says, “So. What do you want to do now?” “I don’t know.” Not letting go of his hand, you grab your stuff and start walking with him. “Maybe we can waste time. Or sit in silence.” He squints at you.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“Yeah, a little bit, yeah,” you grin guilty.

He’s laughing, shaking his head, as he sarcastically says, “We’ll see when I make the effort of giving you another romantic speech.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” you say, squeezing his hand and kissing his cheek.

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wolfhardxmoon · 1 year ago

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BLUEFIN TUNA.

— Jotaro Kujo x Female Reader.

“Shut up, jack face! ”

“That doesn't even make sense, dumbass! ”

Status: Ongoing!

Comedy, romance, sfw, fluff, Jotaro is bad at feelings.

main m.list

NOTES —

This fic was originally written to be on Wattpad but I thought why not post it here as well!

Go check out my Wattpad account! @/reyzsugar.

☆ This fic contains; adult jokes, curse words, insults, 3rd person pov, and errors. If you don't like those, you may leave and find another fic to your liking!

CHAPTERS —

01: TUNAS ARE DUMB.

02: ORANDA FISH.

03: KUJO, THE BLUE TANG.

04: CIGARETTES... AND FISH.

05: MEMORIES AND SKETCHES.

06: GOLD FISH?

07: SICK OF YOUR BULLFISH.

08: PEACEFUL OCEAN AT LAST.

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wolfhardxmoon · 1 year ago

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Help

guysss, I need a Sirius black x reader fanfic. But is enemies to lovers

#sirius black

0 notes

wolfhardxmoon · 1 year ago

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when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

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wolfhardxmoon · 1 year ago

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Realistically if Mattheo Riddle is Voldys son he would be in the Marauders era but y'all arent ready for that conversation yet

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wolfhardxmoon · 2 years ago

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White lie - Incubus! Jotaro x Reader NSFW | Part 1

Guess who’s not dead 😏 So uh, I’ve been working on this for a long time. Enjoy the depravity :3

CW: Corruption(attempt), monsterfucking

Word Count: 7925

Heavily breathing, your back was plastered to the thick and cold stone wall, your eyes wide as you clutched your hands at your heart, a feeble defense from what was in front of you.

The man - no, creature - skulked in front of you, his eyes calculating and slightly devious.

When he’d come up to you before, you just thought he was in costume for Halloween, just like you were - spouting honeyed words, whispering appealing promises in your ear; just another partygoer who seemed to have the same interests as you. But once he took you aside, trapped you in this abandoned part of the church, you realised it was more than that. His appearance wasn’t just a costume, it was truly monstrous.

Horns sprouted from the top of his head, angled back and twisting slightly near the end. His arms up to past the elbow looked as if they were dipped in ink, ending in claws, poised and ready - for what you didn’t know. Clothes were almost fully absent from his body, save for the cloth around his waist, tied to him via a thin strap running over one shoulder. All of that was superficial though, compared to the tail slowly swishing and curling behind him, as well as the talon like feet he sported, equally appearing dipped in ink.

“You’re so scared.” The creature observed, almost tutted, and your breathing sped up even more, causing him to take a step forward. In reaction, you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for something to happen, a final blow, agonising pain, anything. What you instead got, was a clawed hand grasping your chin, tilting your head up straight. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

His fingers were warm on your skin, his grip strong as you couldn’t even move your head a millimeter. Slowly, you dared peel your eyes open, met with vibrant oceanic eyes watching your every move.

“…What do you want?” Your voice was but a whisper, a plea for your life even, too scared to speak up louder.

“You.”

His hand released your chin, his nails no longer digging into your cheeks as he instead traced the column of your neck with his index finger as his eyes followed the motion.

“M-Me? My soul?” You were breathless, feeling the sharp claw run over your windpipe, too scared to move, but the creature scoffed.

“I’m no demon. I don’t deal in souls. What I need is far more carnal.”

He had moved on to playing with the hood of your outfit, his eyes following the movements of his fingers until you spoke again. “What… what do you want then?”

“Turn away from your god and give in to me. Do that and I’ll leave you alone.”

He spoke that in all seriousness, a stoic and determined look on his face before he leaned forward, forcing you into a kiss.

You squeaked, grabbing his head as you immediately felt his tongue - way longer than it should be - slipping into your mouth that was still open from confusion and shock.

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, his hands landing on your hips as he kissed you. His long tongue ran through your mouth, curling around your own and massaging it before letting go in favour of plunging as deep as it could.

You almost felt like just a vessel to his ministrations, merely stuck to let him move his lips against yours.

Gagging softly on his tongue, he finally pulled away, allowing you to breathe.

Pulling your hand up, you launched it towards his face but right before it could make contact with his cheek, he gripped your wrist.

“That’s unbecoming of you, Sister.”

Sister? Finally his words were starting to make sense in your head. Sister, God, carnal. He thought you were an actual nun. So that means, whatever he was, he was after the church?

While you were in thought he leaned close again, forcing a little surprised noise from your throat as you pushed further back into the wall behind you.

“Let me pleasure you right here. Defile you in front of your God.”

Swallowing heavily, you were stuck looking at him. He… he wasn’t bad to look at honestly. His face was handsome even, his jawline sharp, good cheekbones, he even had pretty lashes. The longer you waited, the closer he gravitated towards you, pressing his body to yours and you placed your hands on his chest in a faux attempt to push him away, only making you blush as you felt the ridges and bumps of his abs.

It was pretty clear what he was after. Yet as you looked at him, you turned less and less afraid. If he was after a nun, maybe it wasn’t so bad to play the part. You were planning to get shitfaced anyways at the Halloween party and this was basically a one night stand, no strings attached. He said it himself that he’d leave.

“You’ll… leave after?” You asked, now partly acting though it was mostly sincere.

“I won’t step foot in this church again.”

“O-Okay.” You breathed a little shaky, nervous about what you were agreeing to.

It increased tenfold when a wicked glint appeared on his face, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. Out of nowhere, bat-like wings shot out from behind him, blocking out all light from hitting you and your eyes widened in fear. Shooting forward, the small fingers on top pinned your wrists to the wall behind you, all the while the creature lifted you up against the wall by your thighs, your face now level with his while he pressed his pelvis into yours.

“Wait-“ You panicked but a squeeze to your thigh shut you up.

“Stop squirming. They’ve been there this entire time, it’s your fault for not noticing them folded up on my back.”

“N-No, that’s not it. You’re- H-Here?!” Your breathing sped up, in fact very much lying about it not being the wings. You struggled a little, attempting to pull your wrists free, but despite the thin and flimsy look of the tiny black claws, barely fitting around your wrists, their strength was unmatched.

“No one is here, no one is coming here. Would you rather we do it in your communal hall?” There was a teasing tone to his voice and you bit your lip, closing your eyes.

You honestly would rather be in your bed at home doing this, but that would probably give away you’re not really a nun and who knows what happens then. You won’t get laid, that’s for sure. “N-No.”

“Good.” Guiding your legs around his waist, you knew what he wanted and locked them around him, pulling him closer. “Stop being so scared. There’s only one thing I’m after and you’ll like it.” He whispered that in your ear, pulling back to give you a view of his face as you blushed deeply. With that, he pushed his hands under your clothes.

- - - -

Gasping, you kept your face buried in his shoulder, trying to contain your moans as he pumped into you.

Your back was scraping against the wall but you couldn’t care less, too focused on the feeling of him inside of you. He was filling up every single part of you, his dick stretching you out beyond anything you’ve ever had.

“Please, god, f-“

“Don’t go pleading to Him now.” The creature chuckled breathily, his breathing laboured as he re-gripped the arm holding you up. “Call my name instead. Jotaro.”

Despite everything going on, you were too scared to say his name, afraid it might do more than just be his name. Noticing your silent refusal, he slammed into you harshly, forcing a moan from you before you buried your face in his shoulder again, leaving him to huff in twisted amusement.

The corruption he was enacting was only second to the pleasure for Jotaro, every moan and jolt and squeeze around his member from you feeding him.

You were taking him so well, merely moaning and holding on to him like a good kitten and slowly but surely, the incubus fell addicted.

Every time he pushed his hips to yours, every time he pulled back only to bottom out again. Your body’s little jolts, the way you were drooling into his skin, how your arms struggled to break free from his wings, your fingers twitching to grab something. All of it was gathering in a warm pit in his stomach, his laboured breathing turning to panting. He’d never felt anything like this before.

Thrusting faster, your slick dripped down from how wet you were and finally he released your wrists. Instantly, your hands shot forward to hug around him, your nails digging into his back with one hand while the other shot into his hair, quickly latching onto a horn and pulling.

Forced to angle his head backwards by your pulling, a snarl left him, exposing the sharper canines he sported, all the while his wings wrapped around your back, softening the friction against the wall as you were pulled even closer.

“I can’t-!” You begged, curling your toes as you slowly reached the orgasm you had been trying to stave off for so long.

“Let go. Give in to me.” Jotaro growled, his hips snapping into yours and with that you couldn’t take it.

You came hard as you put your hand in front of your mouth to muffle yourself, pulling his horn back. Jotaro growled as you did, not slowing his thrusts down in the slightest as he fucked you through your orgasm.

And it wouldn’t be for another two before he reached his own peak, spilling deep inside of you with a satisfied groan while you were an exhausted mess, slumped against him.

Panting to catch his breath, the incubus released one hand from you to slick his hair back between his horns before wrapping it back under your ass, still buried balls deep within you, his spend starting to leak out.

“F…uck.”

Chuckling briefly at your profanity muttered into his skin, Jotaro sliced through the material covering your neck, nosing at your now exposed skin as he softly pressed kisses to it, latching on not long after and sucking his mark.

You whimpered a little and just to be cruel, the fiend pinched your clit, making you clench around the flesh still buried inside.

“Not so bad, was it?” He hummed after letting go, satisfied to see the large bruise forming.

Not getting an answer, the creature huffed a bit in annoyance. Did he really fuck your brains out that much?

Unfurling his wings from you, he folded them to his back, letting your legs down from his waist as he slowly sat you back on your legs. “Stand on your own now, come on.” Following his command, you shakily put your weight back on your legs instead of hanging on him, a little whine leaving you when the incubus dragged his cock out of you. “Don’t worry.” He hummed, his hands making their way under your dress before it could fall down in order to grasp your panties, swiftly pulling them up and snug to your hips. “You’re going to carry around my cum for a little while longer.”

True to his word, you could feel your panties getting soaked with his spend as it leaked out of you, yet the thick, frothy substance was unable to go anywhere with how tightly the devil had pulled your panties up.

“Take those off before the day is done and our agreement is off. I want you to feel your sin.” Jotaro stepped closer to you, pinning you to the wall with his body. “Feel as it settles here-“ His hand placed on your stomach, a blush making its way on your tired face. “-Feel how I have claimed you, here.” His hand slid down, instead sliding back and forth over the flat of your soaked panties, before pushing when he glid over your entrance, lightly pushing his finger inside you, panty and all. “Understood?”

“Under-Understood.” You swallowed, a calm washing over the incubus before you as he cupped your face suddenly. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours and - though surprised - you closed your eyes, kissing back.

His hand retreated from your face and once his lips moved away and you opened your eyes, he was gone.

- - - -

The rest of the night, you stood in the corner. You felt like the scum of the earth. Not only did you have sex in a church, you had sex in a church with what you could only describe as a minor devil. And now you were standing in said church, the devil’s cum stuffed in you, leaking into your panties.

You had to lie to everyone who asked about the tear in your costume by your neck and the bruise behind it, saying your costume got caught and you accidentally ripped it open.

Once it was finally time to go home, you never walked home so fast. It was 1am by the time you got there, closing your door behind you and slumping into it, sliding to the floor.

“Fuck…” You groaned, kicking off your shoes before taking off the nun hood, turning it around in your hold to look at the tear in it.

Sitting for a few seconds, staring at it, you eventually sighed deep, throwing it to the side. “Worth it.”

Getting up, you groaned as you felt the gross feeling in your panties, quickly making your way upstairs.

Lifting the costume off of yourself, you sighed in relief. It was fun, but the thing was hot and tight and getting it off finally felt like a godsend.

Standing in just your bra and your panties, you made your way to your bathroom. It was the middle of the night but you couldn’t go to sleep this filthy.

Taking off your bra, you then started reaching down for your panties, only to stop once you held the hem.

You made a deal. He told you to wear your panties until, what was it? The end of the day?

Stopping dead in your tracks, a dread took hold of you. You… couldn’t remember properly. Did he say until the end of the day or did he say a whole day? You didn’t even know what time it was when you- Should you risk it?

Pacing back and forth a bit, in the end, your panties were just getting too uncomfortable, and the thought of sleeping with it was just too much to bear.

Taking your panties off, you instantly threw them in the bin, stepping into the shower and washing all the grime and filth off of yourself before finally getting ready for bed.

Crawling inside, your head hadn’t hit the pillow for more than ten seconds before you were already asleep.

- - - -

Sighing deeply, you pushed yourself further into your pillow before sleepily blinking your eyes open.

A scream ripped from your throat as you noticed the figure standing in the dark of your room, illuminated by the moonlight, and you scrambled to get back, pushing yourself into the corner of the wall as far as you could while staying on your bed.

You were pushing back and back and back but started to slow down when you noticed the figure wasn’t moving any closer, nor saying anything.

In an action that may be stupid, you lunged over your bed towards your nightstand, clicking on the light you had there before shooting back as the room became illuminated.

“You done?”

The familiar voice made you widen your eyes and slowly look up, now properly getting his appearance. “Y-You?”

Jotaro remained silent as he looked down at you, his arms crossed over his chest, creating a contrast with the inky flesh of his arms and the normal colour of his torso.

“W-What are you doing here?” You trembled.

It had been a week. Why was he here?!

Instead of saying something, the devil leaned closer. “How about instead of ‘What are you doing here?’ you ask ‘What are you?’.” He smirked while you leaned back, your personal space invaded.

Too scared to do anything else, you obliged. “W-What are you?”

Putting his hands on the bed on either side of you, he leaned even closer until you were a small ball cowering in the corner, his torso hanging over you. “Pissed. That’s what I am.”

Your eyes widening, you started trembling, knowing he had found you out and had come for revenge.

Seeing your shaking form however, the devil rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so scared, I told you before, didn’t I? I won’t hurt you.” Pulling back, he stood up straight again, re-crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s my own fault for not noticing.”

“What?” You blubbered. “S-So, you don’t mind that I-?”

“Took advantage of the opportunity?” The devil curled his lips in what seemed like disgust, snarling a bit which made your heart speed up in fright. “Oh no, I mind that. Like I said, I’m pissed off.” He snarled further, glaring down at you before he let up, slicking his hair back between his horns again to calm himself down. “Fortunately, I like you.”

“W-We had an agreement. You said you’d leave me be. T-The fact that I wasn’t what you thought I was shouldn’t affect the deal, cause that- that was your mistake!” You awkwardly made your point and the incubus only leaned in close again, his face neutral as he looked back and forth between your eyes in silence for an uncomfortably long while.

“Clever little one, aren’t you?” He scoffed eventually before leaning back up. You sighed in relief, until you looked at his face and saw the tiniest of uptilt in his lip. “Our agreement is not off, you’re right in that. I won’t ever step foot in that church again.”

Your eyes widening, the fiend cruelly chuckled at your realisation. “What are you going to do to me?”

“To you? Nothing.” He hummed, his tail swishing behind him. “With you? Well I was hoping for another good fuck.”

“What?” You squeaked.

Huffing out in amusement, he leaned in, placing his hands on either side of you on the bed again, leaning in close until his lips were grazing the shell of your ear. “I’ve seen your thoughts- your dreams of me.” He muttered, the smirk he sported almost audible. “Don’t be annoying, stop denying it.”

“I-I never-“

“I said stop denying it.” He growled, pulling back enough to look into your eyes. Grabbing you, he instantly pulled you towards himself before turning to the left and pinning you to your bed. “I’m an incubus, you really think any lewd thought pertaining to me goes by me?”

You squeaked softly, your hands covering your chest as you noticed his tail swishing behind him in annoyance. “I’m sorry.”

Clicking his tongue, he let go of you, instead placing his hands back on the bed. “A verbal apology does nothing for me. You know what I want.”

Your breathing speeding up slightly, you looked up and down his body before swallowing nervously. “But what if I don’t want it?” You whispered and at that, the devil suddenly pulled back, his face losing its edge as he calmly looked down.

“Then I’ll wait until you do.” Calmly moving his hand, he placed it under your chin, wary of his claws as he tilted it up slightly, seemingly analysing your face. “I’m not evil, if that’s what you’re thinking. I won’t do what you don’t want.”

His sudden calm words caused a blush to form on your face, one which he saw, making him smirk a bit. “Does my kindness surprise you, Sister?”

“I’m not a nun.” You mumbled and his eyes narrowed at that.

“Good, I needed to hear you say it. Kitten then.” He calmly spoke. “Don’t mistake it for kindness. It’s general decency. Even we Incubi have certain rules we uphold.” He smirked while looking into your eyes.

“What happens if you break them?” You mumbled, your mouth a bit dry.

At that, he sat back a bit. “The high lords break us.” His tone was matter of fact and you suddenly felt uncomfortable for asking.

Suddenly, your eyes widened slightly as something started curling around your leg. Looking down, you noticed the black shape of his tail slowly snake around your calve, moving up.

“You need to make a decision soon, little one. I won’t stay on this plane forever.”

Hearing him utter those words, you looked up, straight into his eyes. “Okay. To apologise for tricking you.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up as his eyes narrowed smugly, satisfaction radiating from him as he lowered himself over you. “Good.”

With that, he tilted his head and attached his lips to yours.

There was no gentle start as he instantly moved his lips hungrily, his hands landing on your waist and squeezing as he devoured you, leaving you barely able to breathe through your nose even.

A little squeak left you, causing the devil to hum lowly, opening his eyes to gaze at you through half lidded eyes in the kiss.

Breaking apart moments after, his tongue snaked out as he swiped it over the seam of your lips, making your eyes widen as he already moved his head down, burying his face against your throat where he started marking your skin.

“Jotaro-“

“So you do remember my name?” The incubus smirked as he spoke against your throat, instantly going back to sucking and biting, all the while your heart skipped a beat in panic.

You said his name, you didn’t think. You’d been so caught up in his touch that you didn’t think before you spoke. “I-“

“Relax. I told you before; I’m not a demon. Nor am I a fae. Names have no hold or use here.” Pulling back from your neck, the devil looked into your eyes. “For someone who’s agreed to have sex for the second time, you’re awfully distrusting.”

“What do you expect?” You countered, looking away to the side, but Jotaro was having none of that as he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“I have been nothing but honest in every word I’ve said. My intentions are clear. You’re the only one resorting to trickery.”

“I-It was one thing!” You sputtered, making the creature scoff.

“Honest one out of two times, good job.” As he said that, his hand travelled down and pushed into your crotch.

Squeaking, you snapped your legs shut but the leathery wings on his back unfolded again, the small claws shooting down onto your thighs as he forced them open.

“Stay put now.” There was a mocking tone to his voice, his face lowering back to yours as his unnaturally long tongue crept out again, tracing your jawline. “Let me erase any fear you have for now.”

With those words, he slowly lowered down your body, his hands trailing down your sides where he glid his thumbs underneath your shirt, starting to hike it up.

Exposing your flesh for himself, he hummed as he put his lips on your skin, feeling the softness of it.

“If you value any of these clothes I suggest you take them off before I do.” Growling that out, the devil gently bit at your skin, allowing you to feel the sharper canines he held.

Swallowing, you obeyed and took off your clothes, Jotaro pulling back only a little bit to allow you room to do so.

The moment you pulled off your underwear, he placed his clawed hands on your legs, pushing them back down straight on the bed before letting his touch trail up, his fingerpads squeezing and taking every fiber of you in.

“You don’t know what you did to me.” Growling that out, he held the tops of your thighs, squeezing firmly, his sharp nails lightly pressing at your flesh. “We incubi feed off sex.” Breathing, he lowered his head, getting down on his stomach between your legs, his eyes locked with yours. “We need it to survive. To settle our hunger.” Slowly, he moved his hands, slipping them underneath your legs before curling up around the outside and pressing down on top again, pinning you in a stronger grip.

“Yet you, you left me more hungry than when I came in.”

With those words, he lowered his head, wrapping his lips around your cunt and pushing his tongue through your folds, teasing your clit instantly.

Gasping, you jolted your hips, but his tight grip refused you from moving even an inch. Looking down, your eyes were wide as you watched the devil’s head settle between your legs, his horns menacing and dangerous while his long tongue worked your heat. “F-Fuck-“

Huffing out in amusement, the incubus glanced up at you, his tongue not slowing down as he tasted you, your arousal coating his tastebuds and making him grow heated. He felt his tail swish every time your arousal coated his tongue, his wings twitching, begging to pin you down, feel your warmth. Everything about you made him feral.

“Jot-“ You didn’t get any further as he pushed his tongue into your entrance. Gasping out, you weren’t sure whether a moan underlined that or not but your mouth fell open as you felt the slender appendage push its way into your cunt, further and further, your face flushed as you felt how deep it went. You knew his tongue was longer than average, but this was something else entirely.

Watching your reaction closely, Jotaro felt his lips twitch before he started thrusting his tongue in and out.

One wing releasing from his back, he placed it on your thigh, keeping it pinned down while his hand was now free to stretch forward, placing itself on your pelvis. His thumb reached down to rest just above your clit and with a little pressure, he pulled the skin back taut, allowing Jotaro to slip his tongue in easier.

Moaning out, your hands were gripped tightly in the sheets of your bed, your eyes rolling back as they closed, completely focused on the feeling the incubus was giving you. His tongue, reaching so deep inside you, was pushing into every wall every time he pulled back, only to push back in just the same.

Unable to help yourself, the pleasure was slowly beginning to grow, an orgasm starting to make its way through the back of your mind and to the forefront quicker than you thought possible.

Suddenly, he pulled his tongue out completely and you opened your mouth to whine, only for that to instantly devolve into a moan when he instead wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard.

Crying out at the sharp jolt of pleasure, your hand shot down, latching onto one of his horns, quickly followed by your other hand. For a moment, Jotaro stuttered, but then he unwrapped his arm from your thigh, bringing his hand down to push two fingers into your tight cunt.

Squeezing your eyes shut, his continuous sucking on your clit had you a moaning mess, your skin turning hot as a tightening feeling pressed into your abdomen. “J-Jotaro, don’t stop-!” You begged, squeezing his horns tight, pulling his face closer to your crotch by them, yet suddenly a moan ripped from the incubus.

Your eyes shooting open in surprise, you looked down to see Jotaro staring up at you with a dark look, his lips released from your clit while his fingers continued to softly pump into you. “Careful what you touch, kitten.”

Swallowing nervously, you quickly let go of his horns, only for his left wing to shoot forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling it back to his horn, making you wrap your hand back around it. “What?”

“You’ve started it now, you can’t let go.” He whispered huskily, his eyes drilling into yours in a way that made you clench around his fingers.

Humming at the feeling, he started to scissor the digits, pumping them in and out of you for a moment before he leaned back down, wrapping his tongue around your clit in a flexibility that made you whimper before he enveloped the bud in his lips again, sucking while his tongue moved, squeezing and rocking your clit gently.

Your back arching, your hand automatically tugged on his horn again, earning a growl from the man that sent vibrations bursting into your gut, a heat creeping up your neck as you squeezed your eyes shut, your hips wanting to shift but impossible to thanks to his tight hold.

“Jotaro, please!” You begged for release as you looked down, the incubus pushing a third finger into your cunt, still sucking your clit while looking up into your eyes. ‘Cum then.’ He didn’t need to say the command out loud for you to understand.

Panting quickly, all it took was Jotaro spreading his fingers inside your walls, rubbing the sensitive flesh before you couldn’t take it. With a sharp moan, your back arched as your orgasm burst loose, your walls contracting spastically around his fingers while he kept sucking your clit, prolonging the feeling and stopping exactly when it started to borderline on overstimulation.

Panting, you came down from your high and slumped, looking down at Jotaro and apologetically letting go of his horn that you must have squeezed to death just now.

“Good girl.” The incubus smirked as he pulled back from your clit, his fingers pulling out of you replaced by his tongue as he greedily licked up your cum.

“Fuck, I haven’t orgasmed like that in-“

“I can tell.” Jotaro hummed, leaning up. “People don’t treat you right, hm?” He teased as he slowly moved to hover his body over you. “But I didn’t tell you to let go, kitten.”

Furrowing your brows for just a second, your eyes then glided up to his horns and you understood, shyly reaching up to take hold of both horns again. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s a good kitten.” He grinned, bringing his soaked hand up and licking it clean right in front of your face. “Are you ready for me?”

Looking down, you felt your cheeks burn as you watched the devil, completely uncovered, his erection hard and prominent. Yet, something was different.

While before, his cock was something you’d recognise, now it was completely different. Thicker, a blood red with what seemed like scaled sections running down, the points of those sections pointed towards the base.

Watching your face, the fiend laughed cruelly, cupping your jaw. “It fit before, it will again.”

“B-But it’s-“

“I figured I could leave behind the alteration spell today. Given you are not a nun, I have no more fear of scaring you away. You let me take you knowing full well what I was before. And now I want to take you naturally.” He growled, leaning his face down and nipping at your jugular. “Agreed? You can trust me. It won’t be that different.”

At his words, your eyes glanced up at him again and you squeaked slightly when you felt him put the head to your entrance.

Swallowing nervously, you then nodded and Jotaro hummed lowly in appreciation, starting to push his cock into you.

Your breath hitching, you grit your teeth as you felt the head push inside, followed right by the first section, a foreign feeling yet feeling so similar as he continued to enter.

Panting softly as he felt your walls squeeze him, Jotaro stopped halfway in, huffing out a little groan. “You need to relax, kitten, otherwise I won’t fit.”

Whimpering, you looked down, already feeling fuller than last week, yet seeing how he was barely halfway in, your body tightened up even more in nervousness, your hold on his horns tightening.

“F…uck-“ Jotaro groaned, leaning forward as his hands landed on your hips, lifting you up so that your ass was hovering over the bed. “Stop squeezing so much.” He hissed, putting his forehead to yours, slightly askew so that your noses ran next to each other. “Come on, kitten, for me.”

“Sorry, so sorry.” You whispered apologetically, your eyes squeezed shut as you took some loaded breaths, trying to relax your nerves and body.

“I won’t hurt you.”

It wasn’t the words itself that made you shoot your eyes open, instead it was the way he whispered them, pressing a kiss below your eye before moving to the other.

“Let me pleasure you.” He continued, still in a whisper, his hands now massaging your hips, your muscles slowly relaxing, allowing the fiend to slip into you just a little more. “There you go, good kitten.” He smiled, pulling back from your face a little bit, only to then press his head forward and push his lips to yours.

Replacing his hands on your hips with his wings, you felt his tail wrap around your leg while his hands travelled up, cupping your face as he deepened the kiss, moving his lips passionately with yours, coaxing your mouth to open so that he could slip his tongue in.

You tasted yourself as he helped himself to every inch, your hands on his horns pulling his face even closer, earning a groan from him, his hips bucking forward, pushing even more of his cock into your tight cunt.

Moaning softly as you felt the otherworldly cock enter you, you couldn’t help but focus on everything about Jotaro that wasn’t human, and more importantly, because of the reaction he just gave.

Curious, you squeezed one of his horns again, feeling his left wing that was holding your ass in the air twitch.

Groaning softly as Jotaro pushed just a little further in, his lips still attached to yours, you slowly started pumping your hand up and down his horn.

Almost in an immediate reaction, the tail wrapped around your leg tightened while Jotaro sunk further into you, his kiss turning sloppy while you sped up, rubbing up and down the one horn.

Unable to stop himself, the incubus moaned as he bucked his hips sharply, pushing the last inch of his cock into your cunt, stuffing you to the brim while you continued to rub the hardened material on his skull.

“Fuck, kitten-!” Moaning into the kiss, Jotaro grinded down into you, spearing you on his dick as you pumped his sensitive horn, pleasure blooming in his gut.

Finally breaking the kiss, he kept his face pushed to yours, panting into the skin of your cheek while you got him off via his horn.

He didn’t think you’d figure out so quickly those were sensitive.

“Does it feel good?” You whispered and Jotaro shot his eyes open, suppressing another groan as he trailed his hands down to squeeze and hold your breasts.

“You’re smarter than you look.” He panted, lifting his face up to look at you, only to gasp softly as you squeezed hard at the base. “Fucking hell!” He bucked his hips again, growling in frustration. He didn’t want to move yet, feeling how tight you were, knowing you weren’t adjusted to his size yet, his cock packed up right against your cervix.

Opening his mouth to speak, all of that went out the window when your other hand joined him on his other horn. Double stimulated, Jotaro cursed in a language you hadn’t heard before, his hands gripping your waist with a bruising grip, his cock twitching inside you.

Feeling that, you lowered your intensity, moving to let go, only for Jotaro to glare at you. “Don’t you dare let go. Keep going.” It was an order, not a beg and with wide eyes, you bit your lip and nodded.

Stroking his horns, squeezing at the base and tips, Jotaro devolved into a groaning mess, trying to keep himself from bucking his hips as his orgasm neared.

“Fuck, keep going-!” He groaned out, nipping and biting at your neck and shoulder, his nails turning more dangerous as well as he squeezed your waist, lightly scratching.

Growling, Jotaro couldn’t contain himself, bucking his hips forward harshly as he felt himself about to blow.

“Kitten-!!” He moaned as you squeezed at the base of both his horns at the same time, his jaw opening as he sank his teeth into your neck, groaning out lowly as you suddenly felt a hot rush of cum spurt into you.

Gasping at the pain from his bite and the feeling, you whimpered, the incubus wrapping his arms around your waist as he held you close, panting as he rode his orgasm, pumping your insides full with load after load of cum, his growls low through his teeth as he stayed put.

It wasn’t until a full twenty seconds later that he finally seemed to run empty, his hips no longer twitching while he slowly let go of the bite, looking as blood dotted your skin from it.

“That hurt.” You whispered, looking up at him and for a moment, a look of regret washed over his face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He mumbled, kissing where he just bit, the flat tip of his tail rubbing apologetically up and down your leg. “You did for me, what I did for you. I got carried away.”

Panting softly, you finally properly let go of his horns, bringing your hands to your chest. “Oh, well I’m glad.” You blushed, looking to the side.

Tutting softly, Jotaro reached out, his hand gripping your chin as he turned it to face himself. “No one has ever figured out that my horns hold the same nerves as my cock. No one but you.”

Blushing even harder, you felt Jotaro’s wings - which had been holding your lower half aloft this entire time - put you down on the bed, his hips shifting so that he could move with it, still buried to the hilt inside you, plugging up his cum.

“So… that must’ve given you plenty right?”

Tilting his head, Jotaro looked at you. “To feed?” You nodded at his question, yet shrunk when the man chuckled. “Oh no, kitten. I don’t feed off myself. I feed off of you. And one orgasm definitely isn’t enough. I think I’ve given you plenty of time to recover, hm?” He smugly asked, rolling his hips as he did.

Gasping, only now did you notice he was still just as hard as he was before, his orgasm doing nothing for him.

Almost as if he could read your mind, the incubus lowered his face to yours. “I won’t be spent until I’m satisfied and fed, kitten. I can go for a while.”

Biting your lip, Jotaro rolled his hips again, testing the waters to see how ready you were, his cock a considerable size thicker and even longer than your first time. Your mouth cutely parted in a gasp and the fiend hummed, folding his wings back to his back as he firmly moved his hands to hold your hips, his thrusts slowly starting up.

Before, you had only felt him enter, yet now, those sections on his cock seemed to actively work to keep him from pulling out, flaring up and dragging over your walls in a way that made all the breath escape your lungs. “O-Oh fuck, Jotaro!” You whined, earning a grin from the incubus.

“There we go. You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking of this.” He hummed, properly starting to thrust into you, picking up a comfortable pace.

Smirking down at you, his right hand moved down to where he was stuffed inside you, his wing replacing his hold so that he could keep thrusting.

“Look at you. You’re stretched around me, taking me so well. You were born for this, weren’t you? To take my cock?” He praised, placing his thumb on your clit and expertly starting to rub the little bud.

“N-No, I’m… I’m-!” You tried to form a sentence, looking down at where he was looking too, watching the base of his cock slap into your pelvis over and over while his thumb ignited a fire inside you. “Gods!”

“You worship multiple now?” Jotaro grinned, pleasure coursing through his body, your own radiating into him, making his energy spike.

“No-“ You whimpered, whining loudly when he suddenly roughly thrust into you, his pace picking up as he fucked you.

Your poor cunt felt like an overstimulated mess, his cock’s ridges roughly pulling on your walls every time he pulled out, only to feel like he pushed further in than he was before, his thumb stimulating your clit, harshly pressing down one moment, only to be featherlight the next. He was playing with you, in every sense of the word, and you didn’t mind it one bit.

His thrusts turning somewhat slower but hard, Jotaro slammed into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every move, his ears twitching at your desperate sounds, his pace perfect as he leaned down and kissed you, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Languidly pumping in and out of you, you were a moaning mess, grabbing at his arms, his shoulders, his hair, even his wings, just searching for anything to properly anchor yourself that wasn’t his horns.

Yet Jotaro was experiencing wholly different emotions. With his eyes closed, he rocked into you, little grunts leaving him with every slow but deep thrust, your slick coating every part of his member, aiding the back and forth slide the incubus was doing. He was taking in every part he could of you.

He’d never had the same woman twice, it was strange. He’d never wanted to be close to anyone he fed off after the act, so why were you different? Why was it he hadn’t been able to think of anything but fucking you full again since he left you? Why was the squeeze of your walls around his cock so so so much better than anything he’d felt before?

Frustrated by his own emotions and lack of answer to them, Jotaro pulled back from the kiss, a whine leaving your throat as he sat up on his haunches, his hands moving to grip the underside of your knees, swiftly pushing them into your chest as he pinned you there, quickly pushing what had slipped out of his cock back in.

“You’re my pretty little plaything. My kitten.” He hummed, starting his pace back up, a little faster now as he hit deeper at this different angle, your breath hitching as his cock rubbed against your g-spot.

“W-Wait-“ You moaned, your hands holding onto his shoulders in your desperation, your poor cunt feeling battered from his harsh thrusts.

Raising an eyebrow, Jotaro grunted as he thrust into you before stopping, your eyes widening as he looked down at you, his thumb still rolling over your clit. “Yes, kitten?”

“No, I didn’t mean-“

“I bet you didn’t.” The incubus smirked, grabbing your hands with his free one and pinning them above your head while his wings held your legs to your chest. “I can feel how tight you clench around me, how much you want this. You want to cum, don’t you?” He hummed, his thumb ever present, stimulating your poor clit.

“Y-Yes! I’m sorry, please don’t stop.” You begged, earning a little groan from Jotaro as he rocked his hips.

“Good girl.” Sighing softly, he started his thrusts back up, beginning slow yet rapidly losing himself as he sped up, his eyes closed as he solely focused on your body. “Fuck, just like that.” He groaned.

You yourself weren’t doing any better, struggling to not squirm while he pinned every part of you, leaving you vulnerable. Something about having a literal devil on top of you, using every part of his body to pin you down and overpower you, to please you, it worked to make your cunt drip.

Panting, his chest rising up and down rapidly, the incubus looked down, groaning at the frothy ring around his cock, the evidence of his and your arousal visible and slick, causing him to pump his hips harder.

“Shit, you better cum soon, kitten.” He groaned, doubling his efforts on your clit, feeling how every thrust into your cunt made your sensitivity grow, the heat pooling in your abdomen flaring.

“I’m close.” You nodded, looking up at him, his body pristine and perfect, not a drop of sweat on him while you yourself felt like a mess, his cock dragging through your walls, claiming you in and out as you lay there, folded in half by the powerful being on top of you.

“Cum for me, Y/N.” Growling that out, Jotaro pounded into you, chasing his own high while he pressed down on your clit, sensing your orgasm.

“Fuck!” Moaning out, you arched your back, feeling yourself teeter on the edge before one final thrust sent you over, a moan ripping from your throat as your cunt clenched around the large intrusion, trying to milk the incubus for all he was worth as you came.

“There we go, that’s it…” Muttering to himself, Jotaro panted as he continued thrusting, the squeeze of your pussy making him want to shake as he slammed into you once, twice more before stilling, moaning low as his orgasm washed over him.

Keeping you pinned in the mating press, Jotaro pumped you full of his cum for the second time, groaning deep within his throat as he did, feeling his balls empty inside you once more, his orgasmic haze only amplified by the energy and sustenance he got from yours, leaving him in a trance as he painted your walls white.

You’d never felt so full as Jotaro filled you up, his previously load packed deep within you already, his second, seeming even bigger than the first as spurt after spurt of seed entered you.

“Jotaro, it’s too much.” You whined, shaking your head as you wiggled to try and get free, but the incubus growled, his hand pinning your wrists tightening while his wings were unforgiving, keeping you pinned until he’d finish filling you up.

“Take it. I know you can.” His eyes were dark as he rocked his hips, filling you with the last of his seed, the excess already spilling out even with him still buried to the hilt inside you.

A panting mess, finally, Jotaro seemed to let up, his wings pulling away and folding back onto his back, allowing you to lower your legs while he also released your wrists, a deep breath leaving him.

“You did well, kitten.” He spoke, running the back of his knuckles gently down your temple. With a little tug, he slowly started pulling out, a whine leaving you as the ridges on his cock resisted, right up until he popped out. “You remember the deal?”

Looking up at him, your eyes half-lidded and tired, you frowned in confusion. In return, Jotaro huffed, reaching down and collecting some of the cum that was starting to leak down. “Keep this inside you.” He spoke while pushing his finger into you, pushing the cum back in.

“Ah…” You whined softly as you closed your eyes, shifting your hips and Jotaro smirked, leaning over your body.

“See you around, kitten.”

Snapping your eyes open, you were already too late as he was gone, a residual feeling of him pulling his finger free from your cunt the only thing you were left with, apart from your marked and soiled body.

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