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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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freedom, books, flowers, and the moon.

A/N: Here is my entry in @approved-by-dentists ‘s follower celebration! Congrats again on 400, lovely! My prompt was Bookstore AU - so here we go! I’m worried that it doesn't entirely fit the prompt but there is a bookstore! So I'm halfway there! The book I mention is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (I always recommend this book - read it, love it) and I had to use Yorkshire because Yorkshire is home to the Brontes and I live in Bronte country so I had to do it. Nevertheless I hope you all enjoy! As always, I love you all!

Summary: “With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?” - Oscar Wilde.

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of war, mentions of grief, mentions of book hangovers.

Word count: 4.1k

For many, the second wizarding war had been less than a year long. They had experienced less than a year of the insecurity, the anxiety and the dread that goes through everyone’s mind in time of war.

For Harry, the second wizarding war had been a lot longer. He had been battling the Dark Lord mind to mind for years, and after his defeat, he felt exhausted. He was not only drained physically – the final duel taking its toll on him. But he was drained mentally, for all of a sudden, the space in his mind that he had shared with the darkest wizard in a century, was free. Harry could no longer feel his presence within him; the dark part of him that festered like an open wound.

It was a good thing, that he could no longer feel him. Harry knew that. But still, a part of him lingered too long on the idea that this was all a sense of false security. He had been living on the adrenaline of the chase for too long, and now that it was leaving his body, Harry had no clue what he needed to do. What he wanted to do.

He had the option of becoming an auror, and his teachers had supported him with that career choice. But a small part of him wondered whether he would be damaging himself further by throwing himself back into the fray to round up the last remaining Death Eaters.

It’s Hermione who plants this idea of him going away in his head. She has watched him battle internally with the different possible paths of his future; she had watch him argue and argue with his mind until he still had no answer.

Hermione tells him one night, over tea at the Burrow, “Harry, why don’t you get away for a while?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean go somewhere. Take some time away to heal; to come to terms with the last few years of your life. We’ve spent so long on the move, always having to be aware, that you haven’t had the time to process your emotions for everything.”

“Where would I go?” He whispers, fear creeping into his voice.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione says softly, “Let’s look at a map.” With a flick of her wand, a map of the British Isles lays itself out in front of them. “Where would you fancy?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry confesses, eyes pouring over the details of the maps – taking in the numerous counties.

“Okay. Close your eyes and point on the count of three.” Hermione states, “Are you ready?”

Harry closes his eyes, shuffling forward on the chair, “I’m ready.”

“3…2…1.” Hermione counts, and Harry’s finger circles the map once before landing.

Harry refuses to open his eyes. He’s in disbelief that he’s let himself decide his future on a three, two, one countdown. He’s been impulsive before but now he’s wary.

He doesn’t want to look. “Where am I going then?”

He can hear Hermione shuffle to look at where his finger has landed; her silence giving nothing away.

“Hermione?” He asks, slight panic setting in.

“Harry, take a look.”

Harry opens his eyes, blinking quickly before focusing on the map and his finger.

His finger points to a small village in Yorkshire. A place he had never been to.

Harry falls back into the chair with a sigh, “I guess that’s where I’m going.”

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

Spring:

Harry moves in the spring.

He spends the final weeks of winter with the Weasleys being stopped at all times of the day to be told why he shouldn’t be doing this; that he could heal just as well in the wizarding world.

He loves their attempts to get him to stay, but they don’t entirely understand why he needs to go.

He arrives in the small Yorkshire village on a bright day in March; blossoms have started to bloom on the trees and in a week, they would be covered, filling their air with their sweet and floral scent. His misses everyone strongly; feeling it keenly within his chest, but he knows how desperately needed to get away.

A month into his arrival at the small village in the moors, Harry feels he has settled very well into country life. He’s found his routine and he feels as if he’s beginning to heal from the trauma of the war and before. The clean, country air clears his lungs and his daily walks through the village has mind numb enough and his body tired enough that he can sleep through most of the night without waking once from a nightmare.

He still struggles; his still has those moments where he can’t be certain the war has finished and he’s safe but the longer he spends in the village, the less they happen.

A month into his arrival at the small village, Harry realises that he needs to thank Hermione for what she did for him that night at the Burrow. She saw his suffering and gave him a solution.

Walking through the green, he spies the small bookshop nestled on the corner of a small side street. If there was anything on this planet that Hermione loved more than Ron, it was a book.

Harry pauses for an instant outside the door to take in the window display. Both windows, and even the door window, have been painted with a cherry blossom display to mark the true entrance into spring. The blossoms fall from the tree in swirls of pinks and red, falling over the books perched on the windowsill inside – the personal recommendations for the season.

The bell above the door chimes as Harry enters the shop and he is immediately overwhelmed with the smell of old books, worn leather, and what he think is lavender. It is comforting though. He had never been much of a reader other than Quidditch strategy manuals, but something about this little shop has him feeling at home among the countless shelves piled high with books. He takes a few steps further into the shop, eyes running over title after title on multiple paperbacks and hardbacks.

Harry runs his fingers over the spines of the leather-bound volumes but stops when he realises that he hasn’t any idea of the type of book Hermione enjoys to read. She had textbooks in her hands so often at Hogwarts, but Harry can’t recall the last time he had seen her with a fiction book open in her lap.

He frowns, glaring at the books.

“Can I help you?” A lilting voice sounds from behind the stacks, “You look to be in a bad mood with my books, and that can’t possibly be right.”

“This is your shop?”

“For the last year it has been, before that I used to just work weekends.”

“It’s very homely.” Harry compliments.

You chuckle, “It’s overstocked but it adds charm and character, plus the more books there are, the stronger the old book smell and who can resist that! So stranger, how can I help you?”

Harry blushes slightly, “My name is Harry, you can call me Harry. I can’t decide what to buy for a friend.”

You come out from behind the shelves, and Harry’s eyes rake over you – taking in the nose piercing and the small tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of your thin sweater.

“Well Harry, I’m (Y/N). What does your friend like to read?”

“I don’t really know; I only ever saw her read textbooks at school to keep her grades up.”

You smile understandingly; indecision was something you encountered often in your shop, “Alright, let’s see what I can drum up. Would you like to follow me?”

Harry nods in answer but you don’t see. You’ve already turned away from him making your way through the complicated maze of shelves. Harry follows blindly, keeping his eyes on the back of your head.

You stop by a shelf that isn’t as occupied as the others. In fact, compared to the other shelves, this one is empty of books. Only a few books stand on the shelf, wide gaps between them.

Your eyes run over their spines; head tilted slightly; you think before pulling a book from its space. “I think this one will do,” you murmur, holding the book out for Harry to take.

“Agnes Grey?” He reads from the front cover.

“You’re in Bronte country, you have to know that right?”

“I’ve never heard of them,” He admits to which you gasp, holding a hand to your chest.

“I am hurt, good sir. You’ll have to buy this book for your friend now.”

Harry smiles, “I think I might. If she has read anything by the Bronte’s, I’m not to know.”

“It’s a rare edition as well. There’s only around a fifty or so copies left so I’m making sure it’s going to good home.”

“It definitely is. My friend worships books.”

You lead Harry to the till where the book is rang through and paid for. “Let me know what she thinks? She must be very special for you to buy this.”

Harry takes the book with a smile, “I’ll be back to let you know.”

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

Summer:

Spring bleeds into summer, and the floral scent from spring has turned into something headier – pulling Harry out bed earlier, keeping him outside for longer. Each day he walks past your shop, waving back at you as you wave to him from your seat by the till. Harry returns to your shop when he received Hermione’s owl thanking him for his gift and asking where he found such a rare edition.

Harry was more than happy to pass on Hermione’s compliments to you, enjoying the way you light up at his friend’s words.

“What about you? Do you read?” You ask him.

Harry shakes his head. At the look on your face, Harry suddenly wishes he had read every single book available to him and Hogwarts. “You’ll have to recommend something to me.” He suggests.

You disappear between the stacks at his words, reading title after title before finding one you think he would like.

You give a shout of success when you find the book you were looking for. You refuse to show Harry the title as you place it gently into a paper bag.

“I know you’ll like this, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“Which is?” Harry replies, curiosity lacing his tone.

“You have to promise me to come back and tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I promise.” Harry replies, too fast… much too fast, but it doesn’t seem like you mind.

You smile at him, “I’ll see you soon, hopefully.”

Harry reaches for his wallet, having every intention on paying you but your hand on his arm has him freezing, “No payment needed,” You state firmly, “Just come back and tell me what you think.”

Harry thanks you, which you wave away, before leaving. He hightails it back to his home where he makes himself a pot of coffee and sits down at his kitchen table with your brown paper bag in front of him. He feels nervous as he opens the bag, hands wrapping around a thick paperback.

The book cover is predominantly black, but there are two white figures on the front surrounded by objects found in a circus. Harry take a sip of his coffee before opening to the first page: ‘The circus arrives without warning.’

He doesn’t move for the rest of the day; he remains sat at his kitchen table in awe of the book in front of him. He finishes the coffee but doesn’t get up to make another post for fear of being pulled away from the story so soon. Harry feels as if the author herself has been in contact with magic and understands the base wonder that comes with it. His eyes pour over the pages, committing to memory the love story and the saga of The Night Circus.

He closes the book hours later, feeling both bereft and satisfied at the end.

For a long time, Harry stares at the book wondering how a collection of pages bound in black and white could hold him so tightly to the fictional world.

He goes to bed filled with happiness but also empty from the fact that he had finished it so soon. Thoughts of the books have him falling into a sleep wherein he doesn’t wake screaming from nightmares, but rather dreams of striped monochromatic circus tents and caramel popcorn.

Harry paces his living room until it’s a suitable time to run to your bookshop. The moment the clock strikes nine, he’s out the door, putting on his jacket as he runs. He holds the book in his hands as if it’s made of glass; as if one wrong move, and the dream world he entered from the first page, will be shattered.

The relief Harry feels when he sees your shop light on spurs him faster. He bustles in through the door, giving you a fright. “Harry!”

“What is this book?” He practically shouts, holding the cover up for you to see.

You grin widely, “So you finished it?”

“I didn’t move until I had!” He cries.

“So you enjoyed it then?”

“I loved it. I’ve never read a book like this before.”

“I knew you would. The minute I saw the cover I knew you would enjoy the book.”

“I just couldn’t put it down.”

You nod, knowing that exact feeling so well it was second nature, “Have I brought you to the dark side then, Harry?”

Harry grins toothily, “I don’t know. What else do you have?”

He visits your shop every day after that, bringing you lunch and a takeaway cup of tea. You admitted to him early on in your friendship that you got so caught up in the stacks of books that you often forgot to eat until it was closing time and you were ravenous, so Harry makes it his mission to bring you lunch.

He had never been much of a cook; had never needed to with the house-elves at Hogwarts but for you, he could scrape together a couple of sandwiches and a flask of tea.

Your bookshop gets more traffic through summer due to the tourist season – people come from far and wide to walk the moors and step where the Bronte sisters once did, each imagining their own Heathcliff or Mr. Rochester. Harry hasn’t seen you happier than when you recommend a book to a customer knowing that it is the right fit. You greet every customer with a smile and give them personalised recommendations if they’re struggling with their choice.

The window display changes too. A summer scene now covers the windows and door; bright colours depict a summer sunset at the beach whilst the books recommended this season are lovingly placed on the windowsill.

Summer also brings with it the change in your relationship. A close friendship develops between the two of you; you even going so far to invite Harry over to your flat above the bookshop. Harry’s nervous as he enters your home, but soon falls in love with it.

Pressed, dried flowers decorate the walls in frames. They litter the walls in their varying sizes. Harry finds himself wandering over to them, checking if his seven years of Herbology was to fail him. Irises, rose petals, lavender – he can identify those easily. However, there are some that he feels certain that Professor Sprout or Neville Longbottom wouldn’t be able to identify.

You notice him studying your walls, “It’s a hobby of mine along with the books.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Thank you,” You murmur, shyly, “My grandmother taught me; she loved the quote by Oscar Wilde.”

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a disadvantage.”

“’With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?’ She lived by this quote. It’s their bookshop below us, you see, and she taught me how to press flowers and she would always find something romantic to say about the moon. My grandmother was a free spirit that even my grandfather could not tame, but why would you want to?”

“She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was, I miss her.”

“She’d be proud of how you’re running the shop.”

“Thank you, Harry. Now would you like a drink? I have coffee, tea, hot chocolate…”

“I’ll have a coffee please.” Harry says, sitting down on the aged couch. Your flat is a collision of personalities; he can clearly see your grandparents influence among your own decoration and it creates something entirely unique.

You come back into living room with two mugs of coffee in either hand. You give one to harry before sitting next to him. He smiles at you in thanks before asking, “What are you reading currently?”

From the way your eyes light up as you talk about your current read along with your love for your shop, Harry begins to feel himself slowly fall in love with you.

He can feel the change in the air after that night. His feelings for you are well established within him. You help him feel hope for the future; for a better world – and he wants to share that world with you. but he feels the pressure of his secret weighing down on him.

He hasn’t told you out of fear; he can’t gauge your reaction to finding out he’s a wizard and classed as a war-hero. He’s worried to tell you for the panic that it could potentially ruin the budding relationship between you.

Harry confesses under candlelight. A summer storm knocked out the power, so he helps you light your large collection of candles before lying on the floor of your flat next to you.

There’s something pure about the atmosphere, with being surrounded by tens of candles that Harry feels he needs absolution from keeping this from you for so long. He whispers his confession; tells you everything. From his birth until now. He hopes and hopes for repentance among the flickering flames of the candles.

You’re silent through the exchange; letting Harry say his piece. Giving him the chance to unload the weight of the world upon his shoulders as if he were mighty Atlas.

In the end, what Harry says makes no difference to you. You had fallen in love with him over the short time you had known him, and what he confesses doesn’t affect your feelings in any shape of form. If anything, they make them stronger for it shows how much Harry must trust you to tell you something so deep and personal.

You turn onto your side once Harry has fallen silent and is waiting for your reply. You brush a hand across his forehead, pushing his hair back, looking at the faded pink scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. “You have been through a lot, haven’t you?”

Harry closes his eyes at the feel of your hand running through his hair. He hasn’t felt like this for so long; he cannot remember the last time he had felt this relaxed and safe at the same time. He whispers this to you, “I haven’t felt this safe in a long time.”

“I’m glad I make you feel safe.”

Harry turns onto his side, running a finger down the length of your face. He doesn’t miss how you shiver at his touch. He leans in slightly, intoxicated by your very presence but he pulls away at the last possible moment to ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Your free hand pulls him in by his shirt collar, “I’d thought you’d never ask,” You laugh before pressing your lips to his.

In the few months that he has known you, he has fallen head over heels for you. You help to calm the figurative storm that rages within him. In the little flat above the bookshop he has come to adore, he whispers that he loves you.

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

Autumn:

Summer gives way to autumn and the leaves begin to fall from the trees in earnest. The world returns to orange brown. Your relationship with Harry goes from strength to strength; you’re there to help with the nightmares and the panic that paralyses him now and then. It starts slow, using the bookshop as common ground to get to know each other better.

You decorate the display windows of the bookshop, bringing in Harry to help, though he would have helped you whether you had asked him or not. “Tell me again why we’re painting the windows?” he asks.

You flick a clean paintbrush at him, “Because Harry, it is autumn and autumn means one thing: Halloween. I do it every season; spring, summer, autumn and winter.”

Harry frowns, focusing his attention on painting the outline of a pumpkin, “I’ve never celebrated Halloween.”

“You haven’t? Why?”

“My parents were killed on Halloween, and my aunt and uncle never took me trick or treating anyway.”

You step down from the ladder, placing the paint pot to one side and wiping your hands on your apron. Your hand pulls his away from the window, focusing his attention on you. “I didn’t know, Harry, I’m sorry.” You murmur, wrapping him in a hug.

“You weren’t to know,” He sighs, hugging you tightly back.

You draw back slightly, still not letting him go, “How about this: we spend the day of Halloween mourning your parents, and we spend the evening eating ourselves sick on chocolate and sweets?”

“You’d spend the day with me?”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

So Harry spends his Halloween with you.

He spends his morning with you in the bookshop, stocking the shelves and reminiscing. You asked him if it would be too painful for him to talk about his parents, but he reassured you that his memories are few and far between so all he truly knows is what he has been told. For the rest of the day, he wanders between the bookshelves, telling you the stories of the Marauders.

“It would make a good book,” You gasp, breathless from laughter as Harry finishes his latest story.

“Do you think?”

“I think that if it was a book, I would definitely read it.”

Harry thinks over your words for a while. He wouldn’t ever write the book; his memories of his family are too precious for him to share with the world but he’s happy to share them all with you. As he dawdles in the shop, inhaling the comforting smell of worn leather and lavender, he thinks that he has never been more grateful for a bookshop in all his life. He feels almost whole again; your shop and you are helping to heal the ever-shrinking hole in his heart.

In the evening, he presses chocolatey kisses to your lips, interrupting you reading the same book that had started this all those months ago. You laugh into his mouth, the book falling to the side as you adjust your positions. You taste like Halloween sweets and he’s entirely addicted to it.

Harry wakes on the first of November with a clearer sense of the path he wants his life to travel down. As he watches you sleep, he knows that it involves books and you – the freedom you offer. Harry watches the sun rise across your face with a new found sense of purpose; he wants to stay here, and he wants to stay with you. He’s lived in this Yorkshire village for months, but he knows now where he wants to plant his roots.

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Winter:

Winter brings with it ice and snow, but it also brings with the year anniversary of his decision to move to the sleepy Yorkshire village.

Hermione and Ron begin to visit often; having not done so earlier to give Harry the chance to heal on his own. Harry introduces them to you on their second visit; you were full of nerves, but they quickly welcomed you into their group.

Hermione and Ron visit more now; Hermione having set up a book exchange with you.

The display windows have been painted to depict a winter scene; a log cabin with smoke, evergreen trees covered in lights. It looks like a perfect piece of heaven. Little did those who admired the window scene know, that his little piece of heaven involved this small corner bookshop opened each morning with love.

The time he spends in your bookshop has only increased; he tries to spend every waking moment with you, choosing to spend the nights with you in your flat above the shop.

Harry watches you as you help customers or as you dawdle aimlessly through the aisles in a moment of quiet. Your feet pad quietly on the carpeted floor and Harry can hear you hum the tune of a song so often played on the radio.

Harry has never really been a fan of books, but he is a fan of you. And he could watch you in your bookshop all day long.

***************

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sugarsugarmoon · 4 years

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Powdered Moonstone and Pearl Dust

Summary: Things are not always as they seem at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Genre: Smut, some fluff, some romance

Warnings: Oral sex (m. and f. receiving), creampie, cumplay, threesome, dirty talk, dom!Taehyung, dom switch!reader, sub switch!Jungkook, mirror sex, ice play, unprotected sex, Jungkook has a weird spell to clean up cum?

A/N: This large boi is half unedited. Sorry. I just couldn’t read it anymore. Thanks to my friend Katie for beta-ing the first 10K that I wrote. I don’t know if she wants to be tagged, so I won’t tag her. I hope that the requester enjoys this. I hope you all enjoy this. My work is protected under copyright law, so please don’t steal it.

Word Count: 18K+

The only sound you hear at your table hidden away in a back corner of the library is the scratch of your quill on parchment. You love that sound. It makes you feel accomplished and proud. Even if you were just writing a list of things to do, you would still love the sound. You know that you could enchant the quill to do the writing for you, but there is something so satisfying about scribbling out your own thoughts into writing. You hold the quill in your hand and continue pouring your thoughts out on the page in flowing, looping letters.

At your table next to the Restricted Section, hidden among the stacks, you finish the last of your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Even though you are only a week into the school year, your professor has assigned reading and an essay. You can’t say you mind, as DADA has always been your best subject. Now that you’re in your 7th year and in all of your NEWT classes, you are working toward your future career instead of just grades. The rest of your Slytherin classmates didn’t see loving DADA as an acceptable option, which is why you chose to hide away in the library to enthusiastically finish your homework.

If you were completely honest, which you only ever were with one person, you had wanted to be an Auror with the Ministry of Magic since you were a little girl. You could never, ever show that side of yourself to the rest of the Slytherins, or you’d be marked as a blood traitor. There was still animosity left over from the Second Wizarding War, and you didn’t want to cross any of your housemates whose parents were still Death Eaters.

You are so engrossed in your parchment that you don’t hear the man who sneaks up behind you. When you feel a hand on your back, you jump, making a thick, black ink mark across your paper. You turn around ready to smack the person who disturbed your peace and marred your assignment. Instead of being able to hit the person who did the transgression, you are met with two hands on either side of your face, and the offender captures your lips in a tender kiss. Even though you didn’t see him, there is no doubt in your mind that the lips pressed against yours belong to none other than Jeon Jungkook.

When your boyfriend pulls away, you slap him on the arm. “Look what you did to my paper!” you exclaim.

“Don’t act like you can’t do one swish of your wand and make that disappear,” he retorts, giggling and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

He was right, but you didn’t like to admit it.

“Still you can’t just go sneaking up on people and kissing them. I could have hit you with Petrificus Totalus, and then where would we be? Huh?”

He continues to giggle. “Well, I’m already stiff enough, if you know what I mean,” he winks at you, “plus, you weren’t near quick enough for that to even be a possibility.”

You snatch your wand off the table, turn to stand in front of him, and hold it against his throat, trying to look intimidating. He continues giggling. “You are incorrigible,” you scold as you roll your eyes.

You turn back to the table, passing your wand over the parchment, and mutter “Scourgify.” The ink from your flinch begins to lift off the paper and sink back into the inkwell, ready to be used again.

“You know that you’re the only person doing homework, right? I bet that isn’t even due for weeks,” Jungkook taunts as he looks down at your paper.

“Well, I like to be ahead. You know that,” you reply. “Plus, now that I’m in the NEWT class without you, I don’t have to worry about making sure you do your homework. I’m still adjusting to how much time I need. It will probably take me a third of the time now that I don’t have to convince you to do it without cheating.”

“If you would have just let me copy you, it would have saved you a lot of time,” he states, putting his hand on his hip. “But really, I’m proud of you for following your dreams, babe. I really am.” He swoops down and places his mouth against yours. Against your lips he mutters, “I know it isn’t easy with Slytherins being the way they are. Even since You-Know-Who got defeated, they still think that we all have to be evil.”

“I mean...the way you look in those pants is pretty evil,” you offer, smirk across your lips. You look him up and down, and he steps back to give you a full view. He had filled out a lot in the last year and even more over the summer, becoming a man. He’s wearing the same clothes he always wore, but they fit snugger than they used to. His tight black pants hug his thick thighs, his white button up is unbuttoned at his throat, his tie hangs loosely from his neck, and his gray sweater sits taut across his broad shoulders and firm chest. You feel an ache between your thighs as you stare at him.

“Okay, I think you’ve checked me out enough for today,” he goads. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. You nestle into his chest and breathe in his scent. For as long as you can remember, Jungkook is the one who has comforted you and taken care of you. He is the only person who you ever felt accepted you as you are, and he didn’t mind that you struggled a little bit to express your emotions. He had helped you learn to show your love for him. He gives you a squeeze and lets you go.

“All right,” he remarks, “I have practice, so I’ll let you get back to your homework that isn’t even due yet, nerd.”

He places one more kiss on your lips then begins to walk away. You watch him, and he stops halfway down the row. He smiles and says, “I love you, y/n.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, picking up your quill.

“I’m not leaving until you say it back,” he chides.

“I love you too,” you mumble back, and he bounces off and turns down the main aisle, disappearing from sight.

You turn your attention back to your paper, but, before you can even start working again, you hear, “Wow, that was pretty gross.”

You are startled by the voice and find yourself wondering why, all of a sudden, everyone feels the need to come to your spot in the library. You have only ever been bugged here by Jungkook and even that was rare because he knows this is your spot to really focus.

You turn your head to where the voice came from, and standing in the stacks is a tall man with black hair that falls in his eyes, Gryffindor tie hanging loosely around his neck. His arms are crossed, and he is leaning casually against the bookcase.

“What do you want, Taehyung?” you ask, slightly exasperated.

“I was just coming to check out the restricted section, but then I had to witness that little love fest. I must admit...I’m a little jealous, but mostly I’m disgusted,” he offers with an ornery grin on his face.

“Well, the restricted section is right there,” you gesture toward the locked area, “have fun trying to get in. I’m going back to my common room now.”

“Oh come on, y/n. When are you going to banter with me? You can’t avoid it forever.” He is still grinning that same grin while watching you pack up your bag.

“I believe in my ability to avoid it forever, so I will. Goodnight, Taehyung.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge off, away from him and the former solitude of your favorite spot.

*******

A few weeks later, when the semester is in full swing, you slink down the hallway, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the passing students and slip into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Room. You were early to class because you liked to avoid the rush of students in the hall and pick your seat carefully. You lift your eyes from the floor, and you see that your professor, Bill Weasley, is standing at the front of the room, arranging the items on the desk and fussing with books.

He looks up when he hears the door shut and flashes a smile at you. The shock of hair on top of his head is wild and curly, streaked with silver amongst the red-orange. He’s used to you coming early to class, so he doesn’t seem surprised and keeps on fiddling with things at the front of the room. You slide into your preferred seat in the second row all the way at the end. You pull out your book, quill, ink, and wand and arrange them on the table in front of you. Opening your book to the reading from the night before, you skim through the pages.

“You know,” Bill says, seemingly to himself, “you could give any working Auror a run for their money with your use of Impedimenta, even Potter.”

You feel your face heat, and you know that you’ve turned a deep scarlet. “Thank you so much, Professor Weasley,” you mumble, “but there’s no way that’s true. I mean...he’s Harry Potter. I’m just some stupid wannabe”

He chuckles, shaking his head, “I’ve known Harry for a long time. He was a stupid wannabe once too. Probably more than you. You’re not so unlike him, you know?”

You smile up at him, but, before you can respond, the door opens, and students start to fill in the room. You are grateful that you have Professor Weasley because, even though he can be detached at times, he is still one of the only supportive adults that you have in your life, since your parents died during the Second Wizarding War.

You flinch when someone plops down in the seat next to you. People usually leave you alone because you are the only Slytherin in Year 7 Defense Against the Dark Arts, but, today, someone has chosen to invade your space. When you look up from your book, you see it’s Kim Taehyung, smiling in all his Gryffindor glory.

From what you know of Taehyung from the seven years you’ve spent at school together, you know that he is cocky and weird and aggressively friendly.

“Good morning!” he exclaims a little too loudly for how close he is to you.

You give him a confused look and try to convey your distaste for the situation through your facial expression.

He just smiles back at you and starts to unpack his bag.

“Taehyung, there are like 20 other perfectly good seats in this room,” you snap.

“Yes, I know, but I want this seat,” he says with a spark in his eyes that you can’t quite name. “Besides, I have made it my goal to befriend you this year.”

You sigh a heavy sigh and turn your attention back to your book until Professor Weasley starts lecturing. You find it hard to focus though because, next to you, Taehyung is making icicles and snowflakes with his wand. They hover just above the palm of his hand, spinning slowly, then he flicks his wand and they disappear. You can’t help but be mesmerized by the intricacy of each of the snowflakes, dainty and precise. Each time you catch yourself staring at his palm, you snap your eyes back up to the front of the room and try to focus on the ginger man.

“Just give in,” Taehyung whispers to you halfway through class.

“Excuse me,” you retort in a loud whisper that draws the attention of the students in front of you.

“You want to look, so just look.”

“No. Don’t talk to me during a lecture,” you say with finality, gripping your quill tighter. You force your eyes to stay trained on Professor Weasley for the time remaining while scribbling little notes on your parchment.

At the end of the period, you pack away your things quickly, making a point not to look at Taehyung, and you move out of the classroom as quickly as possible.

*****************

When you skulk into the common room a few hours later, you are met with a crowd of Slytherins of all ages. At the center of all the commotion is, of course, Jungkook. He has a big smile across his face, and he is chatting spiritedly with a 4th year named Camilla Astaroth. She is the Keeper on the Quidditch team, and, even though Jungkook denies it, she is clearly smitten with him. You make your way past the crowd, intending on simply talking with Jungkook later or even tomorrow.

As you pass, you hear a 6th year exclaim, “we’re going to beat Gryffindor this year for sure! Jungkook is unstoppable!”

You can’t help but smile about how talented your boyfriend is. He rarely tries something that he isn’t immediately the best at, and he has a knack for all things athletic. He tried muggle sports once with some of the 7th year Hufflepuffs when he was a 5th year, and he dominated them in basketball so much that they made him sit out.

As you reach the base of the stairs, you hear Jungkook shout your name. You turn around, and his huge grin is directed at you. The girl standing next to him does not seem pleased that you’ve taken his attention away from her.

He waves you over, and you shuffle awkwardly through the crowd. When you get to his side, he drapes his arm over your shoulders, and you sink into his side.

“What’s going on?” you ask quietly to him.

“We scrimmaged Hufflepuff today, remember?” You had completely forgotten, and you felt guilt immediately build in your chest. You had been so preoccupied with Taehyung and studying that it had slipped your mind. You mutter an apology to him while looking away.

“Hey, no. It’s okay. We won though! We completely destroyed them actually. 300 to 0. They never even stood a chance,” he declares, grinning widely.

“Jungkook was so amazing. The other team didn’t have any hope of keeping up with him,” Camilla pipes up. She’s looking at him like he hung the moon, and, in her defense, he does look super hot with his hair freshly washed and mussed a little with his shirt clinging to his frame. Camilla reaches out and runs her fingers along Jungkook’s forearm, staring directly into his face as she does it.

As a knee jerk reaction, you want to punch her, lunge at her, tackle her, and pull her hair, but you refrain. Jungkook pulls his arm away tactfully and slides it around your waist, pulling you closer. He is subtly telling her to fuck off while also bringing you in closer, and you are loving it.

You lean up to his ear and whisper, “I want to get out of here.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Go to my room. I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

You say goodbye to Camilla who gives you a half-hearted wave, and you head off up the stairs. You drop your stuff in the girls dorm then make your way to Jungkook’s room. His roommates are clearly out, either with the crowd in the common room or off causing trouble. You use the opportunity to pull out a large brown t-shirt from Jungkook’s chest of drawers. You undo the knot in your tie and unbutton the top two buttons of your white oxford shirt. You wrap your fingers under the hem of your shirt and sweater and pull it over your head. You fold each article neatly and set them on top of the chest. You slide your skirt down your hips and place it on top of the pile. Deciding to take off your bra as well, you unclasp it and toss it more haphazardly than the other items. Jungkook’s shirt slides easily over your head and the cotton caresses your skin. The shirt smells like him, and you breathe it in deeply.

You plop down on his bed, smelling his pillows as well. You two were still making time for each other, but, with NEWT level classes and Quidditch practices, it was getting harder and harder to find time to just be together without doing homework or planning plays.

The heavy wooden door creaks open, and your eyes flit to the door. Jungkook shuts the door behind him and latches the bolt so no one can get in. His roommates have seen you in his bed in the mornings before, but, since they aren’t here, the two of you have free reign to do whatever you want.

He runs his hand through his hair as he makes his way over to you. Sliding into the bed next to you, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. You tilt your head up to steal a kiss against his lips. He hums in approval.

“You know...I’m not tired at all. I’m too hyped up from the scrimmage.” He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He follows that by kissing along your jaw and down your throat.

“Oh, is that so?” You kiss the top of his head as he sinks further down your neck. “I guess I could think of a few things to tire you out. That is if you ask nicely.”

Jungkook is biting down on the tender skin of your neck, down the slope of it to your shoulder. “Please.” He states it more than asks, but you are satisfied.

You pull him up to your face, and you press your mouth to his. Hungry and frantic. You take his bottom lip between your teeth and pull it out slightly before letting it go.

He runs his hand up your side. “I love seeing you in my shirt and nothing else.”

“I love being in your shirt, but I think I’d love being in nothing more right now.”

“I can arrange that.” He smirks and wraps his fingers around the bottom of the shirt. He pulls it over your head and throws it carelessly aside.

He takes a moment to just stare at your bare body in front of him, only your thin lace panties covering you. He passes his hands over your breasts, massaging them before leaning in to kiss your mouth again.

“Your turn.” You pull at the hem of his shirt. He stands up to take off all of his clothes. Every time you see his body, you feel taken aback. His waist is narrow, but his muscles are prominent in his stomach, arms, and thighs. The outline of his dick is visible through his underwear, and he is truly statuesque standing in front of you for a moment in just his boxer briefs.

“Those too,” you mutter.

“If I take these off, are you going to get on your knees for me tonight?” He puts his hand on his hip. You love when Jungkook takes control. You often are dominant, making him prove he’s a good boy for you, and you love to see him beg you. But sometimes it is thrilling to see him command you around. Often Quidditch wins bring out the dom in Jungkook.

“Yes, I’ll get on my knees for you, JK. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

He blushes a little and runs his hand through his hair again. You climb off of the bed and kneel in front of him. When he pulls down his underwear, you see that his cock is already hard. He strokes it while looking down at you.

“Are you going to suck my cock like a good girl?” he asks, never breaking eye contact.

You nod and wrap your hand around his shaft. He removes his own hand, and you begin the same rhythm, pumping. You lick from his balls to the head of his dick on the underside then swirl your tongue around the head. You wrap your lips around it and slowly take the whole thing into your mouth. You slide your lips up and down the shaft of his cock, and you feel his dick twitch in your mouth. You moan around him, feeling the heat pooling in your underwear.

“You like that don’t you?” He’s breathing heavily, but his words are still steady.

He thrusts his hips slightly, causing his dick to hit the back of your throat. You gag around him, and he moans a deep, heady moan. “Good girl,” he whispers. You loosen your throat and take him in deep again. You pull back and run your tongue over the slit on the head of his dick. Repeating this over and over, you begin to feel spit running down your chin and taste the saltiness of Jungkook’s precum.

“Y/n, you have to stop. It’s been too long. I can’t last, wanna fuck you.” He wraps his fingers around your chin and pulls your head gently away from his length. You bring your hand up and pump two more times around his hard member before you stand to meet him. You kiss him hard and almost immediately sneak your tongue into his mouth, hoping he can taste himself on you.

He pulls you against his body and lets his hands explore your skin. You can feel his cock pressing against you, and you are needy for it. You moan into his mouth and press your skin against his. His chest is smooth and supple, and your nipples grow harder at the contact. You love the way that his skin feels against yours, and you are dripping in your underwear just from the sensation.

“Baby, do you want me?” Jungkook says into your neck, his breath causing the small hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

“Yes, I want you so bad.” You tangle your fingers into his hair and tug gently while rubbing your thighs together.

“Then beg.” He pushes your legs apart with his muscular thigh, but, instead of slotting it against your clothed core, he keeps it just far enough away that you can’t get any relief. Jungkook rarely asks you to beg, and you do it even more rarely. You run through the scenario in your head of what will happen if you refuse to beg. He’s already commanded you to get on your knees, so you know he’s feeling particularly demanding tonight. You can feel how wet your underwear are, sticking against your sensitive skin.

You are weighing your options when Jungkook repeats, “Beg for it, or I’m not letting you get any relief. I’ll tease you all night if I have to.” He takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks, causing your hips to buck into him. He lets it fall from his mouth and moves to the other one, biting gently.

You sigh deeply. “Jungkook, please fuck me.” You can hear the attitude in your voice.

“Not like that, baby. I want you to mean it.”

He slides his hand between the two of you and lines his cock up with your clothed folds. He pushes the head of his cock against your clit, and you moan deeply. Fuck fuck. Am I really going to beg for it? The sensation has you desperate for him to be against your bare skin. You roll your eyes to yourself, then you drop back to your knees. The sudden movement seems to surprise Jungkook, but he also groans and takes his cock in hand as you do it.

“Jungkook, I need you more than I’ve never needed anything. I need you more than water. Please fuck me.”

He whispers an incoherent stream of curse words then asks, “baby, do you wanna ride me?”

You can see the excitement in his eyes, so you nod your head as you look up at him. He pulls you up off the floor and strides to the bed. He turns back to you and, in one smooth motion, drops your panties to the floor, then climbs onto the bed. He lies on his back, and you climb on top of him.

You hover over him for a moment, watching the impatience grow in his expression. He puts his hands on your hips and shifts his hips up. The head of his dick presses against your entrance then slides up your folds to your clit, slick with your own arousal. He does it once more before you acquiesce.

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and line him up with your entrance. You sink down on to him slowly. Once you slide all the way down, you take a moment to adjust to the size of his cock. You think to yourself that it’s not fair that Jungkook is good at everything and also has a big dick. Once you’ve adjusted to him, you roll your hips, his pubic bone creating friction on your clit. You continue your motions, and Jungkook digs his thumbs into your hips. You can see on his face he’s trying to keep his hips still.

“I want you to cum before I do, baby. Wanna make you cum.” His eyes are wide, pupils huge. His hair is pushed off his forehead, and his chest is moving quickly with his heavy breathing. He shoves his hand between your bodies, and his thumb finds your clit. The pressure and motion from his thumb is unforgiving, and you start to lose the rhythm on his cock. Jungkook takes over the motions, and he is fucking you slowly but hard from underneath. You can feel his cock against the sensitive walls of your pussy, and as he continues stroking your clit, you feel yourself clenching, stomach tightening.

You mean to give him a warning, but you close your eyes, clench around him, and your body fills with warmth. It seeps into your brain, and everything disappears for a moment. You feel like your belly and chest are full of warm liquid as your muscles contract. You moan his name loudly as you cum, and, as you’re coming back down, he whispers, “say my name again. I’m gonna cum.”

In a breathy voice, right next to his ear, you moan out, “Jungkook, you fuck me so good.”

Then he’s coming, hips thrashing hard underneath you, fingers white from pressing against your skin so hard. You lean against his chest as you feel shot after shot of his cum fill you, and his dick twitches inside of you.

Soon the motion of his hips stops, and the two of you lie there, his dick softening inside you, for a long time. You start to drift off against his shoulder, but he shakes you gently.

“Hey, I know you want to sleep, but we should probably clean up and unlock the door.”

You groan and lift yourself off of him, wincing at the feeling of his dick and some of his cum sliding out of you. Jungkook leans over to the bedside table, grabs his wand, and positions himself between your legs.

“You know you could just lick it off,” you suggest to him.

“As much as I would love to do that, it’s still not going to get it all.” He dips his head down and licks from your entrance to your clit and then shows you his tongue with the white substance on it. “See, this won’t do.”

He waves his wand over your pussy, and you think that you’ll never get used to the cooling, tingling sensation of the spell that Jungkook learned to clean up after sex. He’s learned it so well that he doesn’t even have to do the incantation anymore. You suspect that he perfected it alone long before the two of you started having sex two years ago.

Once he has cleaned you and himself, he leans down and picks up his shirt that you were wearing. He opens his chest of drawers and pulls out two pairs of underwear, one yours and one his. He throws your underwear over to you.

“I’m sorry...you’re keeping my underwear in here?”

“You’re the one who left it in here,” he scoffs. “Plus...I like to hold them when you aren’t around.”

You giggle, wildly amused at the idea of your boyfriend cuddling your underwear to go to sleep. “Wait...do you masturbate with them?” you ask with a serious expression. You can’t believe you’re getting turned on thinking about it.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My roommates are probably waiting to get in.” He pulls the underwear up to his hips, walks to the door, and flips the latch that was keeping it closed. “You better put those on. They’re gonna be here soon.”

You reluctantly pull the underwear up, the shirt over your head and then snuggle under his covers. He crawls into bed next to you and pulls you against him. He presses a gentle kiss against your neck and your shoulder.

“Thank you for doing that, baby. I love you so much. You have been so special to me, even since we were 8 years old.”

“I love you too, Jungkook. You are special to me. No one will ever be special like you are.” You turn and kiss his mouth. He mutters, “Nox,” and the lights in the room go out. You drift off to sleep fairly quickly with Jungkook’s frame draped around yours.

***********

Jungkook is walking alone through the courtyard when thwack something cold and solid hits him the back of the head. He stands dumbfounded for a moment, unsure if he is having a stroke or what was happening. He brings his hand up to his neck and feels the cold, wet substance. He hears giggling behind him, so he turns to try to find the source of the laughter and, probably, the snowball. There, laughing to himself, stands Kim Taehyung, hand on his knee, eyes narrowed, mouth agape. No one else seems to have seen the exchange.

Jungkook has had enough. Taehyung has been bothering him for months: putting ice in his backpack, putting snowballs in his chair, making his hot soup cold. It really was a complete nuisance, not to mention confusing, and Jungkook was fed up.

He unsheathes his wand from his front pocket and turns quickly, robes billowing behind him. Feet slapping hard on the stone and earth, he marches over to Kim Taehyung, who is still giggling gleefully.

Jungkook grabs Taehyung by the shirt and shoves him back against the wall, placing his wand against his throat. Taehyung’s giggles die down a little bit, but the amusement remains in his eyes. He straightens himself out a bit and stares back into Jungkook’s eyes. Something about the joy in his eyes causes Jungkook to soften the slightest bit, and, when he realizes, he feels confused and annoyed by this.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?!” Jungkook roars. “What did I ever do to you?!”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Then why are you bothering me?” Jungkook almost pleads back.

Taehyung drops his eyes. “Maybe I want you to do something to me.”

He raises his eyebrows suggestively at Jungkook, whose mouth falls open. While Jungkook stands flabbergasted, Taehyung wiggles out of his slackened grip, reaches out and straightens the younger man’s robes, and leans into his ear.

“I am interested in you, baby,” he drags out the last word, his deep voice seductive and suggestive.

And he floats away, across the courtyard and into the Great Hall. Jungkook looks around, and it appears no one heard what Taehyung just said. For a moment, he has the overwhelming urge to do anything for Taehyung, anything at all to get his affection. To have his hands against his skin. To have his mouth on his own. He shakes his head when he realizes the thoughts he’s having.

Jungkook clears his throat and adjusts his pants that are now slightly tighter. He collects himself and walks across the courtyard with the same confidence he typically carries himself.

***********************

Many nights, because you’ve struggled with sleep as long as you can remember, you sneak around the castle. You had been doing it long enough that you knew which portraits to avoid and which ones wouldn’t rat you out. You’d actually made friends with some of the paintings on the third floor across from the Room of Requirement.

You often find yourself in the Room of Requirement, practicing spells, studying, or just spending time alone several days each week. There are some days where it won’t open, and, though you’ve tried to do research, you haven’t ever found an answer as to why you can’t get in sometimes.

One night, you are wandering listlessly through a corridor on the second floor, where you know the paintings won’t bother you. You are examining one of the paintings because where there is usually one man who sleeps at night, there are now four men have a lively debate about codpieces. You are smiling to yourself when you hit something solid. At first you think you’ve walked into a wall, even though you know your way around without looking, but then you hear a voice say, “are you never aware of your surroundings?”

“Taehyung?” You hold out your wand and utter, “Lumos.” The light spills across the face in front of you, as he pinches his eyes shut and brings his hand up to cover his face.

“Oh shit, do you have to do that?”

“Nox. Sorry. What are you doing here? Just sneaking around in the dark trying to scare people?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

It’s hard to see him now with the light out, little spots twinkling in your eyes from the sudden light of your wand.

“I asked you first.”

“If you must know, I don’t sleep well, so I wander around the castle at night. What are you doing?”

You furrow your brow, though you doubt he can see it in the dark. “The exact same thing actually…”

“Oh okay. Well, if it’s all the same to you, we could wander together?” Tae proposes.

You know he can’t see you, but you still want the effect. So you roll your eyes at him. “It’s not all the same to me. Goodnight Taehyung.” You stalk away from him, trying to put as much distance between him and yourself as possible.

A few nights later, you are on the seventh floor, leisurely strolling toward the Room of Requirement with your book bag slung over your shoulder. When you see the edge of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, you feel a lightness in your chest that is immediately overshadowed by dread. You see a tall figure on the other end of the hall, and you groan at the sight of him.

“Seriously, Taehyung, can I do anything without you showing up?” you sigh in exasperation.

“Or is it you who’s following me because you’re actually secretly in love with me!?” he gasps then giggles.

“Seriously, Taehyung, this is my time to do work, and I don’t want you here for it. Get lost.”

“First, you can just call me Tae. We’re friends. Second, I come here several times a week. What gives you the right to say it’s yours?” he now looks serious and concerned.

So that’s the reason I can’t get in sometimes you think to yourself.

“We’re not friends, and I’m not going anywhere.” You fold your arms.

“Me neither. So I guess we have to share the space.” He folds his arms too and cocks an eyebrow at you.

You sigh and then move toward the entrance. “Fine.”

The door appears, and you pull it open, not holding it open for him. In the Room, where there is usually one desk with a lamp and several bookshelves, there are now two desks next to each other. The walls are still lined with books, but the selection seems to be slightly different.

You each settle into your own desk and work on your own. You are surprised by how quiet and diligent Taehyung is when he’s working on his own. The two of you work for several hours in silence. You start to feel your eyes closing and your head nodding, so you decide it’s time to go climb into Jungkook’s bed if his roommates left the door open. You start to shuffle your papers on the desk. Taehyung startles at the sound and blinks several times in your direction.

“Are you leaving? I think I was sleeping with my eyes open”

“Yeah, I got enough work done, so I’m going to get some sleep. You should too or whatever.”

He nods and starts packing up his things. You don’t deliberately slow your movements, but you do slow down. You and Taehyung leave at the same time. After you walk out the door, you make eye contact without saying anything.

“Well...same time tomorrow?” Taehyung asks.

“We’ll see,” you utter, and the two of you take off toward your respective common rooms.

The next night and several after that, you meet Taehyung in the corridor, entering the Room of Requirement together. You work silently for a few hours, then you leave together, parting ways in the spot you met.

A few weeks into your arrangement, Taehyung is sitting at his desk muttering to himself. It is distracting you, so you look over at him and sigh. He is waving his wand and, when nothing happens, huffing to himself.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. What is the matter with you?” you finally blurt out.

“I’m sorry. I was probably being loud, huh? I just can’t nail any of these stupid defensive spells. Counterspells? Sure. I got that down. Defensive spells? I couldn’t do one to save my life...and some day I might need to do one TO SAVE MY LIFE.” He is half-yelling and breathing heavily, and his eyes look like he’s about to cry.

“Okay...well, could you like...meltdown more quietly? Or somewhere else?” You know you’re being cold, but you’ve made a point to keep distance between yourself and most other people.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

He loudly flips the pages in his book. He keeps sighing to himself and groaning. Even though he’s not talking, he’s being just as loud as he was before.

“All right, fine. If you shut up, I will help you with defensive spells. Just please stop sighing.” You stand up from your chair and walk towards him, wand in hand. “Get up.”

He stands and follows you into the center of the room. You hold out your arm and show him the bend in your elbow, the looseness of your wrist. You show him your stance.

“Okay now clear your head. All you want to think about is stopping any impending danger. Anything that can harm you will be stopped. Good. Okay, one deep breath in…”

You have yourself in position, and you cry, “Impedimenta!”

Light shoots from the tip of your wand and shifts into a hazy cloud in front of you. It slowly dissipates into the air. You love the way that the jinx looks on its own, but it’s even more exciting with something is coming at you.

You look at the man next to you, “all right, Taehyung, your turn.”

“First, I told you, just call me Tae. Second, I don’t think I can do that.”

You scoff at him and walk to the other side of the room. You pull about ten books off of the shelf. You turn on the spot and hurl one of the books right at Tae’s head. You laugh as he dodges and stares at you in disbelief.

“What the fuck, y/n?!”

“Now, you better figure out how to use it, or I’m going to hit you in your pretty little face with a book.”

He gets himself into position, and you whip a particularly thick book at him. He steps out of the way and repositions himself.

“In a life or death situation, you don’t have time like that Taehyung. Do it. You got this.”

You cock your arm to throw another book, and, as it slips from your fingers, you hear Tae exclaim “Impedimenta!”

Light shoots from his wand in an unsteady stream, and the fog is much thicker than yours. However, the book hits the fog, hangs in midair for a moment, and thuds on the floor.

When the fog clears, you see Tae beaming on the other side. He runs to you and throws his arms around you, picking you up and spinning you around.

“All right, buddy. It’s just a jinx. That’s enough,” you grumble.

He apologizes and sets you back on the floor, clearing his throat and straightening himself out.

“I’ve been trying to get that for years, and I’ve just never been able to make it work before! I’m so happy that you’re here helping me! I’ll help you with anything you need help with too. It’s only fair.”

“Thanks, Taehyung. I do actually need help with counterspells but not tonight.”

You walk over to the desk and start to pack up your things. Taehyung follows your lead. When you walk out the door, you make the same eye contact that you make every night before you head your separate directions. This time, Tae, once again, flings his arms around you and mutters “Thanks” before he bounds off toward the Gryffindor tower.

Several weeks pass in which you have been tolerating Tae as your partner in DADA because he’s actually very skilled at counterspells. He has helped you perfect Finite after you had struggled with it for 3 years.

Professor Weasley seems to be thrilled by the progress that you’ve made. One day, he asks you to stay after class. Taehyung hesitates in the doorway, and you nod to him to let him know it’s okay to leave you here alone.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, y/n, but it’s absolutely working. You have never been more focused or accurate in the time I’ve known you. Your mental incantations are nearly flawless. Whatever...or whoever...is helping you is working.”

The way he paused on “whoever” leads you to believe he knows exactly why you’ve improved.

While Taehyung has helped you with counterspells, you have helped him with other defensive spells. The two of you have practiced together in the empty room after class is over and at night in the Room of Requirement, and you feel like you have grown as a witch because of it. That does not mean you like him though. You tolerate him. You tell yourself that over and over. You don’t like him.

****************

Tae climbs the spiral staircase to the astronomy tower, taking the steps two at a time. He has kind of started to dread Astronomy because it means that he doesn’t get to spend the time with you. He’s been smitten with you since Fourth Year, and he thought that you had to know it by now. He knows that you’re dating Jungkook, but he’d been pining after Jungkook since they were eleven anyway.

As he ascends into the astronomy tower, he sees that a few students who are usually there early are not there tonight. He breathes a sigh of relief. Being in Astronomy with Slytherin has proven to be challenging for the outspoken Gryffindor. He luckily has assigned himself the telescope next to Jungkook, and they have been talking more and more since the incident in the courtyard.

Taehyung had never really completely trusted men, but something about the way Jungkook talked to him made he feel like he wasn’t just looking for one thing. When Jungkook enters the room, Tae feels butterflies in his stomach. He wants to grab him and kiss him, but he knows that would destroy all the groundwork that he’s been laying for months. Instead, he just smiles and waves Jungkook over. Jungkook smiles back and makes his way to the corner where their telescopes stand.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week,” Taehyung laughs out then winks at Jungkook.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, says, “yeah,” and forces a laugh.

Professor Sinistra enters the room and the side conversations die down. She explains that tonight, students are going to be identifying celestial bodies and mapping them. Taehyung feels elated when he hears her say that all students will be working with a partner. He knows there’s a 50% chance that Jungkook will turn him down, but they actually work pretty well together.

Jungkook turns to Taehyung and says, “hey, you’re pretty good at this stuff. Be my partner.”

He isn’t asking, and Taehyung simply nods in response. They scoot their chairs closer together and unroll the parchment on which they need to be charting constellations.

About an hour later, the two are laughing, drawing on their parchment, and taking turns looking into the telescope. Taehyung turns to Jungkook, and the two of them make eye contact. They both hold perfectly still just in that moment, and Taehyung can feel his heart pounding against his sternum. He can’t stop his eyes from darting to Jungkook’s mouth then back to his eyes. His eyes are wide when Tae meets them again, but he doesn’t look away. Taehyung wants nothing more than to press his mouth to Jungkook’s, to express all the things he’d been feeling for years. Taehyung sees Jungkook look at his lips for a moment, and then, face flushed, turns his attention back to the paper, clearing his throat.

The silence is broken when Jungkook pipes up. “Can I ask you something?”

Tae nods and waits for the question. “Why are you always messing with me? You said it’s because you’re interested in me, but, if that was the case, you could just talk to me.”

Tae sighs and brings his fingers to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Do you remember in 2nd year, you got a valentine from your secret admirer?”

“Yeah...I thought it was the other Slytherins making fun of me because I would scream and run away from girls. How do you know that?”

“It wasn’t the other Slytherins,” he exhales heavily. “It was me.”

He sees the realization dawn on Jungkook who opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it again.

“I gave you that valentine, and you rejected me. I was so hurt that I wanted to get revenge on you. So I started doing what I knew how to do.”

“Are you still mad at me for that? We were kids, and I didn’t know it was from you anyway.” Jungkook is exasperated. His face is flushed, and his chest is heaving. It’s clear to Tae that isn’t processing all this new information well.

“No, I’m not still mad. I stopped being mad pretty quickly. To be honest...it was the only time you talked to me, so I kept doing it. Plus, you’re really cute when you’re upset.” Tae blushes and rubs his hand on the back of his neck. Part of him is so bold and has no problem telling Jungkook how he feels, and part of him is so embarrassed that he wants to fling himself off of the astronomy tower.

They sit in silence for a second, both men with a deep flush in their cheeks. Jungkook picks up his quill and continues to write on the parchment. He stops suddenly and turns to Tae.

“Why the ice?”

Tae can’t help but laugh. No one has ever actually asked him about why he is so skilled with magic to create snow, ice, and all things cold. He is overwhelmed by the warmth that starts to fill his chest from Jungkook being the one to ask him.

“Well, you see, my family is originally from the mountains of Bulgaria. We moved when I was pretty young, and the climate was so different. We all didn’t know how to cope without the constant snow and cold, so one day, I decided to learn. I was able to make snow for my family. Single snowflakes at first then, slowly, more and more. Sometimes it would be a full blizzard in our yard, and the next yard over would be completely bare. It’s always something that meant a lot to me and my family. My parents loved it before they…” he trails off.

Tae turns his face away from Jungkook and stares out one of the many windows. He feels a warm hand on his arm, and it pulls him back to face Jungkook.

“It’s okay to be honest with me. To feel things with me. Emotions aren’t right or wrong; they just are.” Jungkook has a wisdom and sincerity in his eyes and in his voice that makes Tae’s chest clench. He feels like he’s going to cry.

“My parents died in the war. They were Aurors. They were in the battle here.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “Sometimes I go visit the place where they died, but, mostly, I avoid it.”

“I’m so sorry that you have to experience that,” Jungkook breathes out. He still has his hand on Tae’s arm, and he begins rubbing little circles on the skin with his thumb.

“Honestly, it’s okay. I don’t get too emotional about it anymore. I know they were doing what they loved and protecting me. They wanted me to have a better life.” Tae runs his hand through his hair. “Plus, they’re the reason I want to be an Auror. Keep the legacy alive.”

Taehyung gives Jungkook a faint smile, and, once again, the two men sit in silence, this time with Jungkook’s digits tracing patterns on Tae’s skin. They stay like that for what seems like an hour until Professor Sinistra announces that class is over. Jungkook drops his hand from Tae’s arm and packs up his things.

They descend the spiral staircase together, and, when they reach the corridor, they wave goodbye.

“Hey Taehyung,” Jungkook calls out.

“Just call me Tae. What’s up?”

“If you need to talk or anything…” he trails off for a second, bringing his hand through his hair, “I’m here for you.” They both nod and head toward their respective common rooms.

**********

Christmas hadn’t been your favorite holiday since before your parents died, and you could hardly remember the Christmases that you had spent together any more. Since your third year, you had been staying at the castle over the winter holiday. You used the time to explore the castle even further, read, and enjoy the common room alone. Plus, the house elves made the best food during the holidays, which was better than the frozen meals your grandma made for Christmas.

You wrote her a letter telling her that you missed her and loved her and wished her a Happy Christmas. Overall, you didn’t feel too bad because she had her sisters with whom she could spend the holiday.

The day that everyone is leaving for the holiday, Jungkook asks you again if you’re sure that you don’t want to go to his parents’ with him. You assure him that you are used to your Christmas tradition at the castle, and you would rather take the time to be alone. He kisses you deeply before he leaves to catch the train.

You enter the Great Hall to get lunch after you say goodbye to Jungkook, and there is only one table in the Great Hall. There are about 15 students at the table, so you find a seat away from everyone near the Professors’ table. You grab a sandwich off the table and begin to munch away, pondering to yourself what books you are going to read over the holiday.

You hear a familiar laugh across the hall, and you are jerked from your thoughts. Glancing down the table, trying not to noticeably look, you see Kim Taehyung spiritedly chatting with a 5th year Ravenclaw. You didn’t know that he would be staying at the castle over the winter holiday, and you don’t remember ever having seen him here during the break before. The way that your heart flutters and your stomach flips at the sight of him does not go unnoticed, but you force yourself to ignore it. You shake your head and guide your mind to thoughts of what Christmas must be like at Jungkook’s house.

His parents always loved the holiday season. They would decorate the house with white icicle lights, and they would fill the house with small decorations and enchanted candles floating in midair. You remember seeing it from across the street when you were younger and being filled with wonder. Your grandmother had a small artificial tree that sat atop a side table next to the sofa, but she was not full of cheer and Christmas spirit like Jungkook’s parents. You had seen their Christmas tree once as a child, when your grandmother took you to their Christmas party. You remember seeing the fake snow and beautiful ornaments adorning the tree. You had delicately taken one between your fingers to look at it. Jungkook snuck up behind you and shouted, causing you to wince and drop the ornament.

He had apologized profusely to you when you started to cry. You ran away from him and hid behind your grandmother. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she finally agreed to leave after you begged her for ten minutes. That was the last time that you saw the Jeon’s Christmas tree in person, but they took a photo each year. You loved looking at the pictures of Jungkook growing taller and fuller each year, grinning widely, with his parents and his brother beside him. It made him seem so domestic, which was not something that you felt from him often. You couldn’t help but picture what it would be like there with them on Christmas.

But you were too attached to your tradition of spending the holiday at Hogwarts to let anything pull you away. You finish your sandwich and wipe your hands on your pants. You decide to start your holiday alone in the Slytherin common room and head that direction.

“Hey! Y/n!” you hear as you are reaching the grand double doors of the Great Hall. You turn to see Taehyung bounding toward you.

“Hi! I didn’t know that you stayed here for the holidays!” he exclaims with the enthusiasm he usually has at the beginning of every conversation.

“Yeah, I have stayed since 3rd year. What about you? You’re not usually here for the holidays, right?”

“No, I’m not. This year, my grandma went back to Bulgaria, and I decided I didn’t want to go because...well because I didn’t want to go.” He is holding something back from you, but you let it go because you are not in the mood to invite conversation.

“Well, I better get going. I’ll see you around, Taehyung.” you turn on your heel and set a path for the Slytherin common room.

“I told you to just call me Tae!” he shouts after you, voice echoing off the stone walls.

You spend the afternoon lounging around the Slytherin common room, enjoying the plush couch with your feet up over one of the arms. You sit in front of the fire and read while curled up in a large arm chair. You never feel at home in the common room when it is full of your housemates, but when you get to enjoy its coziness alone, you are always reminded of the homey feel that it does have.

You only leave the common room to go have dinner, and then you return to the common room. You spread out all of your homework across the floor and take your time deciding in what order you are going to complete it. After a few hours of scribbling on parchment, reading textbooks, and reciting incantations, your eyelids start to feel heavy. You slip into your room, comfortable to be alone there. For the first time in a while, you fall asleep easily.

The next day you decide to head to the library to work at your table near the Restricted Section. Your feet guide you to the table amongst the stacks while your mind wanders to thoughts of Jungkook and the future. When you drag yourself out of your thoughts, you notice a figure sitting at your table. Of course he’s there.

“Why, y/n, it’s lovely to see you this morning,” Taehyung chimes, standing to pull out a chair for you.

“Taehyung, seriously, what are you doing here?”

“In the library? With all of my textbooks open? And my homework parchments unrolled? I’m not sure what I could possibly be doing, y/n.”

“I mean, why are you at my table?”

“Is this your table? Huh. I hadn’t noticed. It’s just a table a like.” He smirks, and you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I guess you’ll have to sit and work with me this morning.”

You roll your eyes and drop your book bag on the table. The chair that Taehyung pulled out for you sits, waiting for you, so you plop down in it with a sigh. You pull out your books and begin to work. Taehyung proves to be a good person to be around while studying in the library as well. He is focused on his work, and it forces you to be focused too, though you steal glances at him every few minutes. He looks good like this, hair curly and hanging in his eyes, expression focused and intent. Your mind wonders if this is what he would look like on top of you, inside you.

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought, and you shake your head. When Taehyung looks up at you, you choke on the air you’re trying to inhale and start coughing uncontrollably. Taehyung bolts around the table to your side to try to help, but you push him away. You finally stop coughing, but your eyes continue to water.

“Y/n, are you okay? What just happened?” Taehyung is concerned and his brow is furrowed.

You hastily collect your parchments and books from the table, stuffing them into your book bag.

“Nothing. I have to go.” You dart out of the library and away from the sinful thoughts that your mind had about Taehyung.

What the fuck was THAT!? I have Jungkook. I can’t be thinking about other men like that. And Taehyung of all people?

You descend into the Slytherin dungeon and spend the rest of your day hiding in your dormitory.

You feel Taehyung’s fingers against your skin, and an icy chill runs down your spine. He caresses your arms, your collarbone, your neck. He wraps his fingers in your hair and leans into you. “Just give in,” he whispers, and goosebumps rise all over your skin. He takes the tender skin of your neck into his mouth, sucking and biting at the skin. You can feel the skin of his chest on your bare tits, and you arch your back up into him. “You want to fuck me, so just fuck me.”

You shoot straight up in bed, breath heaving in your chest. You have a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, and you can feel the sticky wetness that has settled into your underwear. You chant, “it was just a dream” over and over to yourself while trying to steady your breath. You are overwhelmed by the images burned in your brain, playing on repeat.

You decide that there is no use in just sitting in bed dwelling on the dream, so you get up, dress, and traipse out of the common room. The Room of Requirement seems like the best option for where to sneak off to in the middle of the night. You figure Taehyung can’t possibly be there because he had been working so long in the library earlier today.

When the entrance appears, you tentatively enter the room. You find that it looks much the same as it usually does, except there is an overstuffed sofa sitting in front of a low-burning fireplace in the corner. You think that it must be there because you need a place to be comfortable, and it was just taking care of your needs

However, as you get closer to the couch, you see the ends of two feet hanging off the side. You roll your eyes and decide to try to leave before he notices you. You make it to the door, but when you pull it open, the hinge creaks a loud, low groan.

Taehyung shoots up off the couch and and calls out, “Y/n!?” before he even sees you. His voice sounds a little panicked, but you figure it might be because he has just woken up.

“Oh, hey, Taehyung. I didn’t realize you were here. I’ll just leave you be…”

“No!” He looks slightly embarrassed by his sudden outburst of protest. “I mean...I would like it if you stayed.”

You sigh and realize that you’re having a hard time saying no to his puppy dog eyes. You sigh once more and make your way over to the couch. “Fine.”

He sits up and scoots over to one side, leaving room for you to sit. You ensure that you are as far from him as possible. The two of your sit in silence staring at the fire for a while before Taehyung’s voice cuts through the room.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” You shake your head and your hand trying to indicate to Taehyung that it isn’t a big deal.

“No, it isn’t stupid. The way that you feel isn’t stupid. What is it, y/n?”

You feel the weight of what you’ve been thinking in your chest. It can’t hurt to talk it out with Taehyung, especially if you are vague.

“Okay. I-I had a dream about someone other than Jungkook. Like an...intimate dream.” You cast your eyes away from the man next to you because you feel like if he looks into your eyes, he’ll see that it was him.

“So?”

“So I shouldn’t be thinking like that about someone that isn’t my boyfriend. I know it’s just a dream, but I think about this person sometimes when I’m awake. Sometimes when I’m with him I just want to kiss him until my lips hurt, and I don’t know what to do with that because I love Jungkook so much, and I don’t ever want to hurt him.” You’re breathing heavy, and you feel the hot tears starting to well in your eyes. You are so angry with yourself for having these feelings toward Taehyung that you just want to cry until you can’t see.

“Well, if you’re feeling this way, have you thought about talking to Jungkook?”

“And saying what? I don’t want to break up with him. I want to be with him for the rest of my life.” The hot tears are spilling down your cheeks now, and Taehyung scoots a little closer to you on the couch. He rests his hand on your leg, and his palm feels like it’s burning your skin through your pants.

“I’m not saying you have to break up. Is it not possible to love more than one soul?” His tone is so earnest and genuine that you start crying harder. You slide closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder.

You don’t have anything else that you can say to him, and you let the words that he just said ruminate in your mind. Is it possible?

Once you’ve calmed yourself down, you pull away from Taehyung a little bit. You lean back and look at him, and he peers at you through his lashes.

“Why are you here tonight? Couldn’t sleep?” you ask.

“Yeah. I’m just having a hard time this holiday, and sometimes I forget that men can make things complicated for me.”

You raise your eyebrows. You aren’t sure what he means, but you know that something has happened to him.

“I just don’t ever feel like I can trust them, you know? My mother was half veela, and so often times men just want things from me because of that. I can’t help that there is a mystical power to the way that I look, but I just wish sometimes that people wanted to know me for who I am.”

You had no idea that Tae was part veela, but you can see it now in his features. He is gorgeous, and you have noticed men falling over themselves to talk to him before. Besides his looks though, Taehyung has so many brilliant qualities, and you are sad that more people are not willing to get to know him more to see them.

“I want to know you for you, Tae.” Now you rest your hand on his leg. You are very aware of the several points of contact between the two of you. His hand on your leg, your hand on his leg, your thighs touching on the couch, shoulders pressed together.

He turns his head slightly toward you, and you realize that the two of you are just inches from each other’s faces. “Yeah?” he breathes.

You notice his eyes dart to your mouth and then back to your eyes. You can’t help but follow his lead. His lips are plump and pink and inviting, and you want to let your mouth rest on the pillows of his lips. Before you can think about it, he is leaning toward you. He presses his forehead and against yours, and his hot breath makes your lips tingle.

A log in the fireplace crackles loudly, sending sparks into the air of the fireplace. You are dragged out of your trance, and you realize what you are about to do. “We shouldn’t do this,” you whisper. You stand up from your place on the couch and stare at Tae for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” you apologize and slink out of the room without another word from Tae.

You avoid leaving the Slytherin common room except for meals over the next few days. Christmas dinner is delightful as always. You walk into the great hall and see the large table in the middle filled with dishes and platters and lots and lots of food. You are thrilled by the feast before you. The one large table stretches across the Great Hall covered in treacle tarts, roast turkeys, mountains of roasted potatoes, tureens of buttered peas, and silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce. Your stomach growls, telling you that you have plenty of room for all of the delicacies in front of you.

Tae sits further down the table and keeps glancing your direction. You try to ignore him while you stuff yourself full of food. You aren’t sure what to say to him, so you decide that after the feast you’ll just make your way make the Slytherin common room. Before you can make it out of the Great Hall, Tae steps in your way.

“y/n, I really think we should talk about this,” he says, sounding vulnerable and desperate.

“I really think we shouldn’t, Tae. Nothing happened.” You turn to walk away but are met with resistance. Tae’s fingers are wrapped around your arm, and his eyes are wild.

“Please y/n. I can’t lose you.” Tears begin to pool in the corners of his eyes, and the delicate honey skin on his face is turning pink.

“You aren’t going to lose me, Tae. I just need time, okay?” He finally nods and lets go of your arm. You can’t bear to look back at him, so you scurry off toward the dungeons.

You avoid Tae for the rest of the holiday, and, when Jungkook returns, you throw your arms around his neck, jump into his arms, and kiss him deeply. He wraps his arms around you, grabbing firmly onto your ass, and presses you against him.

“I missed you so much,” you utter into his hair.

“I can tell,” he laughs. “I missed you too. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing special,” you lie. “Just wishing I had more time to spend with you.”

Jungkook regales you about his holiday, and the two of you cuddle up together in his bed that night. You are so grateful to have him back with you, but you feel a peculiar tugging in your heart.

***********************

Fortunately, you still had 7th Year Potions with Jungkook, so you got to see him then. Your schedules were quite different this year, and you were finding less and less time to spend together. You were taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. You had loaded your schedule, and, while at times you regretted it, you knew what you needed to do it to become an Auror. Jungkook, however, had already been scouted by several professional Quidditch teams for his skills as both a Seeker and a Chaser. In the last two years, he had decided he wanted to be in the midst of the action instead of just looking for the snitch, so he had made the switch to Chaser. You had to admit he was amazing. Since he didn’t really need his NEWT level classes, he decided to have a fairly easy year. He is taking Astronomy, Potions, Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, and Apparition (the only thing at which Jungkook had ever failed, so he had to retake it).

You are grateful for the time with Jungkook and, honestly, the time without Taehyung. He was in all your other NEWT level courses because there were so few seventh years in all of them. Not only that, but you were tutoring each other after classes and spending nights together in the Room of Requirement. Luckily, Potions was popular among members of your house and needed for most wizarding careers, so you got to take Potions with Sytherin and Ravenclaw.

In class today, Professor Slughorn is having you brew Amortentia. He says that even though he had you try it in 6th year to see who could get the closest, now he expects you to be able to brew it flawlessly. You are partnered with Jungkook, and the two of you have always worked well together.

You open your book to the ingredients list: Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and a pinch of rose petals. Easy enough ingredients, but the directions are complicated and precise. You find yourself wondering how one does three-quarters of a stir. But you embark on the journey to make a love potion with Jungkook at your side.

The two of you work diligently, taking turns delegating, gathering ingredients, and stirring. Slughorn checks in over your shoulder and makes some vaguely positive sounds in his throat before moving on.

You feel your shoulders drawing up and your jaw clenching, with a thin layer of sweat on your face. Jungkook grabs your shoulders and stares into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, expression encouraging you to do the same. You inhale deeply and let yours go at the same time as him. He runs his hand up and down your arm twice, and then he turns back to the cauldron.

Jungkook has loved making potions since he was a little boy, long before Hogwarts. You had lived across the street from him growing up, and you often went to his house where his parents were making potions or participating in other magical practices. This was where you learned everything you knew about magic before you came to Hogwarts. It was more of a home than your grandma’s home in which you grew up. She was a muggle and did not understand the appeal of magic. She had four sisters who were also single, old women, and they all got together and gossiped most days. You usually just felt ignored and unwanted, but she had taken care of you, clothed, and given a home after your parents died.

You drag your attention back to the cauldron in front of you, realizing you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve stirred. You glance at Jungkook, and he holds up 7 fingers. You finish your last motions with the large spoon then pull it out of the mixture.

“You’re better with the incantations. You should do it,” Jungkook decides.

You wave your wand over the cauldron and mutter the latin phrases spelled out in the textbook. The cauldron bubbles profusely then immediately quiets, surface completely still. It has a pink hue with a pearlescent sheen. The smell wafts out of the cauldron, dancing in your nose. You smell fresh quills, Jungkook, and...you sniff again more deeply. That can’t be right. You must have done it wrong.

“Jungkook-ah, what do you smell?”

He leans closer to the cauldron. He a smile cuts across his face as he takes in the aroma. “I smell a Quidditch pitch early in the morning, fresh baked bread, and you.”

When he says “you,” he turns and looks at you, hoping you’ll be as pleased as he is.

“I smell you too, Jungkookie,” you say and leave it at that.

He grabs your hand and gives you a huge smile, showing all of his teeth. You feign a smile, wracking your brain for any other explanation for the third smell, clear as if he were hugging you in his big arms: Kim Taehyung.

**************

It is a Saturday morning in early February, and the sun is already beating down on the grass. You make your way into the Slytherin section of the bleachers, ready to watch the biggest match of the year. Slytherin and Gryffindor had been rivals for as long as anyone can remember. Now that Slytherin had Jungkook, the rivalry became even more fierce. Everyone wanted the chance to destroy Jeon Jungkook, the Seeker-turned-Chaser who was already scouted by national teams. No one had between Slytherin yet this year, but you know that if they did, he would never hear the end of it.

The stands are filled with students from all four houses, and everyone piles into their seats shoulder-to-shoulder. You have a space between you and the person next to you because every still avoids the Slytherin Ice Queen who is also the Slytherin Outcast. You shrug and turn your attention back to the pitch.

The players have mounted their brooms, standing on the ground. Madam Hooch walks onto the field, talks with the players and releases the Bludgers and the Snitch. She takes the Quaffle and throws it in the air, and the game begins.

Jungkook is effortless on his broom, throwing and catching the Quaffle. He takes the first shot within two minutes of the game starting and the crowd goes wild when he scores. He scores four more goals before everyone sees the Seekers see the Snitch.

You look across the stands and see Tae staring directly at you. He motions toward the narrow hallways that connect the stands together. He points to you and himself and motions again. You roll your eyes, but you get up from your seat and make your way down. You watch Jungkook score one more goal and cheer his name loudly before you descend into the area in which you cannot see the match.

You walk toward the Gryffindor section, passing a couple of Hufflepuffs on the way. They give you a dirty look as you pass by them. Finally, you see Tae walking toward you, huge, boxy grin on his face.

“I love watching you watching him,” Tae exclaims. “I can see how special he is to you.”

“He is really special. He’s also super hot.” You shrug.

“Oh trust me, I have eyes.” Tae giggles and moves closer to you. You back away slightly. When he takes two more steps toward you, and you back away again, your back hits the wood behind you.

Tae puts his arm up on the wall next to you and leans closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, and you feel yourself swallow. He giggles again.

“Do you think I’m special too?” Tae asks you, and you can feel his breath on your face.

“Yeah, sure, Tae. You’re special in your own way,” you breathe, trying to break the tension.

“I want to be special for you. I want to be special for both of you.” He leans down and presses his lips against yours gently. You freeze because you are not sure what just came over Taehyung. You don’t stop him, but you don’t kiss him back at first. He then snakes his hand around your waist and pulls you closer to him. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. You can’t help the moan that creeps out of your throat as your body presses against his. You can’t think, so you just kiss him back, mouth working against his. You can hear the cheering in the stands, and an announcement of “Slytherin catches the Snitch!” drags you back out of the moment with Tae.

You pull away from him and gently push his chest away from you. He lets you go, immediately dropping his hands to his sides. You run off down the corridor, hand pressing gently against your lip, trying to figure out what the fuck actually just happened. Your heart is fluttering, and your stomach is doing back flips. It is unlike anything you’ve ever felt for Jungkook. Not better, just different.

You run back toward your place in the stands, but it’s too late. They have already announced that Slytherin has won, and most of the fans are trying to leave. You figure that you will catch Jungkook in the common room after he makes his way back. You decide that you are going to tell him right away what happened with Tae, but you haven’t decided yet if you’re going to tell him what it means to you.

Sound erupts from the Slytherin common room as soon as you say the password and the door swings open. Slytherins from each year are celebrating cheerfully. There is butterbeer and firewhiskey that they definitely aren’t allowed to have flowing, and the Quidditch team is in the middle of the room receiving high fives and pats on the back from your housemates. Jungkook is at the center of it all, and he is surrounded by first, second, and third year girls. He is smiling politely at them and making his way toward the edge of the room. His eyes catch yours, and he shoots you a huge smile, eyes scrunching at the sides.

You wave to him and try to fight your way through the crowd to him. You hear him say, “excuse me, ladies” to the crowd of girls around him, and he pushes his way toward you. When you finally meet, he snakes his arms around your waist and lifts you off the floor. He spins you around then kisses your mouth before he puts you back on the floor.

“Great job out there today, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you say into his ear. You trace your fingers down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it then say, “Can I talk to you about something later?”

His expression changes. His smile drops, and his eyes fill with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I just want to have a conversation with you about something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Now, I’m worried. Let’s just talk now.” He turns you around and guides you by the small of your back up the stairs to the boys dormitory. He brings you into his room and locks the door. “What’s going on?”

You take a deep breath and try to organize your thoughts as well as you can. You look into Jungkook’s eyes to try to steady yourself, but the desperateness in them makes your heart ache.

“You know I was doing some reading,” you pause for a moment, trying to stop your voice from shaking, “there are some relationships, especially wizards, where - uh - well instead of just two partners they might have three or even more. What - uh - what do you think about that?” you stutter a little over your words, but you get them out.

“I don’t have a problem with that. What does this have to do with us?”

“Well, you know, I’ve just been thinking that maybe there is someone that could potentially make both of us happy.” You peer up at his face from the floor, and there is pain in his eyes.

“Are you saying you aren’t happy with me? Y/n, I love you, but if you’re unhappy...I can let you go.” He’s crying now. Big, globular tears roll down his face, and he brings his hand to his chest.

You bring your hand to his cheek and run it through his hair. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. You make me so happy, but I’ve noticed both of us growing closer to another person who seems to give us each something that the other doesn’t, you know? And if you don’t want to bring him into this, I’ll shut down this idea right now. I would rather be honest with you right now than hold it in and things continue to be weird.”

He lifts his eyes from the floor and meekly asks, “Is the specialness gone?”

“No! Baby, of course not! Everything with you is still special. It is so special to me. I just think that Tae could be special too in a different way.”

His eyes glisten, maybe just from the tears, at the mention of Taehyung. “I just need time to think about this, okay?”

“Of course, baby, take the time that you need. Like I said, if you don’t want it, we don’t do it.” You bring your hand through his hair again and stand on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. He unlocks the door, and you leave to your room. You feel a sinking in your chest. You don’t want Tae if it means that you can’t have Jungkook.

A few hours later, the party has died down in the common room, and you hear people dispersing to their beds or to the Great Hall for dinner. Then you hear your name. Someone is shouting your name. You fling the covers off of you and clamber down the hall to find Jungkook standing at the top of the steps to the girls’ dormitory shouting your name.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong!?” you blurt out.

“I can’t come in the girls’ dorm, and I’m ready to talk.” He smiles weakly at you, and you run up the stairs. You wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. He leans into your embrace and rests his cheek on top of your head. He holds you there for a few minutes then pulls away.

“If you want to try this with Taehyung, then I am willing to give it a shot,” he whispers, kissing your hair. “I think he could make both of us even happier.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you do anything that you don’t want to do.”

He nods. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything except maybe that I’m madly in love with you.”

“Baby, I love you so much! Should we go talk to him?”

He nods again, and the two of you go, hand-in-hand, towards the Great Hall, hoping Tae will be at dinner.

************

After you and Jungkook talked to Tae, things moved pretty quickly. The three of you start hanging out in the courtyard together, holding hands, stealing kisses in the sunshine. With Taehyung, it just feels easy. He fits in with the two of you, and, though there are some growing pains, the adjustment has been fairly easy.

You continue to work in the Room of Requirement late at night with Taehyung, and he and Jungkook have started eating most of their meals together. You all spend time in the library, silently working on homework. You feel so comfortable and happy with the two of them that sometimes you forget that it wasn’t always this way.

***********

One night, you and Jungkook go together to meet Taehyung in the Room of Requirement. When the door opens, the room looks different than usual. The low-burning fireplace is in the corner again, light reflected in a full length mirror in the corner across from it, and there are hundreds of enchanted candles lining the walls. In the center of the room is a large bed, and the two of you look at each other, slightly confused.

The loud creak of the door causes the two of you to turn to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, mouth open. “Holy shit, did you do this for me?”

“No! It was just like this when we got here!” Jungkook sounds a little defensive. You realize that you two have only ever had sex with each other, and he might be nervous about the implication of the atmosphere of the room. You squeeze his hand.

“So, you don’t want let me love you?”

Jungkook clears his throat and stares wide-eyed at Taehyung who beckons him over with his finger. Jungkook obeys and walks to the other man, leaving you standing, dumbfounded and turned on already. Taehyung kisses Jungkook passionately, grabbing him by the back of the neck. Jungkook’s body seems to respond to Tae’s forcefulness, and he kisses Tae back with bruising force. Their hands are all over each other, and they press into each other like they are needy for the other’s touch. Taehyung peels Jungkook’s shirt over his head and settles himself behind Jungkook, kissing the skin of his shoulder and collarbone.

Jungkook leans his head back, resting it on Tae’s shoulder, exposing his neck to the man behind him. Tae runs his hand up Jungkook’s chest, making sure to caress his nipples as he takes a painfully slow route up his torso. He drapes fingers around Jungkook’s throat and gives one gentle squeeze.

With his other hand, he grabs Jungkook’s belt loop and pulls him closer, so his ass is pressed up against Tae’s groin. Tae slides his hand up to Jungkook’s hip and pushes him against him, grinding his hard cock into his backside. He lets out a long groan against Jungkook’s neck, nipping the skin between his teeth, then running his tongue along the red mark he just left.

His eyes drift up from Jungkook’s neck and meet yours. They are full of hunger, and he licks his lips without breaking eye contact.

“Come over here,” he growls.

You walk over, unsure what he’s going to want you to do. You find yourself standing in front of JK, unable to focus on anything except the wetness between your thighs and how good Taehyung’s long fingers look resting on the skin of Jungkook’s throat. Taehyung leans in and bites Jungkook’s skin again, right at the crook of his neck and shoulder, causing him to whimper and press his body back into Tae’s. Jungkook looks so pliant, and you want to watch him submit to Tae. You want to watch him do everything you say. Unable to control yourself any longer, you press your mouth against the other side of his neck, biting and sucking the skin, leaving your marks to mirror the one’s Taehyung is leaving on the other side.

Tae pulls away from Jungkook, watching you marking the other man.

“Get on your knees, y/n,” Tae says in his deep, sultry voice, causing your pussy to clench, “show our Jungkookie how much you love him.”

You nod and sink to the floor in front of Jungkook. You look up at him through your lashes, and he looks like lust. His eyes are blown wide, and his hair is mussed up from Taehyung. His neck is covered in so many blossoms from you and Taehyung, it’s practically an entire bouquet. You reach up and undo his belt and his pants. His hips involuntarily jerk toward you as you pull his pants down.

“Shhh,” Taehyung scolds against his neck, tightening his grip again, “Let her take care of you.” He pulls Jungkook closer to him and grinds against his ass once more.

You reach your hand into his underwear and free Jungkook’s cock from the cotton confines. The skin is so smooth in your hand, and you slowly stroke his length, letting your fingers remember every inch of him. You position him directly in front of your mouth, stick your tongue out without touching him, and look up into his eyes again.

“Please,” he whines in a barely audible whisper.

You shift your eyes to Taehyung, who is rolling Jungkook’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He gives you a devilish smirk, and you know that he isn’t even remotely close to done with you.

You lick a stripe up the underside of Jungkook’s cock, and a deep throaty groan escapes him, filling the room. You roll your tongue around his head and along the slit, over and over, making more moans and whimpers escape him. Finally, you take him into your mouth, barely parting your lips and only allowing the tip in. You suck just on his head, and, once again, he whimpers and pants out “please.” It’s only then that you slide all the way down his cock, allowing him to hit the back of your throat.

While you work his dick, Taehyung continues leaving marks along Jungkook’s neck and shoulders. He leans in to his ear and whispers, loud enough for both of you to hear, “Isn’t it delicious to be loved?”

A bolt of heat shoots through you, and you moan around Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook’s hips jerk again, causing you to gag around him. He moans again, and his breathing is getting frantic and erratic. You can feel the signs of him getting close, so you let his dick fall from your mouth, and he whines at the loss of contact.

“You can’t cum yet, Jungkookie. You need to show us that you’re a good boy,” you admonish him and stand to catch his lips with yours.

“Are you a good boy or are you just a little slut because you want to cum?” Tae asks, and you feel another rush of heat to your core. Jungkook shakes his head no, and you rub your thighs together to try to get some relief.

“Stop that, y/n.” You stop. “I think that Jungkook needs to show us he can follow orders. JK, lie down on the bed.”

He steps out of his pants and underwear that are around his ankles and goes to the bed. He lies on his back, hard cock resting on his belly. You stare at how beautiful he is, naked and submissive, hands trembling trying not to reach up and stroke himself.

“Baby, why don’t you show me you’re a good boy and lick my pussy?” You command as you saunter over to him. He nods in reply.

Taehyung moves in closer and runs his hand through Jungkook’s hair. “If at any point it’s too much, you just need to say ‘hinkypunk,’ okay?” Jungkook nods again. “Baby, you’re going to have to use words with us. Try again.”

“Yes. I will say it if it’s too much,” Jungkook pants. “Please let me eat your pussy.”

Immediately, you push your skirt and underwear down your thighs and step out of them. You climb onto the bed and straddle his face, slowly lowering yourself over his mouth. He brings hands up to grip your hips, and as soon as you are close enough, he licks from your entrance to your clit, flicking his tongue several times over the sensitive bud. You moan and toss your head back. He keeps licking steady circles on your clit, coaxing shudders and moans from you. He drops his arm from your thighs and brings his fingers to your core. He slips one finger inside you with ease because you are so wet. Your hips start to rock against Jungkook’s face as he continues pushing two fingers inside of you, curling them up slightly.

Facing out from the headboard, you see Taehyung palming his erection through his pants. He sinks between Jungkook’s legs and takes the head of his cock in his mouth. Jungkook moans against you, and you feel your pussy clench.

“Baby, you have to stop me before you cum,” Taehyung commands. “You can’t cum until I tell you, so you better not cum on my tongue. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Jungkook mutters against you, causing you to roll your hips against him again. He flattens his tongue and lets you ride his face, intermittently moaning from Taehyung rolling his tongue around the head of Jungkook’s cock. He drops his nose all the way to Jungkook’s pubic bone. You see him swallow around Jungkook, and JK cries out, “fuck fuck. I’m gonna cum. Fuck!”

Taehyung removes his mouth from Jungkook’s cock with a pop and runs his hands up JK’s torso. “Good boy,” he utters as he presses gentle kisses to his hips and his belly. Jungkook writhes under him, whimpering.

“Make y/n cum,” Tae demands. “She deserves to cum.”

Jungkook focuses his attention back on your cunt. Picking up the pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you, he flicks his tongue in steady, slow circles on your clit. You feel the warmth pooling in your belly. With one more slow lick, you feel yourself tumbling over the edge, and you press yourself down a little harder against Jungkook’s mouth.

When you come down from your orgasm, you lift yourself off Jungkook’s mouth. “You really want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

“I am a good boy. I’m so good for you. I’ll be so good.”

Taehyung wraps his lips around Jungkook’s dick again. You respond, “Then beg me for it.”

“Please. Please, let me fuck you. I want you both more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I’d give up my magic for you to fuck me right now. Please.”

You dismount his face and run your hand through his hair as you stand next to the bed. Taehyung crawls up the bed on top of Jungkook and presses his mouth to Jungkook’s glistening one. He moans into JK’s mouth. “I love tasting her on you.” He pushes his tongue into Jungkook’s mouth and grinds against him a little. Jungkook slides his hands up Taehyung’s shirt and presses his fingers against his firm skin. Taehyung pulls his shirt over his head and throws it aside.

“I want you to watch yourself fuck her. Babygirl, I want you to watch him fuck you.” He pulls his wand from his pocket and waves it in the air. The mirror from the corner moves closer. Taehyung whispers something in Jungkook’s ear that you can’t hear. He pushes himself off of Jungkook and moves toward you. He catches your chin between his thumb and pointer finger and angles your face to kiss him. You can taste yourself on him from Jungkook, and you feel your pussy clench at the thought. You continue moving your mouth against Tae’s, and you slide your hands down his torso and catch his belt. You undo it and the button to his pants.

You whine when Tae pulls your hands away. “Patience,” he whispers and guides you to the bed. You position yourself in front of Jungkook on your hands and knees, spreading your legs a little so he can see how wet you are for him and because of him.

Jungkook grabs your hips and lines himself up with your entrance, but he does not enter you. You turn to him and say, “you’ve been a good boy. You may fuck me now.” He sighs in relief and pushes himself inside of you. You whimper at the stretch of his dick on your walls, but the sensation is already overwhelming to your sensitive cunt. Jungkook lets you adjust, and when you are ready, you push your ass back against him gently. He moans then starts to roll his hips into you.

You look to the side, and the mirror is positioned perfectly that you can see how Jungkook looks fucking you. He’s so perfect. He has his hands on your hips, digging in so hard that his finger tips are white. He toned thighs and torso look delectable naked and behind you. His hair falls in his eyes, and he keeps licking his lips. The thing you focus on the most is the way that his dick looks sliding in and out of you, shiny with your arousal. You watch it going in and out you and bring a hand in between your legs to rub your clit.

In the mirror, you see Taehyung position himself in front of you, his dick in his hand. How did he and Jungkook end up being so hot and still having big dicks? You turn your head to it, and you look up at Taehyung. “Use your mouth,” he orders.

You take his length in your hand pumping a few times, rolling your tongue around the head. Jungkook’s thrusts get faster behind you, and you look in the mirror again. The image of Jungkook snapping his hips behind you and Taehyung’s dick in your hand makes you moan loud. You lick all the way around Taehyung’s dick and then take the whole thing in your mouth. You moan around it a few times, taking it all the way into your throat and back out. Taehyung grips your hair firmly and lets out a few small groans. His sounds of pleasure make you feel accomplished and pride swells in your chest.

“Hyung, can I cum?” Jungkook huffs out.

Taehyung thrusts his hips involuntarily at the request, giving away his arousal for the man behind you.

“Yes, you’ve been good. Cum inside. Fill our y/n up.”

Jungkook snaps his hips erratically a few more times before he is coming inside of you. You can feel shot after shot filling your pussy up. You moan as you feel him painting your insides with his ropes of cum. Jungkook collapses on your back and holds you against his chest.

He finally pulls out of you, and you lie on your back on the bed. Jungkook lies down next to you, spent. You still have your t-shirt on, and it is sticking to your skin. Taehyung slides his fingers under the hem and pulls it over your head. He has his wand in his hand again. He produces an ice cube that he holds gently between his fingers. He brings it to his mouth and presses it against his lips, and the heat between your legs intensifies, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

Taehyung takes the cube and brings it to your breast, tracing slow circles until he’s at your nipple. You cry out in surprise and pleasure. The cold sensation causes your back to arch off the bed. He removes the ice from your nipple and runs it over Jungkook’s, causing him to writhe against the mattress and grab your hand. Taehyung goes back and forth between your skin and Jungkook’s until the ice cube has fully melted. He licks the water off your skin then off Jungkook’s skin.

“Open your legs for me,” he says to you as he waves his wand over his hand again. This time the ice cube in his hand has a rounded shape. He rubs it on each of your nipples then traces it down your chest and belly, across your mound and down your outer lips. He takes the ice and rolls it gingerly over your clit. A guttural moan escapes from your chest at the frigid contact against your skin that feels like it’s on fire. He continues to pass the ice cube between your folds, specifically over your clit.

He presses his mouth against your center and sucks, collecting the water, your arousal, and Jungkook’s cum on his tongue. Then he rolls the ice over you again. Jungkook leans over and kisses your mouth while Tae focuses on your cunt. Jungkook takes your already sensitive nipples between his fingers and moves in the motions he knows drive you crazy. You can’t hold still against the mattress. You need relief.

“Tae, I need you to fuck me now. Fuck JK’s cum into me. I want you both inside of me.”

Tae removes his hands from you. He stands up straight and takes his cock in hand. “I’ve waited so long to fuck both you. I don’t want it to end.” His dominating demeanor disappears for a second.

“Oh, Tae, the best part about being in a relationship with both of us is that you get to fuck us all the time now. You don’t have to worry. We will do it more. Hopefully a lot more.”

His confidence returns. He takes his cock and runs it up and down your folds, collecting your arousal, heating the skin that was cold from the ice. He pushes into you and moans. “I can feel how wet you are. I can feel all of Jungkook inside you. Wanna fill you up too.”

“Then fill me up, Tae. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Jungkook, kiss me.” Tae continues pressing in and out of you slowly while Jungkook sits up to meet Taehyung’s demands. He captures Tae’s lips and they kiss each other, all teeth and tongue. Tae keeps one hand on your hip and brings one hand to tangle in Jungkook’s hair. While they kiss, Jungkook brings his hand to your clit. His thumb starts rubbing rough, unforgiving circles. You wiggle under the overstimulation, but Tae’s hand holds you firmly against the mattress. You feel the edges of your vision blurring, and you feel the tightness in your stomach.

As you pinch your eyes shut, you focus on the feeling of the two men fucking you. Your mind goes dark with small sparkles of light dancing behind your eyelids as you cum harder than you’ve ever cum before. You feel your pussy clenching around Tae over and over. You feel a rush like water washing over you, and then you start to come back into the present. You open your eyes and both men are looking down at you with smiles on their faces. Tae picks up the pace of his hips and thrusts several more times, with a shout he cums inside of you.

You feel it fill you and start to drip down you as he continues to fuck his and Jungkook’s cum into you. You moan at the idea. Once he comes down from his high, Jungkook gets on his knees. Tae pulls his dick out of you, and Jungkook uses his mouth to clean him off, then he turns to you and licks your folds. He swallows all the cum that he can reach and looks up at Taehyung with a smile.

Tae lifts him off the floor and lowers him onto the bed with you. He goes and collects both of your underwear and brings them to you. He then makes sure that the blanket on the bed is covering both of you. Once the two of you are covered and warm, he climbs in between you and lies down. You both turn to him and rest your heads on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat and his breathing. He rubs patterns on your bare back with his fingertips.

“Do you need or want anything other than cuddles? How can I take care of you?” Tae asks both of you.

“Just hold me,” you say.

“Tell me how you feel,” Jungkook mumbles, seemingly in his sleep.

“I know it’s early for me to say this, but I love you both so much,” Tae whispers as you are starting to drift off.

“I love you too Tae. I love you Jungkook,” you say, voice heavy with sleep.

“Love you both,” Jungkook says without opening his eyes. He curls deeper into Taehyung’s side and grasps your hand. The three of you fall asleep there like that, and it’s the best night sleep you have had in years.

***********

The rest of the year flies by. All three of you are preparing for your NEWTs, so you don’t have as much time to spend together. You all still make time, one night a week, to spend together in the Room of Requirement. Cuddling up with Jungkook and Taehyung makes you feel safe and loved like you never have before.

You find yourself ignoring the glares and scoffs that you get from people who see you walking with your fingers laced in Tae’s, Jungkook’s arm slung around your shoulders. You don’t care as long as you have the two of them.

During the week of NEWTs, Jungkook makes you tea with honey every night to help you get good sleep, and he rubs Tae’s back for him. To Jungkook the exams are less important, but he realizes that both of you need to do well to achieve your dreams.

By the last day of school, Jungkook has four offers from different national Quidditch teams to choose from, and you and Tae are eagerly awaiting your results to see if you were accepted into Auror training.

The three of you spend a lot of time at Jungkook’s house that May, trying to help Jungkook decide where he wants to play, deciding what you all will do if Jungkook has to move. One mid-May day, you receive a letter from the Ministry of Magic. Your heart pounds against your sternum, and you feel lightheaded. You run across the street to JK’s parents’ house and hold it out to him when he answers the door.

“Do you want me to open it?” he asks. You nod slowly.

He opens the letter and takes his time reading each word. His expression is unreadable when he lifts his eyes. Your mind starts running through all the possibilities. Maybe you failed the Herbology NEWT, and now you can’t be an Auror.

“You’re going to be an Auror, baby!!” Jungkook exclaims, holding the letter out to you.

You immediately begin crying. “Shut up. No, I’m not. Don’t look at me.” You read the letter to yourself, and you see that it’s true. You’ve been accepted into the Ministry’s Auror Training Program. You are going to get to train with HARRY FREAKING POTTER. You hear the phone ringing, and Jungkook’s mom tells him that the call is for him. He comes back a few minutes later.

“How lucky am I?” he says, beaming. “Both of my amazing, intelligent, fucking hot partners are going to be Aurors!”

You are elated that Taehyung is going to be joining you. There is no other witch or wizard that you would rather have by your side, even Potter.

Ultimately, Jungkook decides to stay in London to play Quidditch because, as he says, “he just can’t be that far away from his loves.” The three of you find a flat together in the city and begin your lives together.

On the first day of Auror training, Jungkook walks you and Taehyung to the entrance and kisses you both on the forehead.

“You’re going to do amazing. I love you both. You are both so special to me.”

You and Tae exchange the sentiment and then head into your respective bathrooms. When you come out of the fireplace inside the Ministry of Magic, you clasp one another’s hands, walking in to the rest of your life.

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x taehyung x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts hogwarts au #bts smut #btswritingcafe #taehyung x y/n #jungkook imagine #dom!taehyung #smutcentralnet

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logical-little-lies · 4 years

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{Chapter 5- When The Other Brother is Bigger}//Soft, Cute, and Far Smarter Than You (Sanders Sides Agere/CGLRE)

A/N: This chapter is like, longer then most of the ones I tend to write? I write agere content for fun, so sometimes it's cuteness over quantity, y'know? But this is a whole 4600-ish words! Wow. Hope y'all like it!

Logan was a bit awkward when he was big again after throwing his first fit, and earning himself his first ever timeout. Of course, Patton could only comfort him so much. It wasn't guilt that he was feeling, but rather a form of embarrassment.

Logan's head shot up when he heard light knocking on his door the following afternoon. "Who is it?" he questioned from his spot at his desk, where he sat working on Thomas's schedule.

"It's Virgil, can I come in?"

Logan fully expected it to be Patton checking on him for the millionth time, so he was shocked when he heard the voice of the emo regressor. "Uh, yeah. Sure." Logan set down his pen softly, reaching forward for his mug and taking a sip.

"Are you drinking another cup of coffee? I know you had like, three this morning." Virgil narrowed his eyes. It wasn't as if he'd actually do anything, even if he was aware of the unhealthy amounts of coffee Logan drank, but he was still concerned.

"It's tea." Logan shook his head, tipping the cup in his direction so that he could see the clearish liquid before setting the mug back on his desk. "Did you need something, Virge?" Logan asked.

"Kinda of.." Virgil trailed off, sitting down on the end of Logan's bed. When he looked up, he saw Logan looking at him in an expecting silence. "So I know it's Patton's job to check in on you and stuff, and that I don't usually do this. But..are you okay after yesterday? You seemed really emotional and anxious."

Logan sighed before speaking. "Of course I'm fine. I just overreacted when Patton punished me because I was scared of him being mad at me. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but three year old me doesn't want to make sense."

Virgil chuckled a bit at that. "It does make a bit of sense though. I do it too, I assume that just because Roman has to be a little strict or something, that he absolutely hates me. It's not stupid or anything."

Logan nodded, giving him a small thankful smile. This was Virgil's way of telling him that he wasn't alone. The same mutual feeling that came about when they both realized they were regressors spread between them. A feeling of unity, of support.

Of family.

"And also, if you're embarrassed or anything, don't worry about it. I'm sure Patton understands that little you is going to do things like that sometimes, and he won't view big you any differently." There it was. Virgil finding what Logan was actually worried about. Logan had the urge to give a sigh of relief, because those were the words he needed to hear.

Instead, he gave a larger smile and thanked him. "Okay, cool. See you at dinner." Virgil got up and went to leave the room, he paused at the door with hesitancy, looking back at him and speaking quickly.

"Also, I'm like pretty sure Patton has a crush on big you. So there's that."

Virgil was gone and out of the room before Logan even got the chance to retort.

Logan sighed, going back to organizing the schedule and trying to convince himself that it couldn't possibly be true, and focus on his work. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind wondered and he thought:

What if Virgil was right?

"Oh, hello Logan. I went to check on you but I guess you were already up." Patton entered the living room, where Logan was on his phone. Patton assumed that if Logan was already up, he probably had work to get done today and wanted to be wide awake for it. He figured that the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of Logan confirmed his original thoughts.

"Morning, Dad. What are we having for breakfast?" he asked, looking up from his phone and making Patton pause in his tracks. Patton went to speak, but Logan quickly replied to his unasked question. "I'm fourteen again, by the way."

"How did you know that I was going to-"

"I figured you'd ask how old I am, you always do. Anyways, what's for breakfast?" he repeated. "I can try to make something myself but I don't know how well that would go..." he admitted.

"It's okay,don't worry about that." Patton assured, "I'll make toast for breakfast-" He went to keep speaking but Logan cut him off.

"Do we have Crofters to put on it?"

"You're just full of questions today, aren't you?" Patton teased, deciding to come sit with his regressor. He sat next to Logan, making sure not to look at his phone screen in order to respect his privacy. Logan turned it off, looking at him. Patton realized he wasn't amused by the teasing and that he wasn't going to respond. "Yes, we have Crofters." He gave up.

Logan was definitely excited about this, and if he was regressed younger, he would've bounced in place and giggled a bunch. But he just replied, "Okay, cool."

"Why are you up so early?" Patton questioned. "How long have you been awake?"

"Less than an hour. I just fell asleep watching Youtube last night, earlier then I usually go to sleep. So I woke up early," he explained. Patton paused, looking at him skeptically.

"Were you regressed last night, as well?"

Logan looked at him with wide eyes, as if he hoped he wasn't going to ask about that. "Uh..yeah, sort of. But it was after dinner and I was ready for bed, I didn't really need to come get you!" he defended.

Patton gave him a slightly stern look with a sigh. "Alright, but if you do need something, or regress younger then your teenspace, come and get me." he instructed. Logan nodded with an annoyed look on his face. Patton glanced at the coffee table, eyes widening when he saw the coffee mug again.

"Wait, why are you drinking coffee if your reg-"

"What coffee?" Logan cut him off, quickly snatching up the mug and chugging the last of it before Patton could take the mug. He wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand, giving Patton a dorky smile. Patton knew he shouldn't have, but he laughed a bit.

"Fourteen year olds shouldn't have coffee, no more." Patton took the mug from him softly. "If I catch you drinking anymore, you'll be in trouble." he threatened halfheartedly, still giving him the stern dad look. Logan immediately replied with a cheeky smile.

"You just won't catch me next time."

Patton seemed shocked. "You're gonna be bouncing off the walls whenever the caffeine kicks in, and I don't wanna be the one to deal with that."

"I mean..." Logan leaned back into the couch, "Do you have a choice? You're technically my only carer, and I've already drank it. And plus, I'm not a baby. Sugar and caffeine won't make me hyper." he scoffed at the end of his statement.

"We'll see about that, sweetheart." Patton gave him a skeptical look before getting up. "I'll go start breakfast, how about you get off your phone and do something else? Like read your comic books or something."

"I'll get off my phone..." Logan agreed quickly, shocking Patton. That excitement went away when Logan grabbed the tv remote and pushed the power button. He gave Patton a smile, while Patton gave him a disappointed look.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." he said, crossing his arms as he watched him locate Netflix.

"I don't know anything. You told me to get off my phone,and in all technicality, I did." Logan started playing whatever show he was interested in at the time, and Patton leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He wasn't going to bother with pushing it anymore.

"Love you, Lo. I'll let you know when breakfast is ready."

He left, mug in his hand, disappearing into the kitchen. A little while later, he had butter,honey, and Crofters jelly sitting out on the table, along with a plate of stacked up pieces of toast.

"Babyyyy! Can you get Roman and Virgil for me?" He appeared in the door way of the kitchen, looking at whatever Logan was watching on the screen. Logan looked back at him, looking back to the screen after a few seconds of thinking.

"Maybe if you'd stop calling me baby."

"Logan." Patton stated in a simple and stern tone, crossing his arms again. Logan dramatically sighed, but he hopped up and headed up the stairs. "Thank you!" Patton called after him.

"Welcome, dad." Logan replied quickly, before he was completely up the stairs and heading toward the door of Virgil's room.

"Hi, Logan. Is it breakfast already?" Virgil swung the door open. The makeup under his eyes was smeared a bit, and he was still wearing black ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. He had fallen asleep in his clothes, and his hair was a bit messy.

"Yeah, Dad made toast for everyone. And he sent me to get you guys." Logan replied. Virgil went to open his mouth, probably to question if he was regressed due to his sue of the word 'dad', but Logan replied to his unasked question just like his did with Patton. "I'm fourteen again, before you ask about it."

Virgil gave an understanding nod. He walked back into his room, leaving the door open so that Logan could come in if he wanted to. "Okay dork, I was given the job of grocery shopping. If you want, and your caregiver doesn't care, you can come with me." Virgil offered as he picked up his hoodie that was balled up on a dark purple bean bag chair.

"Maybe if you didn't call me a dork, I'd consider it." Logan hesitantly entered the dark-styled room, his arms crossed.

"Oh come on, you're wearing a spiderman t-shirt and a beanie. You're either a nerd or a dork, take your pick." Virgil teased. Logan now wanted to cover up his shirt, and he pulled the black beanie off of his head. "Hey, wait. I didn't mean it like that," Virgil quickly finished pulling the hoodie on, and he came over to where Logan stood, taking the hat softly from his hands. "I was only teasing, dorky isn't bad, and the hat and shirt look good on you."

He pulled the hat back over Logan's head, patting his head. "I'm sorry I teased you," Virgil apologized.

"It's okay..." he looked up, so that he wasn't staring at the floor anymore, giving him a weak smile. His eyes wandered over Virgil's hoodie, but he didn't say anything.

"Do...do you want my jacket, buddy?" Virgil hesitated, but Logan nodded a little.

"I-is that okay?" he stuttered a bit, he couldn't place why he wanted it, it just looked comfortable. Maybe the fact that it also belonged to someone he considered his brother while regressed factored into it.

"Yeah, of course it's okay. Just make sure to give it back to me when you're big again, okay?" he pulled it off, handing it to Logan, who smiled. Virgil didn't usually give his hoodie to anyone, but the middle seemed to want it fairly badly and he knew that Logan would take care of it. Plus, he had his old hoodie to wear if he really wanted too.

"Go get Roman and head downstairs, okay? I'm gonna be down in a sec," Virgil told him. Logan nodded, leaving the room and pausing in the hallway to pull the jacket on.

"Roman, Roman, Roman!" he knocked on the door loudly between each time he called his name, "Breakfast is downstairs..." he spoke sheepishly when the door flew open and Roman gave him a stern look. Roman knew for a fact that he was at least somewhat regressed because of how energetically he woke him up.

"Did you have coffee or something?" he asked jokingly, rubbing at his eyes. Logan nodded quickly, and Roman seemed shocked. "Is your caregiver aware of this?"

Logan nodded again, "He doesn't like it, but he knows."

"Hmm, well please tone is down a bit while I'm still half asleep, okay? I need beauty sleep."

"Beauty sleep whatever, Dad sent me to wake you up." He stuck his tongue out at the end of his statement

"I'm assuming we're stuck with teen Logan again?" Roman questioned, running his fingers through his hair.

"Fourteen." Logan confirmed. Constantly confirming with others that he was in fact, in teenspace, reminded him that he was a teenager at the moment and that was okay.

"The sassiness and dorky beanie gave it away." he teased. Logan pouted, this was the second time his hat had been called dorky within the span of ten minutes. "Dorky isn't bad." Roman corrected quickly, just as Virgil had. Logan nodded, turning to walk away without another word.

"Logan, are you wearing Virgil's jacket?" Roman realized, looking at him.

Logan nodded shyly, turning back around to face him. "Hmm, that's cute. Just make sure not to stain it, or you'll never hear the end of it from Vee." he gave a reassuring smile, Logan nodding gratefully and walking off, for real this time. He had been worried that Roman was going to pick on him for taking Virgil's jacket.

Logan went downstairs, going into the living room to get his phone off of the coffee table. Once he had acquired this, he went into the kitchen and greeted Patton. "They should be heading down soon. Look! Virgil let me steal his jacket," he laughed a bit, doing a twirl for his caregiver.

"That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?" Patton asked, and Logan looked down.

"No, I didn't..." he sighed guiltily.

"Well, make sure you do at some point, okay?" Patton told him, coming closer to him and giving him a forehead kiss. Or at least, he tried to. Logan ducked away before he could, stepping to the side. Patton audibly gasped, looking at him. Logan giggled, sticking his tongue out like he did earlier to Roman.

"You're silly, kiddo." Patton shook his head, patting Logan's head softly before moving on to do something else. Logan pouted, because he expected Patton to go in for another forehead kiss after missing the first one, but he just kept going. Logan told himself that he was being a dork anyways, and that being playful was something for littler him, and that his caregiver didn't need to play along.

He didn't need to play, he was a teenager. He didn't need affection either, no hugs or cuddles or kisses.

But even as a teenager, Logan craved exactly that.

He watched Patton as he plated breakfast for himself, buttering the bread. Logan took action before he could stop himself, side hugging Patton by ducking under his arm. He wrapped his arms around his carer and laid his head on his chest. Patton chuckled, "Hello there, baby."

He dropped the butter knife back on his plate, and set the piece of bread down in favor of hugging Logan back. He hugged him tightly, Logan melting into the touch. "You know, you could just ask for a hug instead of attacking me."

"What hug? I don't need a hug," Logan replied, pulling away from him and grabbing a plate off of the stack on the table.

"The hug you just pulled away from..." Patton seemed confused.

"I never hugged you, dad. You're crazy," Logan kept going, making himself breakfast and acting as if he never hugged him. Patton brushed it off for now and didn't worry about it, because Virgil and Roman entered the kitchen.

Patton greeted them, and as they all sat down to eat, Virgil mentioned taking Logan to the store with him. "Um..well, I'm not sure if that's a good idea..." Patton admitted, setting his piece of toast down on his plate. Virgil seemed confused, as did Logan.

"Why not?" Logan questioned, looking at his caregiver with a confused glance.

"Well, I've never taken you outside of the house while regressed, I'm just worried that someone might see you acting younger and be mean." Patton explained, and Logan frowned.

"Logan's a teenager though, and I'll be there to help if anything like that happens. It's not like he'll throw a fit or anything, he's fourteen." Virgil argued.

"Last time he regressed to teenspace, he was so anxious that he practically threw a fit!" Patton snapped, not exactly shouting. He looked at Virgil with somewhat angry eyes. Patton never gave that look, unless someone he was protecting someone he cared about. Logan sunk down in his seat, zipping up Virgil's hoodie and hiding away from the world for the time being. Virgil raised his hands up in mock surrender before speaking.

"Patton, I'm sorry that I upset you, but please be mindful of Logan. You're probably scaring him by snapping." Virgil reminded. Patton's expression faded from anger to an apologetic look, and he looked toward Logan,who nodded a bit.

"Oh..I'm sorry sweetheart. And you too, Virgil...Just let me think about this and we'll talk after breakfast, okay?"

Virgil gave a nod of agreement, and Logan muttered a weak 'okay'.

Patton eventually agreed to let Logan go with Virgil, but not without a lot of convincing and second guessing his decision.

"Promise that you'll be nice to Virgil, and if you get to anxious-"

"Let Virgil know and step away to text you." Logan interrupted, pocketing his phone and looking at his dad. "I'm not a baby, and I'll be fine."

"Yeah, he's safe with me." Virgil assured, coming down the stairs, clad in his old hoodie and a pair of black ripped skinny jeans. "We're good, right?" he looked at Logan, double checking just to be sure.

Logan laughed, "We're good." he confirmed.

"Oh, okay. I love you both, be good," he looked at Logan, as if he needed the reminder, "And please be home before dinner."

Both boys nodded, taking their final hugs from Roman and Patton before heading out. Virgil let Logan sit in the passenger seat

The mindscape was set up to be a small, little town. It wasn't one that existed in the real world, but it was heavily based off of the real world and would change according to real world events. If they really wanted to, the mindscape extended past their imaginary town, it was a whole little world just inside Thomas's head.

"Okay, so I have a shopping list on my phone, and the grocery money we all pitch in for. Though I found that there's always a little extra money, so if you want an extra snack or whatever, go for it." Virgil spoke, stopping as they approached a red light. He looked around, his eye catching on a street sign as he assured himself that he was going the right way.

Logan nodded. He was usually the one to go on the grocery runs, so he already knew about how he slightly over estimated how much money they needed. He'd usually either buy something extra, a treat or dessert, or save it for the next shopping trip. They all got their limited allowance (for the whole 'realistic human life' thing), and they'd pitch in a certain amount of it to pay for food for their home.

"Is there anything you want for the store? That isn't already on the usual list, I mean?" Virgil asked. He was trying to start a conversation, but Logan was being quiet. That was the main reason he offered to take him with him for errands. Virgil wanted to spend more time with his newfound brother, though he'd never admit that out loud. Virgil and Logan regress together all the time, and there's been plenty of time where Logan is bigger than Virgil, but it's rarely the other way around.

Virgil wanted to know Logan more, and also earn his trust. Because it seemed that currently, the only person Teenage Logan really trusted, was Patton.

"I don't know, maybe one of those starbucks bottled frappe things?" Logan said hopefully, giving his, currently older, brother a look in the hopes that he didn't shoot it down immediately.

"Hmm, Patton wouldn't be to happy about that one...and if he found out, he'd be pretty mad at me." Virgil thought out loud, anxiously biting at his lip while he focused on the road. Logan sunk down in his seat in disappointment, immediately taking his hesitancy as a 'no' and looking out the window.

Virgil sighed, glancing at him for a split second before turning his head to examine the road in front of him. "I suppose...if you promise not to tell your caregiver, and you also don't get like, super hyper on me..." he pauses, taking a turn before continuing his conditional agreement, "You can get the coffee. But this is a one time thing, I don't condone littles-" Logan gave him a look.

"Middles?" he hesitantly corrected himself, glancing at Logan again.

"Or regressors." Logan nodded. Virgil hummed before continuing.

"I don't condone teenagers drinking a bunch of caffeinated drinks in one day. I know you had coffee this morning. But today's the exception, alright?"

Virgil was only agreeing to this because he wanted to make Logan happy. And he didn't quite mind stretching the rules just a bit to get there.

"Okay." Logan agreed, looking back out the window.

Virgil had a feeling that this would end up being a good day.

Or at least, he hoped it would.

"Virgil, I know I said I'd be okay..but I'm scared."

Virgil stopped in the middle of the cereal aisle, pulling the cart to the side so that people could walk through if they needed. Logan seemed ashamed to admit that, looking up at his, currently older, brother for support. Logan fiddled with the zippers on the cuffs of Virgil's jacket.

"What are you scared of, Logan?" Virgil spoke softly to him, in a voice that seemed to assure that he'd be ready to comfort him no matter what his answer.

"Dad was right, it's my first time going out while regressed and I feel..." he trailed off, his eyes following a cart as a family walked by the aisle. "I feel stupid. Like people are staring a me or something." He looked back at Virgil, who nodded.

"That's okay. I've never been out while regressed, but I'm sure it is a bit scary. I'm sorry that you aren't feeling the best, though." Virgil sighed, not quite knowing what to do. He thought for a moment before offering the best solution he could come up with. "How about you call Patton and talk to him while we shop? I think he'd be the best at comforting you right now."

Logan nodded lightly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Virgil gave him a reassuring smile before pulling a few boxes of cereal from the shelf. As Virgil motioned for them to keep walking, Logan listened to his phone ring.

"Logan! Are you okay?" Logan winced at how loud Patton's voice seemed through the phone.

"Mhm, I'm okay. Just a bit anxious though...can you talk to me? I-i think it'd help." his voice was filled with hesitancy, but Virgil gave him a comforting look that silently told him 'good job'.

"Oh, yeah. I can talk to you. Do you wanna tell me why you're feeling anxious, baby?"

"I um...you were right," Logan fiddled with the zippers on Virgil's hoodie again, taking a turn into a aisle with bread and snacks. "I kinda started panicking the moment I got into the store. There's so many people, and so much noise. I'm just worried that I'm being judged, I guess." he hummed, glad that there was no one else in their aisle.

"I'm sure that everything is okay, sweetheart. Listen to me, not all the noise, okay?"

Logan nodded, then realizing that Patton couldn't see him through the phone. "Okay."

"Can you tell me what you guys have gotten so far?" Logan was confused by his caregivers request, but he looked in the cart as Virgil set something in it.

"We got Crofters! And butter, and bread." he identified a few items, looking at a few others.

"We can make more toast!" Patton cheered. Logan laughed at that.

"Uh, we have like three boxes of cereal in the cart. And coffee cakes! There's also macaroni..." Logan kept going, not realizing that Patton had successfully distracted him from his anxiety for the time being. Patton spoke in a calm, caring voice all the way through their shopping trip.

"We're heading up to checkout now. I'll text you when we're on our way home," Logan spoke into the phone, following Virgil's guide through the front part of the store.

"Alright. You feel better now, right?" Patton assured.

"Yeah, thanks dad. I'll see you later." Logan hung up the phone, pocketing it and taking a deep breath.

"Feeling better?" Virgil questioned softly. Logan hummed.

He felt almost pathetic for having to call his dad to coach him through a simple shopping trip, but he also felt a lot more at ease. He couldn't quite place why he didn't just pull himself out of middlespace if it really bothered him that much, it almost felt like it'd be to tiring to do. He was getting used to being able to regress whenever and not have to repress it, so when the time came that he might of had to, it felt to hard.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Are we heading home after this?" Logan asked, redirecting the conversation swiftly.

"No, actually. If you're okay with stopping somewhere else first, I mean." Virgil didn't elaborate on where they could possibly be going, which confused Logan.

As they checked out and scanned their items, Logan kept bugging Virgil about where they were headed. "It's a surprise. I'm sure you'll like it, though."

"But Virge! I wanna know!" he whined, handing Virgil his iced coffee to scan.

"Hmm, well that's to bad." he teased. "You'll see when we get there."

Virgil has had this idea since he realized that Logan regressed to teen ages. He was only able to convince Patton to let him take Logan because he revealed his little plan, the second stop that Logan would definitely be excited about. Of course, Logan couldn't know what it was quite yet.

"Virgilll!" he pouted, giving him pleading eyes.

"The pouty face only works when you're a toddler, Lo. Just be patient," he told him, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and looking at the total on the self checkout screen. He counted the money quickly.

"Will a candy bar shut you up?" he asked, pulling a few dollars from the stack.

"That only works when I'm a toddler," Logan mimicked him. It was true, if any of the sides needed to distract Logan while he was little, a piece of candy would do the trick. Of course, it would backfire in half an hour when he got hyper and bouncy, but it works in the moment.

Virgil raised his eyebrows, waving the three one dollar bills in his hand. Logan rolled his eyes, snatching them away. "Fine, I'll be back in a sec."

He disappeared to go pick out some candy, leaving Virgil to chuckle.

Virgil was glad he did this. He felt bad for putting Logan in a situation where he was anxious, but he could still say that they were having a decent time so far. And he was sure Logan would love the next place they were headed to.

There was just one question Logan had.

Where were they going?

A/N: Okay so this chapter is jam-packed! I finally hinted towards the romance part of this story, which won't really be a main focus, like at all. It focuses on the agere, and here and there there will be some cute fluffy shippy things. Lmk what you think of this chapter by commenting, reblogging, or sending me asks! (Depends on if you're reading through Tumblr or Wattpad!)

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myforeverforlife · 4 years

Text

the sacrifice (part three).

Baekhyun sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes as he stared up at the night sky. The moonlight seemed to be reflected in his one blue eye, the mark of his family's magic. If he could prevent the loss of another innocent life, he would do everything in his power to help.

He only hoped that what he had was enough.

Series Masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 )

Pairing: Baekhyun and Fem reader

Word Count: 5,894

Masterlist

Your legs were falling asleep from staying in one position for too long, but you didn't mind. Not when Tanie was lying contentedly in your lap, her fluffy tail lazily sweeping the floor below her.

"You're such a pretty cat, aren't you," you cooed. Tanie meowed as you ran a hand through her fur, marveling at how soft she was. Clearly, Minseok took good care of her.

"Don't go stealing my familiar from me," Minseok joked, looking up from where he sat reading through a thick book. His reading glasses threatened to slip down the bridge of his nose, and he quickly pushed them back up.

"What is a familiar, anyways? A pet?"

"It's a lot more than a pet," Jongdae said, sitting up in his armchair. "A familiar has their own magic. They're meant to help a witch get in touch with the craft, to support their power. Once a familiar chooses their partner, the bond lasts for a lifetime." He grinned as Dotori's bushy tail tickled at the nape of his neck, the chipmunk sitting perched on his shoulder. "It's a deep friendship that lasts for centuries."

"Centuries?" Your eyes widened in disbelief. "How old can witches be?"

"Very old," Minseok said quickly.

Jongdae smirked, leaning forward in his seat. "Grandpa over there gets sensitive when it comes to age. I'm the youngest, and I barely had my 100th birthday a few years ago."

"A hundred?" you exclaimed. Tanie flinched at the sound of your voice, pupils shrinking to tiny pinpoints before she lay back down again.

"But you look so young! You hardly look any older than I do." A soft chuckle from behind you caught your attention, head whirling around to see Baekhyun amused by your reaction.

"Something about practicing the craft prolongs our lifespans," he said. "It keeps ancient people like Minseok alive enough to be a hun — "

Minseok leaped at him, the heavy book falling out of his lap as he threw his hands over Baekhyun's mouth. "Say another word, I dare you," he grumbled.

Baekhyun's body shook with laughter, eyes turning to crescent moons as he weakly pushed the other man off of him. His cheer was infectious, and gladly welcome after the stressful couple of days you all had. The four of you had been poring over books, starting with the revered family grimoires and moving on to the rest of the books in the library in search of a remedy. So far, you hadn't found anything that would rid Sehun of his illness.

At least the witches were comfortable around you now.

The animals had been the first ones to completely warm up to you, Dotori taking a spot on your shoulder whenever she wasn't with Jongdae. Mongryong was always trying to drag you outside to play, while Tanie was content with sitting on you for hours as you pet her.

Seeing how attached their familiars were with you already, it was only a matter of time before you got close to the witches as well. Minseok had been the first one you felt comfortable around, which didn't come as a surprise since he had been taking care of you since your arrival. You had befriended Jongdae over your mutual love of teasing Dotori, which annoyed the chipmunk to no end.

Even Baekhyun, cold and closed-off, was beginning to warm up to you. He was still quiet and reserved around you more than the others, but he managed to start up small conversations here and there. No longer did you have sit in a room with him and feel stifled by the awkward silence. Plus, having Jongdae and Minseok around always helped to bring out his playful personality.

It came as a relief that the three witches were starting to trust you. It was strange to realize that if things had been different, if the king hadn't supported the persecution of thousands of witches, you might have befriended the coven years earlier.

Minseok finally gave up on attacking Baekhyun, confident that the clairvoyant wouldn't be disclosing his age any time soon. "I hate to say it, but I haven't found anything yet that I think would cure the prince — not even the slightest bit. Illnesses of this degree usually require cures in the form of stronger, riskier magic."

Jongdae hummed in agreement, full of regret as he eyed the stack of books lying at his feet. "Neither have I." Throughout your search, both men had taken the time to explain why certain spells or concoctions wouldn't work for Sehun, Minseok drawing from his knowledge of potion-making and Jongdae from his affinity for spell-casting.

"We have to keep looking," you replied, carefully reaching out for your family grimoire. Tanie climbed out of your lap as you replaced her empty spot with the thick tome, running a hand over the cover. You had pored over the pages day after day, unable to find anything that would serve as a remedy for Sehun's specific symptoms.

"The answers may not be in these books," Minseok continued slowly, sensing how your anxiety was starting to bubble up. "But there is still something that we haven't tried."

"What is it?"

Minseok glanced over at Baekhyun, raising an eyebrow. "The full moon is in a few days. Perhaps the scrying stone will show you something that will help us."

A small frown settled on your lips. "But it hasn't shown us anything that we can use."

Baekhyun had already tried, locked in his room with only Mongryong for company as the rest of you waited outside. The stone hadn't been very helpful, only predicting a few changes in weather patterns and pesky bugs and animals threatening to eat through Minseok's garden sometime soon. You weren't sure what Baekhyun did when he was scrying, but you were already able to tell how fickle the skill was. The scrying stone always varied in what it chose to show, a few seconds of the future at one time, a few minutes the next. The only thing Baekhyun could do was wait and watch.

"A witch's power is at its highest during the full moon," Baekhyun explained. “It's become tradition for us to hold a ritual on the night of the full moon, to get in touch with the full extent of our magic."

"Do you think it'll work? That the crystal will lead us to a cure?" you added, eyes widening hopefully.

Baekhyun paused, searching for the right words. "I don't know,” he replied truthfully. "But I have a good feeling about it."

"Don't worry, little witch," Jongdae piped up. "Baekhyun's too modest about his abilities. The full moon's never failed him before."

You nodded, even as Baekhyun glared at his friend. "Okay. I trust you — all of you."

Baekhyun's expression softened, the genuine honesty in your words stirring up an emotion he hadn't felt in a while. He hadn't felt hope like this in ages, a feeling so strong, it was all-consuming.

It was almost like magic.

With a determined glint to his eye, Baekhyun stood up to stare out the window at the darkening afternoon sky. It would only be a couple of days before the full moon was upon them, whether they were ready or not.

"We'd better start preparing as soon as possible," Baekhyun murmured. "Gather all of the materials that we need."

"Is there anything that I can do to help?" you offered. Magic wasn't your thing, but helping prepare for the full moon? Maybe something you would have better luck with.

Baekhyun met your gaze, a full moon of his own nestled in his left eye. It never failed to surprise you how strikingly beautiful both of his eyes were — the brown and blue complementing each other.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You don't need to force yourself to participate in the ritual, much less help prepare for it."

You shook your head. "It's no bother to me," you admitted. "I want to learn about my family's craft. Plus, it'll help keep me from getting too tangled up in my worries."

Baekhyun quickly glanced over at the other two witches, all of them aware of the couple of times they had found you deep in thought, fighting internally with your own struggles and concerns. "Alright," he said.

"Let's get started."

It was amazing how much time was spent preparing for the ritual in the following days. You hadn't realized how much of practicing witchcraft actually consisted of gathering necessary materials. Minseok had taught you how to gather specific herbs to be burned during the ritual, venturing into the forest with you and Tanie. Some items needs to be picked at certain times, like a handful of yellow dandelions plucked early in the morning right as the sun began to rise. Others were less difficult to find, like a couple of bay leaves from the witches' garden.

Jongdae noticed how you took interest in the strange writing that you couldn't read, and offered to teach you how to read the language of the ancients. It was hard going at first, especially with getting used to a completely different set of written symbols in addition to an entirely new language. But soon enough, you were able to recognize certain letters of the alphabet here and there, much to Jongdae's delight.

While the other two witches taught you about specifics of the craft, Baekhyun took it upon himself to inform you about each step of the full moon's ritual. The four of you would set out late at night, setting everything up before starting the ritual at midnight. The full moon ritual was known for being extremely draining, but Baekhyun assured you that all of it was worth it for the results.

"Using magic on the night of the full moon, it's like nothing else. But it'll be a long night," he warned as both of you sat at the kitchen table. "We might not be back until dawn."

"I'll be fine," you told him, crushing some dried herbs that Minseok had brought up from the cellar. "Nothing like sitting in the cold, dark forest all night."

Baekhyun smiled to himself as you continued to crush the herbs with a mortar and pestle — a task that Minseok had assigned to you. "Make sure you don't fall asleep. It's important that all of us are awake and focused."

"Even if I don't have any magic?"

"Even so. Any break in concentration could interrupt the ritual, cut off access to our power."

You gulped in worry, the importance of the ritual creating cracks in your confidence. Tonight was the night, and it was only a few hours away before the four of you would be heading outside.

Baekhyun eyed you warily, noticing how quiet you had gotten. "It's not too late to back out, if you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid," you replied stiffly. "Just nervous."

"Isn't that the same thing?" The witch laughed when you glared at him, a sight that you still couldn't get used to. "I mean it, Princess. You don't have to participate if you don't feel like it."

You pouted at his choice in nickname for you. It had caught on with all three of the witches, even as you protested and explained that just because you were the crown prince’s cousin, you weren’t necessarily a princess. As much as you complained, you hated to admit that the nickname was already growing on you.

"If I'm not ready now, I don't know if I'll ever be." You returned to crushing the herbs in your bowl with renewed vigor, much to Baekhyun's amusement.

"What's bothering you?" he asked, watching lazily with his arms propped up against the wood of the table.

You worked away in silence for a bit, as if you hadn't even heard his question. "It's just that I have so many ideas about what I'm hoping will happen, and what if none of that turns out to be true? What if this is just another dead end?"

Baekhyun twiddled his fingers as he thought, the mole on his thumb disappearing and reappearing in between the movements of his hands. "It might be," he replied honestly. "I've learned that even with all of its power and potential, sometimes magic doesn't come to us in the ways that we want."

The sudden shift in the mood had you pause in the middle of your work, stopping the rhythmic beating of the pestle. "What do you mean?" you asked carefully.

Baekhyun raised his left eyebrow, the one curved over his blue eye. "Do you know what it means for someone in the Byun clan to have blue eyes?"

You shook your head. His mismatched eyes had intrigued you from the start, wondering what could cause such a unique contrast in colors, and yet you were too shy to ask.

"It's a sign of clairvoyance. My great-great-great-grandmother was the most skilled of our clan. I've heard that she had eyes so light, they almost looked white. She was powerful, not only able to see the future, but to change it as well. You can imagine my disappointment when I didn't even get the standard blue eyes of the Byun clairvoyants — just one." Baekhyun laughed dryly, sarcastically.

"But one is better than none," you argued weakly. "I mean, you have the ability."

"I do, but not as much as I wish I did. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with this other eye." He pointed at the pool of warm brown in his right eye, thinking of another person dear to him who once had eyes in the same brown color. "The same as my mother's," he added softly.

Baekhyun coughed suddenly, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "It's just always lingering in the back of my mind, you know? The fact that no matter how hard I try, I don't have the same abilities that my grandmother had."

"It might also be a good thing," you ventured. "It's not fair to have to live up to someone else's fame." With a shrug, you reached down to wipe your palms on your apron. "Sehun may be ill, but he's still a prince — and the only heir, to top it off. All his life, he's been groomed to be the perfect prince, the one to carry on the legacy of his family. But Sehun's not his father, or his grandfather, or anyone else. It's unfair to expect him, and you, to live up to meet standards that were set by someone else. The most that we can hope for is to be the best that we allow ourselves to be."

Baekhyun sat stunned by your sage advice. He had decades of experience on you, and yet you seemed so much wiser. Perhaps you weren't as naive as he thought. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome." And there it was again, another side to Baekhyun that you hadn't seen before. It made you wonder how much he and the others were learning about you as well, if they were just as surprised by what they discovered.

You weren't the only one learning something new everyday. And yet, there was still so much to discover.

The witching hour was almost upon you, much to your anticipation. Baekhyun was upstairs carefully wrapping up the scrying stone for the short journey the four of you would be taking, while the rest of you waited downstairs. Mongryong waited patiently at your feet, short stump of a tail wagging back and forth.

Unluckily for poor Mongryong, your attention was on Jongdae. He stood beside you, black cape and pointed hat on as Dotori scurried up from his shoulder. She made her way onto his hat, perched on the edge even as it began to droop down. With a short squeak, she began running around over the fabric, much to Jongdae's dismay.

"Hey, quit it!" Jongdae exclaimed, his shouts turning to giggles as the chipmunk scrambled down from his head. In a flash, she disappeared down the back of Jongdae's robes, rendering him a mess or flailing limbs and laughter.

You and Minseok watched on fondly, laughing at the sight of the chipmunk's tickle attack. Dotori reappeared at the collar of Jongdae's robes, tiny nose twitching in glee as she snuggled against him.

"Yeah, yeah. You can try and be all cute with me, but it won't work." Despite his words, Jongdae scooped the tiny fluff of a chipmunk up and indulged her in a few berries. "What did I say about playing around on my hat? You could fall off and hurt yourself."

Dotori only gave a small squeak before turning her attention back to her snacks. "Are all familiars as fond of their owners as she is?" you inquired, meeting the animal's eyes.

"Most are. I've heard of a few that are indifferent, but even those are fiercely loyal to their bonded." Jongdae shrugged. "No pairing is the same."

"Which is a relief," Minseok added with a wide grin. "I don't think I'd be able to handle either Dotori or Mongryong's energy." He leaned down to kiss the top of Tanie's head, the feline resting easily in his arms.

"I leave for two minutes, and you take this opportunity to insult my familiar?" Baekhyun's voice carried down the staircase as he descended. A bag was slung over his shoulder, presumably with the crystal inside. A midnight-blue robe was draped over his body, the fabric rippling smoothly with every step.

Mongryong dashed over to Baekhyun with a cheerful bark, smothering the witch with love as he jumped up against Baekhyun's legs. It was endearing to see how close the witches were with their familiars — from Jongdae's playful relationship with Dotori, to Minseok's easy companionship with Tanie, and Baekhyun and Mongryong's intense loyalty to each other. Funnily enough, they reminded you of how close you and Sehun were.

"Everyone's ready, then?" Jongdae asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

You nodded, even as you checked to make sure that all of the herbs and candles were tucked away neatly in your bag. The others would have things to carry as well, and you wouldn't hear of them shouldering heavy bags through the forest while you were left with nothing.

The four of you left the warmth and comfort of the house and went out into the frigid night air, goosebumps immediately rising on your skin. You turned to see Minseok putting his own pointed hat on to match Jongdae, while Baekhyun pulled the hood of his robe over his head.

"Why do you wear head coverings during the rituals?" you asked curiously, glancing from person to person. You had read about the tradition of wearing head coverings during the full moon rituals in one of the witches' books, but it had provided no explanation as to why.

The brothers shared a look, but Baekhyun simply shrugged. "No real reason. It's just fun."

Your brows jumped up in disbelief. "They're not important in affecting how the ritual goes? You don't wear them to help harness your magic?"

Baekhyun chuckled. "It's a hat, Princess. Or a cloak, in my case. It's not going to have any effect on our magic."

"Then why do you do it?" you spluttered out.

"Just for the fun of it." Noticing your flabbergasted expression, all three men burst into laughter.

"I don't see what's so funny," you grumbled in your embarrassment. "According to your reasoning, I could be out tonight wearing a handkerchief on my head, and it wouldn't make any difference." "You could, but that would be ridiculous." Baekhyun's lip curled into a smirk.

"No more than wearing a hat for no reason."

Minseok interrupted, wanting to settle the squabble and actually get some work done. "The ancient witches wore headcoverings to protect their identities as they snuck away to meet up in the middle of the night. Now, they're more of a fashion statement." He chuckled, tugging on Baekhyun's blue hood. "Now come on, before we lose our chance. We don't have time to wait for the next full moon."

That sobered everyone up quickly, your small group of witches heading even further into the forest. There were no paths, and most of the journey was spent walking carefully around obstacles with only the light of a lantern for help. Mongryong took on the task of scouting ahead, toddling off into the brush ahead as the rest of you followed. Jongdae even began singing to himself softly to keep himself awake, Baekhyun's voice weaving and blending in to harmonize with the other's. The night chirpings of insects hidden away in the forest added to their music, creating an unexpected melody.

You began to wonder if they were heading back to the stream where you first met Dotori. Mongryong let out a small yip of excitement as he wove back and forth between a cluster of bushes and trees. You followed after him, curious about what had gotten him so eager.

You ducked around a few low-hanging branches, pushing past the last of the greenery only to be rendered speechless in awe by what lay on the other side.

Where you had been expecting a slow moving river was instead a large body of still water, the moonlight reflected perfectly on its smooth surface. The sound of the insects was even louder out here, although you couldn't spot another living creature apart from your small group.

Mongryong walked to the water's edge, toeing the line but not going in. A sudden peal of laughter caught your attention, only to see Tanie mewling repeatedly as Minseok set her down on the pebbles that made up the lake's shore. The cat lifted up her paws gingerly, walking at an awkward angle as she scurried away back to the grass.

"We've been doing this for years, and she still hates walking on the rocks every time," Minseok explained to you with a grin. "If she could have things her way, I'd be carrying her all night."

Tanie finally relaxed as she reached the grass, settling down with her paws tucked underneath and her wise eyes watching over all of you.

Time was of the essence, and the witches wasted no time in setting up. Baekhyun and Minseok got started on making a small fire while Jongdae went to gather water. You watched as he pulled out a bowl from his knapsack, dipping it into the pond. As he lifted it back up, the excess water spilled out from the edges, so luminous that you could have sworn he was collecting liquid moonlight.

With steady, careful steps, Jongdae began to walk in large circles around the area where the rest of you were setting up, his pointed hat bobbing with each step. He was whispering to himself, casting a spell as he dipped his fingers into the bowl of water and letting the droplets fall to the ground every couple of steps. From what you had learned, the water was used to cleanse, to purify the area and to get it ready for the ritual. This was done to keep the magic contained, and to set up protection for the witches inside.

"Y/N, the herbs," Minseok said. You pulled out the small pouch of herbs that you had collected and ground up, proud of your contribution to the ritual. He opened the pouch up just as Baekhyun managed to get a flame going over the tiny pile of dry brush and twigs, a proud smile lighting up the clairvoyant's face.

"Perfect," Minseok breathed out, reaching inside the pouch and slowly letting the ground herbs fall into the fire, immediately producing a sharp fragrance that tickled your nose.

Baekhyun sat down on the bumpy, rock-blanketed ground and rummaged through his bag for his scrying stone. He pulled it out delicately, handling the rounded crystal with extreme care. Mongryong, finally done with playing at the edge of the lake, faithfully came over to lay down beside his owner. The corgi's eyes were fixed on the small crystal, waiting patiently.

You were just as entranced as Mongryong, not knowing what to expect. The crystal hadn't changed in appearance, even as Baekhyun ran his hands over it, eyes closed in concentration.

Jongdae shook out the last drops of water in his bowl before sitting down on your other side, four witches and a couple of familiars forming a ring around the small fire. "We're ready," he stated, adjusting the brim of his hat.

Minseok nodded, continuing to toss the ground-up herbs into the hot flame until none were left. Wordlessly, he reached out to Jongdae and Baekhyun, the other two immediately linking hands with him. You were startled to see them extend their hands towards you as well, waiting for you to complete the circle.

The queasiness in your stomach wasn't because you were scared of the witches — nothing could be farther from the truth. Instead, you were scared of the unknown. This could be your last real chance to find a way to save Sehun, to revive the brightness and vitality to his face that had slowly waned over time. If this didn't work, you weren't sure how you'd be able to deal with it.

But hope was all you had now. Hope, and magic.

You linked hands with the others, Jongdae's still slightly cold from the water while Baekhyun's was warm from sitting close to the fire.

Minseok closed his eyes and began to speak in the old language — the language of the ancient witches. A sudden chill ran down your spine, an unfamiliar tingling sensation prickling over your skin. The feeling almost made you let go, but Jongdae and Baekhyun held on tightly to your hands.

Was this what sorcery felt like?

The cold prickling sensation faded, leaving behind an unusual feeling that seemed to spread throughout your body. It was warmth and comfort all wrapped up in one, and yet left the hairs on your skin standing straight up.

You weren't sure how long the four of you sat there, hands clasped tightly while Minseok chanted under his breath. Baekhyun's earlier warning about staying away kept poking at you in the back of your mind, and you made an effort to keep your eyes open. You didn't dare to look at the others, staring down at your legs crossed beneath you for fear of getting distracted and losing focus.

After what felt like centuries later, Minseok opened his eyes. The after-effects of the ritual still lingered, the magical warmth keeping you cozy even as you sat outside in the cold.

The others finally let go, Baekhyun's hands immediately finding their way to the crystal resting in his lap. He cupped it with both hands, eyes fluttering closed as he inhaled deeply.

You let out a soft gasp as the crystal began to glow, swirling clouds appearing inside the tiny sphere. Even Mongryong was staring at it, his rounded eyes staring solemnly as everyone waited.

"It may take a while," Jongdae whispered to you. "Don't worry."

"What do we do?" you asked.

Jongdae stretched his arms up high above his head, letting out a long breath of air. "Now, we wait."

Honestly speaking, you were getting fed up with waiting. But you had learned by now that there was no rushing when it came to witchcraft. However, it didn't mean that you weren't bored.

Minseok had pulled out his reading glasses and taken another look through your family grimoire, even as you worried about him reading next to the fire. "I'll be fine," he waved you off easily, all too immersed in the book.

Jongdae had been content with giving Dotori small treats every so often, but eventually began to show signs of boredom as well. Both of you started up an impromptu game of seeing who could build the tallest pebble tower, stifling hushed giggles while Minseok rolled his eyes from across the fire. The game was quickly abandoned once a pebble fell over, clattering against the rocky floor as you and Jongdae both looked up to see Baekhyun's reaction.

The witch didn't move, although you could have sworn that there were wrinkles between his eyebrows that weren't there before.

It was absolute agony to wait for news — good or bad, but you supposed it was even worse for Baekhyun. Every so often, he would mumble to himself, the rest of you leaning in to hear what he had to say. Most of it was indecipherable, and the few words that you did catch didn't seem to make any sense.

All of a sudden, Baekhyun let out a loud gasp, eyes flying wide open. Mongryong immediately jumped up and began nosing at his hands.

"What? What is it?" Minseok demanded.

Baekhyun's hands were trembling, fingers tapping against the surface of the glass ball in an irregular rhythm. "A mountain," he said, voice so quiet you had to scoot closer to hear.

"A mountain, and an entrance. There's books lining the inside, covering all of the walls — almost like a library. The Cave of the Ancients." He stared at the crystal without blinking, hypnotized by what he saw inside.

Minseok's eyebrows jumped up in disbelief. "It's real?"

"What is the Cave of the Ancients?" you asked hesitantly, not wanting to distract Baekhyun.

"A children's tale," Minseok replied in a hushed whisper as Baekhyun continued to stare into the crystal. "They say that this is where the oldest, most powerful secrets are kept. But no one's ever been, and there's no proof that it exists."

"I see an open field," Baekhyun continued, "Beyond the kingdom's reaches, by the sea. It's covered in mist, and..." Baekhyun groaned, eyes closing shut. His breathing started to become irregular, chest heaving with each breath of air. Even Mongryong was starting to get agitated, whining loudly.

"Baekhyun, drop it," Jongdae exclaimed as Minseok reached forward to pry the clairvoyant's hands off of the crystal. You jumped in to help, Minseok finally managing to wrench Baekhyun's hands off of the sphere as you pulled it away.

The scrying stone lost its haziness, returning to its original glassy appearance in your palms.

Baekhyun was still panting, sweat beading on his pallid face as he pressed a hand to his chest. "I heard my mother," he gasped out. "She was in the field."

Jongdae's face turned white, mouth falling open in realization. "The Valley of Lost Souls."

With a low moan, Baekhyun nodded, head in his hands as Minseok tried to get him to drink from a canteen of water.

Your blood ran cold with fear. "What does that mean?" you asked Jongdae. For Baekhyun to react like this, it must have been something terrifying.

"In the myth about the Cave of the Ancients, it's said that to reach it, one must first pass through the Valley of Lost Souls. It's not supposed to be real." Jongdae ran a hand over his face, fingers stopping at his chin as he watched Baekhyun worriedly.

"Neither is the Cave of the Ancients," Minseok added. He used some of the drinking water to dampen a rag, pressing the cold cloth to Baekhyun's forehead. "You're sure of what you saw?"

"It's like I was right there. She was calling out to me." Baekhyun's voice broke at the end.

"But it wasn't her," Minseok reasoned calmly. "In all of the stories, the people in the Valley are only illusions, remember? They'll take your soul if you wander too far." He shook his head. "I don't like this. There has to be another way to find a cure."

"We have to go. It's what the stone showed me, and there's been no other answer." A healthy pink flush was slowly returning to Baekhyun's skin, chasing away the eerie, chalky pallor that had been there only minutes ago. "We made a pact to save not only the prince, but the rest of the witches that still remain. We're doing this so that we don't have to hide in fear anymore, Min. It's a risk that we have to take."

Minseok sighed. "I'm worried, especially after what happened now. And besides, it's not just the three of us anymore." He turned to you, Baekhyun following his gaze.

"I'm prepared for anything," you stated firmly. "But is it actually possible for us to find this place? You said it yourselves — this is a thing of myths and rumors."

"It was by the sea," said Baekhyun.

Mirumi was the only kingdom bordering the sea, but it would also mean at least a week's journey — and going outside of Elyxere. You hadn't been outside of the kingdom since you were a small child, and that had been with your parents. But you would travel to the ends of the Earth for your cousin. This was the closest you had gotten to finding an answer, and you wouldn't lose this chance.

Chin set in determination, you nodded. "I agree with Baekhyun, I think we should go. We all knew that this could be dangerous, but that shouldn't stop us. This is our only strong lead right now."

Baekhyun smiled in relief, satisfied with your decision. "Jongdae?"

The youngest witch sighed, glancing between his brother's face and Baekhyun's before nodding. "Sorry, Min. They've got a point."

Minseok's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Alright. But," his voice hardened. "Staying safe is the most important thing. I'm not losing the rest of my coven."

"Hey." Jongdae moved closer to his brother, resting an arm over his shoulders. "It's all going to be okay. We've got each other."

Tanie meowed in agreement from her patch of grass, far away from your circle around the fire. The rest of you had practically forgotten about her during the events of the ritual.

"Thanks, you silly cat," Minseok replied with a wry laugh. "You won't even come walk on the rocks to comfort me?"

The white cat laid her head back down, tail lazily swishing back and forth behind her, much to everyone's amusement.

"We're going to need a wagon," Baekhyun said aloud. "It'll be impossible to ride on horseback with all of these familiars." He reached up to pet Mongryong, visibly relaxing as the corgi snuggled closer to him.

"Then that'll be the first thing we do in the morning. But for now," Jongdae snuck a peek at you. "I think the princess might need a nap."

You blushed bright pink. Was it that obvious that you were barely awake right now?

The witches laughed at your surprise. "Don't worry, little witch," Jongdae told you. "The first full moon ritual is always the hardest. I'm surprised you managed to stay awake this long."

"I feel like I'm drop off to sleep any second now," you whined.

"Alright, let's head back. We'll set off around midday, once everyone's gotten some rest," Minseok announced.

As the fire was put out and all traces of the ritual cleared away, you still felt the lingering sensation of sorcery begin to fade away. Weariness began to set in — both from the long hours spent awake, and the thought of what lay ahead.

It was going to be a long, long journey, but it was one that you had to take.

Tag list: @shesdreaminginoverdose and @bbyunz A/N: it’s been a month since I updated, but i’m so relieved to finally finish this chapter. i’ve been spending time going over my fic outline trying to figure out if I still need certain parts that I originally planned, and adding in new things that I didn’t have before. i want to say that this is the halfway point in the entire fic? it might be about 6 chapters and an epilogue (but like most of my writing plans, all things are subject to change haha)

also, even though i’m not writing whole fics for jongdae anymore, i love getting to write for him as a side character in this fic 🤣 cbx as witches might be my favorite characters that i’ve written (aside from spiderman jongdae and 1920s detectives cbx)

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

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kelyon · 4 years

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Nephila 2: Unexpected

The long-awaited (and totally unplanned) next chapter of Nephila, aka The One Where Rumple is a Giant Spider

In this chapter, Belle talks to Ruby and figures out what she needs to do

Read on AO3

In a perfect world, Belle French would have never known that you can buy pregnancy tests at the dollar store.

Wandering through the aisles of the Dahllah Hahbah, Belle imagined what that perfect world would be like. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t be alone for this trip--unless she had a plan to surprise the co-parent of her child, but even then she would probably have brought Ruby along with her. In a perfect world, she and her significant other would have gotten the most precise pregnancy test available. It probably would have been expensive, the sort of thing you need a prescription to get. In a perfect world, this would have been an expected baby, a wanted baby. In a perfect world, Belle would have already been trying to conceive, with the help of a committed partner. She would have been charting her cycle and taking her basal temperature and regularly injecting her uterus with human sperm.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have to specify human.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Belle piled junk into the green plastic shopping cart. Halloween candy was half off, and the tiny packs of beef jerky were only a dollar. She had been especially hungry for meat lately. In the clearance section, orange and black spider decorations stared at her. Their googly eyes were equal parts friendly and ominous.

She backed away from the Halloween stuff, back into the comparative comfort of a Christmas display. She grabbed a box of candy canes and made her way to the check out lane.

The middle-aged cashier in a green polo shirt wore the dead-eyed glaze of someone who isn’t getting paid enough to express emotions on the clock. She didn’t talk to Belle as she scanned her purchases over the blinking red light. If she noticed the pregnancy test amidst all the junk food and paper products, she didn’t mention it.

And that was fine by Belle. She didn’t want people to mention it. She didn’t want it to be real. That was part of why she had gone to the next town over to make this surreptitious purchase. She didn’t want to run the risk of anyone recognizing her. Even if no one saw the test, even if they were supportive and encouraging, Belle didn’t want to think about what was happening at all. If not thinking about something could keep it from being real, then Belle would have no troubles in the world.

There was a used book store in this town, with a wider variety of subjects than the university store’s collection of last semester’s textbooks. Belle parked her car on the street and walked in. Maybe the smell of books would help her calm down.

It was the best kind of used book store, with towering shelves and hidden nooks and endless rooms leading into each other. There was even a cat wandering around, pestering patrons to pet her. Belle breathed deeply, content even in the sections that had no appeal to her. She brushed past cookbooks and theology, lingered briefly over a shelf of “Personal Relationship/Self-Help,” and eventually found herself in the most daunting section of all.

There were several copies of The Book. The book she didn’t want to admit she was looking for. After all The Book was the sort of thing the average woman only needed for nine months out of her life. Belle would probably donate her copy once all this was over with. However it would be over. However it could be over. There was so much that she didn’t know. It would be good, at least, to have a baseline of information, to know what was normal for a human woman carrying a human child.

She held The Book in one arm, making a conscious effort not to cradle it. As at the Dahllah Hahbah, she tried to camouflage The Book by surrounding it with decoys. She picked up a romance paperback, a history of lobster fishing, and a handbook for learning American Sign Language. After a moment of hesitation, Belle also pulled out a hardcover copy of Arachnology Through the Ages. When the stack of books was heavier than she could hold, Belle decided she was safe to check out.

Unlike the Dahllah Hahbah, this bookstore was staffed solely by the woman who owned the place--a retiree with her long hair in a loose bun and reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Midmorning on a Wednesday, she was obviously thrilled to chat up each and every customer who walked through the door.

“Looks like you got a good haul!” the woman said brightly.

Belle made herself smile and put the books on the counter. “It’s mostly gifts for people.”

“Early Christmas, that’s a smart move!” The owner began to ring up the books. “Oh, Texas Destiny is such a good read! Wait til you get to the part with the wild horses. Do you like horses?”

Her smile was still fixed in place. “A… little.” Belle didn’t give a shit about horses, but this was not the time to talk about it. Maybe if the shopkeeper was distracted by Texas Destiny, she wouldn’t notice--

“Oh!” The woman’s voice rose to a pitch that could only mean the worst thing in the world for Belle: She had seen The Book.

Belle could only be grateful that there was no one else in the store when the woman held up the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

The shopkeeper looked Belle up and down, her smile even wider than before. “So can I say congratulations?”

Belle bit her lip and looked down. “Maybe? I--I don’t really know yet.”

“Oh sweetie!” the woman said. “If you’re buying this book, then you know. And even if it’s not this time, it’ll be soon, I can tell. You look very fertile.”

Mortified, cheeks blazing red, Belle couldn’t say anything.

The woman just kept talking. “This is the gold standard for moms-to-be. And they say it’s easy to read, doesn’t make anything too science-y.”

At that, Belle found her voice. “I’m actually working on my PhD at the University of Maine. I’ve already completed my masters in Zoology. Science-y stuff doesn’t bother me.”

The shopkeeper took that in stride. “And your... husband? Boyfriend? Partner? What do they do?”

Lives in a cave and spins gold webs, Belle thought but couldn’t say. Instead she pulled out her wallet. “It’s kind of complicated. Where do I swipe my card?”

“Oh, we’re cash only, sweetie.”

“Sure,” Belle barely kept the annoyance out of her voice as she put away her debit card and pulled out the twenty she saved for emergencies. “Of course you are.”

****

When she got back to her crappy apartment, Belle thoroughly read and re-read the instructions on the pregnancy test. She wanted to believe that this was a complicated, mysterious process. Maybe she had been wrong the whole time. Maybe she had misread the signs and miscalculated the dates since her last period. Maybe she would go to the bathroom and find her underwear stained with blood, wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be so much better than the alternative?

Overthinking was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the longer Belle dithered and avoided the inevitable, the more worked-up she found herself getting. She would have less anxiety as soon as she had some idea of what was happening.

On the other hand, every second she didn’t know if she was pregnant was another second when she could pretend she definitely wasn’t pregnant. It could be true. She could be just imagining things. But she wouldn’t know until she peed on the goddamned stick.

Before she began, she set the kettle on for a cup of tea. By the time the water boiled, it was done. Belle held her mug of Earl Grey close to her chest and looked down at the little blue plus sign.

It had happened.

She was pregnant.

From a motherfucking spider!

****

“I’m coming over and I’m bringing margarita mix!”

Ruby’s voice was loud, even considering the amplification of being on speakerphone. She had to shout to be heard over the noise of the road and the static of her phone and the pounding of Belle’s blood in her ears.

Belle had managed to keep her composure for five entire minutes before the reality of her situation had come crashing down over her head and left her a sobbing mess. In her distress, she’d called her best friend, and Ruby had answered with her usual love language: girl time and booze.

“But I can’t drink!” Belle wailed. “I’m fucking pregnant and tequila will fucking kill my baby!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drink your tequila, and you can just have the lime juice. Vitamin C is good for zygotes, right?”

“I don’t know.” Trying to pull herself together, Belle wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands. There were all kinds of vitamins she needed to be taking now--or at least, there would be if she was having a human baby. What would a spider baby need? What kind of thing had taken up residence in her body? “I don’t know anything!”

“Okay, okay,” Ruby tried to soothe her. “Don’t panic. Everything will be worse if you panic. I am so close to your apartment, Belle. Just hang on until I get there. How about you look at the table of contents for your new book?”

Normally, there was nothing that calmed Belle down more than reading the table of contents to a book. There was something so comforting about knowing the progression of a text, to have all the steps and developments laid out in a simple outline, to get little teases as to the meat of the book. It was like reading the menu before sitting down to a feast, anticipating all the good things to come.

But if Belle looked at the table of contents to What to Expect When You’re Expecting, she would be peeking into the progression of the next nine months of her life, and that was not a timetable she could think about right now.

“I’ll be okay,” she told Ruby through wobbling lips. “Are you bringing food, too?”

“What, you think I’m an amature? I’m gonna hang up now so you don’t hear me freak out about parallel parking, but I’ll be up soon, hun. Okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded, even though Ruby couldn’t see it. She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

Ruby’s breezy confidence was exactly what Belle needed right now. It made her feel normal, even in the middle of the most un-normal thing she’d ever heard of. Ruby had been an RA while they were undergrads, a faithful post-breakup bar companion, and the recipient of teary late-night calls from friends going back to her high school days. She knew everything about how to deal with someone who was scared and alone and crying her eyes out. Belle wasn’t the first person to call Ruby up in tears, and she wouldn’t be the last.

It helped to think that her problems were not unique. Every day, women all around the world discovered that they had an unplanned pregnancy. For every one of them, it was the end of one world and the beginning of another. And Belle was just the same. The unorthodox manner of conception didn’t change the fact that Belle was merely one of thousands or millions of women who had been put in this exact same situation since the dawn of time. And, like so many of her countless sisters, Belle found solace in reaching out to other women, to find help and comfort and solidarity.

Laden with grocery bags, Ruby burst through the unlocked door like an inverse Santa Claus. Instead of a fat old man bearing gifts for the nice, Ruby was a skinny young woman offering solace to someone who had been decidedly naughty. Belle was more happy to see her friend than she had been on any Christmas morning of her life.

“Hey,” she tried, with a watery smile.

“Baby!” Ruby dropped the bags on the ground and pulled Belle in for a hug. “Or--no. That was a bad choice of words, wasn’t it? How do you feel? Am I allowed to say the B-word?”

Belle laughed and cried at the same time. “It’s fine,” she shook her head. “Don’t worry about saying the word ‘baby.’ That’s what it is, kinda.”

Ruby let Belle go and started unpacking her bags. “I know,” she said. “But ‘baby’ is an emotionally charged word. We can say ‘embryo,’ if that makes things easier on you. We’re almost doctors, Belle. We can be scientific about this.”

Scientifically, the word we should use is ‘larva,’ Belle thought but didn’t say. Ruby was her best friend and the most supportive person in the world right now. But even she would balk if she knew what Belle had really been up to on her trip to Australia.

Together, they cleared the clutter and books off the coffee table. Then Ruby made Belle sit on the couch and watch while she spread out her feast.

“Okay, so the tequila is just for me, but I did bring Sprite--it’s caffeine free and it’ll work with the margarita mix. Additionally, chips and gauc, cheese puffs, cheesecake bites, chocolate chip cookies--”

“Did you sort your shopping list alphabetically?”

“And--” Ruby went on, “a whole goddamned rotisserie chicken. I figured we could just rip into it with our hands like old-timey kings, like we’re going to throw the bones on the floor for the dogs.”

Belle let out an incredulous giggle. “That’s ridiculous! And perfect. Thank you so much, Ruby.”

“Oh! I also got this fancy salt for our margaritas. It’s made with black ants! Can you believe that?”

“Ants?” Belle whispered as her hand drifted over her stomach. Suddenly nauseous, she leapt off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

When she finished throwing up, Belle stayed on the ground next to the toilet. Ruby had lingered in the doorway but didn’t come in until Belle was done. She offered her a glass of water and Belle took it gratefully. Ruby sat on the edge of the bathtub, her face full of concern.

“Has the morning sickness been bad?”

“I don’t know if this is bad, I’ve never had it before!” Belle took a sip of water and closed her eyes. “Isn’t it supposed to be bad? Isn’t pregnancy supposed to be divine punishment for promiscuity?”

“If it’s punishment for anything, it’s for poor planning. I thought you were on the pill?”

Belle shook her head. “I kept it up for a few months after Will and Ana got back together for the fifth time, but when it looked like they were sticking I didn’t bother to refill my prescription. I don’t have sex with men often enough to justify taking a pill every day.”

“Except for when you do.”

“Yeah,” Belle took another drink. “Except for when I do.”

Ruby took a breath and rubbed her hands over her knees. “Listen, you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

Belle was still shaky, but she rested in that certainty. “Right.”

“And I’m not going to pressure you or make you do anything. You don’t even have to make any decisions today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta ask: Belle, what do you want to do? Have you thought about your options? Do you want to keep it? Do you want to… not keep it?”

Leaning her head back against the cool tile of her bathroom wall, Belle opened her eyes slowly. It had been such an ordeal to even confirm that she was pregnant, the thought of what came next had been too much to consider until now.

She took a deep breath, eight counts in, eight counts out.

“I think ‘abortion’ is an even more emotionally charged word than ‘baby.’”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can drive you to Planned Parenthood, I’ll be with you every step of the way. If that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Belle said softly. Ruby’s support was unconditional. She would paint a nursery or hold Belle through a difficult procedure, both with equal willingness and sincerity.

But Belle had an instinctive terror at the thought of going to a doctor’s office in her condition. What would a real urine test reveal about the nature of her child? What kind of image would show up on an ultrasound? Even if she wanted to get rid of this thing, would a regular abortion procedure work? Or would they have to go into her uterus with insecticide?

“I don’t want to go to a doctor,” she said softly.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “But you have to go to an OB! Or even just talk to Victor. I mean, if you’re going to stay pregnant, you have to stay healthy and safe.”

“I know,” Belle closed her eyes again. What could she say? How could she explain any of this? “But… I… I don’t know what will happen.”

“What, like with insurance or something?”

Belle’s eyes shot open. That worked. “Yeah,” she lied. “I don’t want to deal with crazy medical bills.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “Does Australia have universal health care?”

Now it was Belle’s turn to nod, slowly, saying words only slightly after the thoughts came into her head. “We… do. I should go back home… because of the healthcare.”

“Yeah, no, you definitely should. Besides, your parents are there!”

At the mention of her parents, Belle’s tenuous hope crumpled. “Oh God!” she let out a wrenching cry. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

“Nooo,” Ruby crooned. She slid off the bathtub edge and joined Belle on the floor, pulling her into her arms and slowly rocking her back and forth. “I know it’s scary, but parents can be okay with things. My mom didn’t want to tell Granny about me until I was almost born, but it all turned out fine!” She gave Belle a chaste kiss on the temple. “Even if your mom and dad freak out at first, they’ll come around soon. Babies are cute. They’re easy to like.”

Belle shook her head and let the tears fall silently. “Not this baby.”

“Don’t say that.” Ruby held Belle by the shoulders, twisting their bodies so they could look into each other’s eyes. “If you’re gonna keep this baby, Belle, you’ve got to own it. It will be a lovable baby because it will be your baby. You’ve got to fight for it! If you’re this thing’s mom, you have to be its biggest fan. Does that make sense?”

Still teary, Belle nodded. “It’s my baby, right or wrong.”

“Unless you want to go to Planned Parenthood. That is entirely up to you. But once you make that choice--” Ruby balled her hand into a fist and shook it in a display of fierce determination “--then it’s yours.”

“Mine,” Belle whispered. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. It was still flat and lifeless. There was nothing about her body that spoke of the life that grew inside her. Nothing that could tell her what manner of creature her child would become. But Ruby was right, it was hers. And not just hers. “I should tell the father too.”

“Yeah, you never mentioned what happened! Who was this guy? What was he like? How was the sex?”

“The sex was amazing,” Belle admitted with the candor of the overly distraught. “But it was just sort of a one-night stand. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Do you want to see him again? Do you think he’ll want to be involved?”

“He’ll have to be involved,” Belle said with a dawning sense of relief.

Of course the creature in the cave would be a part of their offspring’s life. If she was going to give birth to a spider, then it would have to be raised by a spider! And that thing… that thing was intelligent. It could care for its young. Maybe it could even take care of Belle.

She just had to see him again.

Belle felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As she stood up, she nearly floated off the bathroom floor. She offered her hand down to Ruby and helped her get up.

“Tomorrow morning, I have to call Dean Mills to see if someone can teach my classes for the rest of the semester.”

Ruby cocked her head at Belle. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m going back to Queensland.”

#Nephila #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #sorry there's no smut in this one #not a lot of spiders either #next time baby

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funkymbtifiction · 4 years

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I’ve been going back and forth between infp and isfj for ages (bought books, scrolled through your blog endlessly) but your recent infp post gave me pause.

‘INFPs have trouble wrapping their head around what most of the other types “settle for” – finding a job that pays the rent, even if it’s crap, and doing what you love (like write) in your spare time as a hobby. Their idealism and need to do what they love for work makes it hard for them to cope with the idea that realistically, that may not work out.’

I could barely relate to that. Even when I think I can incorporate my creative side I’m very realistic about it. I could be a hairdresser at a friend’s salon but I’m very sensitive to smells and have horrible allergies. I wonder if Ne would instantly be trying to figure out ways around that not just be ‘yeah, that’s off the table’. I’m a (almost forced) problem solver and do try to find loopholes in things but that’s more fear based than anything else ( that sounds so 6 XD ). Plus I keep wondering if I followed my passions as a career would that kill my joy of them. Would business and deadlines kill the creativity? Would people even like and respond to it (this ways heavily on me. The fear of disappointment and rejection).

Add a critical view of my talents and I’m going ‘settling’ is more than okay since you need to survive and keeping passions alive is needed as well so find time to do that during the day. Make it the best part of your day. A reward for making it through and if you can make some money from it then great.

Long story short if someone can’t relate to that is it a red flag that you’re not infp or you can be and my Ne decided to send me down rabbit holes - again.

Since everyone is different, you will relate to some things about your type and not others, and you can always factor in your Enneagram type (being a 6 tends to make people less risk-taking, more concerned with how others feel about them / considerate of others in general, and more practical) … but ultimately, you should be able to recognize your dominant function given your blind spots (lower functions). Being unable to detach from their strong need to do what they want to do, and not do what they don’t want to do, is an issue for INFPs. Most of the ones I know either work for less money, or took a pay cut, to leave a job that makes them miserable in order to do one that fulfills them in some way. The ISFJs learn the system they are working with, and do it, because there is no Fi-dom need in them to be “authentic” to themselves, and their stronger Si is aware that some jobs are boring. That’s life.

Given that nothing you said here has a strong sense of “I see things through how I feel about them,” and that still bleeds through even with 6s, I’d say you have your judging axis in the middle of your stack rather than at opposite ends. Your careful, meticulous questioning suggests perception > judgment. That would support ISFJ, if you are sure of being an introvert.

I suggest reading the “learn mbti page” and reading all the dominant function posts carefully. An INFP should somewhat relate to the ENP post (at least in the sense of “yes, that’s how I am… fanatical with an interest and then it disappears… and I no longer care about it… I want to change the world with my ideas / idealism / beliefs…”) AND the IFP post. IFPs are rather famous for shutting down anything they don’t want to talk about, whereas IFJs are more willing to discuss it, as perceiving dominants (less instant NOPE). If you are an ISFJ, you should somewhat relate to the Fe-dom post (in terms of seeing others in terms of “we” and wanting an emotional consensus, for others to agree with you, etc) and also Si (in your own interests, points of expertise, and the way you learn).

Just an example – I know two artists. One is an INFP, the other is an ISFJ. The ISFJ, being a Si-dom, is willing to meticulously work on one area of her art, until it is perfect. Si-dom artists are the ones who create the teachable art books, which tell you to keep drawing an eye until it’s perfect, then learn the nose, and so on… in so doing, their meticulous repetition establishes a base of learning that is an ‘expert’ not just in fingers or toes, but all elements of the face, and then of the body. That is Si learning. Methodical. You do it over and over, until you get it perfect. You learn it a piece at a time, to make the whole.

The INFP artist refused to use the book that taught drawing techniques through that repetition, since “I don’t WANT to draw that way.” She refused to use any books at all. She had to do it her own way. She drew for awhile. Then she made / decorated fandom hats. Then she painted doll faces. Then she went into sewing. She doesn’t really use patterns, either, that much. She just looks at it, draws a design based on what she knows she wants, and makes up her own pattern to get it to do that (often just by eyeballing it, cutting it, and then moving fabric around). Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But she did not methodically learn to draw. She moved on to making Rey’s staff for Cosplay, used it for awhile, then sold it and went on to Victorian stuff. Because as an NP… she loses interest and moves on to other things. ;)

Low Si finds repetition boring and just tends to intuitively leap into things. So, for example, they may be a gifted writer with zero awareness of how writing as a technique (grammar, sentence structure, avoiding certain words at the ends of sentences) actually works – and they may not even care, until it in some way impedes them getting published. Then they will learn too much all at once, in the process skim-reading / not learning it properly, and missing half of it, as opposed to the ISFJ writer who carefully studies writing techniques, reads 20 books on writing by successful novelists, does the practice work, and then has all the knowledge in place to move forward and do it.

Not everyone is going to do this, obviously, but I’m illustrating how SiNe is much more methodical in how they learn something, vs how NeSi just haphazardly does it – often well, but it neglects learning the important fundamentals, and then later has to go back and fill in gaps in its knowledge.

- ENFP Mod

#question #infp #isfj #mbti #infp x isfj #isfj x infp #type contrast #submission

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ourladyofomega · 4 years

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Close to the end of the year, and also when the semester ended, I looked forward in selling my books after finals so that I would get money back. I’d get a friend together to take me to Tower Records in Huntington. In a matter of one hour, that money would be gone. Right now I’d be very excited about what I would find in those bins. But due to the pandemic it hasn’t been the case and the euphoria of being in a store, any store at midnight, has been absent. During the mid-00′s, Tower Records went under and currently co-opting the former Huntington location is a third-rate clothing store.

One day as I was driving to work, people stood on the sidewalks of Route 110 holding picket signs like it was the end of the world. First advertised on those signs were 10%-30% percent off all merchandise at Tower. When passers-by and sidewalk shoppers took a closer look, they ended up in shock as they realized that it was an end of an era of some sort. A few days later, the stakes went up. 40%-60% discounts finally garnered Tower’s final audience and rush of shoppers. The final swan song came when all merchandise was down to a whopping 70%-90% percent off. That was when they had their biggest ever turnout because no one wanted to pay full price for music. (Not then when downloading broke, and still not now.) Music collectors and fans were reluctant to buy any new release or any title that was full price. Now they all jumped at the opportunity to clean out Tower’s shelves with a steal. Buyers hovered and tracked entire sections looking for that one shining crown jewel that made their lifetime.

As a music fan for years, I couldn’t begin to tell you how much Tower shaped my taste in music and style. Unlike FYE and Sam Goody, Tower was the one commercial music chain that had a lot of artists and titles that no other commercial store had. Think of what was the Port Jefferson Music Den (closed in 2002) where they were the one underground record store that had everything other stores didn’t even come close to carry. I remember summertimes visiting the Massapequa location picking up rare CD singles and imports as well as other rare hard-to-find and ahead-of-release-date CD’s and artists I picked up such as Autechre’s LP5 (1999) and EC8OR’s World Beaters (1998).

And being a fan of print media and graphic design, I also bought stacks of magazines every week. The magazine selection in Huntington was unrivaled, measuring at least several rows of 60-70 feet of anything and everything you could think of: Industrial Nation, Punk Planet, The Wire, Disruptiv, Mass Appeal, Mean, Vice, YRB, and art design magazines like LoDown, as well as hardcore zines Short Fast Loud!, Maximum Rock And Roll, Under The Volcano and other cult magazines I happened to be lucky to pick up (Lisa Carver’s Rollerderby, anyone?). Every month went at least $60.00-$70.00 total on magazines alone.

Yet towards the end of Tower’s presence I didn’t pick up on music as much because just like other buyers, I had to stand back at the higher-than-usual prices for releases. Compared to discount chains like Best Buy and other record stores, it wasn’t unusual to find a new release with no-frills to be priced at $19.99 or even $21.99. DVDs I noticed were priced at times to be five dollars higher than their competitors. Maybe some shoppers felt the same sentiment as I did.

Not only that, the forces of internet piracy and MP3 downloading of recent years proved to be too dominant and powerful to be stopped, and is currently but begrudgingly co-existing with other existing record stores this day and age. Consumers then re-routed the system right to their own bedrooms with no price to pay for their music. These factors, plus incurring debt that led the chain to bankruptcy proved to be too much for them.

Without Tower Records, it was less convenient for me to pick up whatever artist or movie title I wanted right away right after work. When Tower closed down it took a bite out of some of the physical record collecting I had. Yet, only they could have given me these experiences: no more magazines letting me know what the latest art direction was or who was in the spotlight. No more frantically walking around with a huge stack of everything and more in my hands still looking for one more CD. No more back room full of posters, sheet music, jazz, classical, hip-hop, techno, and soul. No more silly Hollywood memorabilia and comic-book fantasy merchandise. No more video games, no more characters hanging out in the store wearing goth, back-pack indie, or hardcore.

No more attitudes from the employees who treated customers like nothing because they felt like it. That was really the only problem I had with Tower Records, mostly in Huntington. The cashiers pointed people out with a huff and puff because they were given more than enough change or money, or how they rang up a transaction without even making an emotion or saying a word. Some stuck female cashiers had that flat out know-it-all act for no apparent reason. Sometimes I even renounced the shop because of its sometimes poor service, but that was not the case in the end as the attitude did improve, thank you.

And no more of where I had my first date with my Peruvian then-girlfriend. I would never forget wandering in that Huntington store looking for the next purchase when she walked in, greeting each other with open arms. We left when a thunderstorm knocked the power out but we returned after dinner and had a fun time, the first of many for months to come. This was also where I met a pretty pale Irish ginger who I later met again into at community college the following year.

What is now left of the record store scene on Long Island? A few of them which existed when Tower crumbled are still around (Cheapo’s, Looney Tunes, Infinity Records) and even new ones popped up (High Fidelity and Record Reserve to naming two). Some opened and either re-located (Record Stop) or said good-bye by the time you read this (Permanent Records and Vinyl Paradise). The majority of shops in total are still around because internet opinion made their case about the lack of quality, esthetics, art, and ritual of having the physical thing that you don’t get from digital or streaming; and the classic ritual and synesthesia of experiencing a record store and handling the format makes the case of cherishing these shops. On the online circuit, some titles are now being released in very limited quantity, mainly in the low thousands or even in the mere hundreds. It’s a huge drop-off from what the millions in print runs used to be. Naming your own price for digital downloads, streaming, or even buying from the label or artist directly is the way to go nowadays.

With my radio show, Omega WUSB, I do most of my music testing at home. My habits have been ruined by MP3s and streams as acquiring music is of very low cost and extremely ubiquitous. After all that, it hasn’t stopped me from going to record stores or celebrating Record Store Day to find breaks, samples, or dollar music to win it all. Yes, I still very much prefer to go out of town to buy music with my money which I support the artists and shops I like. Even to this day, I’ll be very happy spending $200.00-$250.00 on music just to have the artwork, colors, lyrics, pictures, ink, liner notes, credits, barcodes, and the entire release itself, because later on I will turn a profit in style points as time goes by, just like when people are hoarding and sharing their vinyl and cassette collections now.

That November was my last visit to Tower Records ever, a few months after getting a substantial check from a near-fatal car accident. Acquired would be some titles that made my pre-Omega shows and would be part of some personal seasonal mixtapes. Prices were 40% off on music and that was when I decided to go and treat myself. There comes a time when you just can’t wait and risk a good sale on music before they’re gone forever. The total spent on my last ever visit there was $200.00 on music and the Andy Warhol book at $75.00, originally $125.00 (have you ever carried a book so massive and so heavy?) I took my bags worth of music and magazines with me to the trunk of my car, never to return to the Tower Records experience again.

On another note, I’m still friends with M-Ro to this day, a former manager there. He moved on to become a lead of Hicksville’s Utopia further west before becoming a ticket broker at an independent movie house. He once had a show on WUSB and was a major figurehead and darling of the Long Island punk scene. You might also know his brother J-Ro, a master archivist who still has his own show with us and is known as a major record collector by practically everyone on the island.

#omega #Tower Records #our lady omega #personal #Long Island #friends #music

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magicallygrimmwiccan · 5 years

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Only Time

Summary: They used to spend almost every moment of their lives together. Everything changes once high school hits, and Roman begins to realize that his actions have consequences.

Notes: This is my half of an art/writing trade with the wonderful Wren (@dailypattondoodle or @moonfang03), who wanted some twin Logince with angst and a fluffy resolution. Welp, hope you enjoy this :) This is going to be posted in a couple different chapters, purely for the sake of my editor and formatting on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy, Wren!

Logan and Roman Everhart had always been non-normal children. They were an adopted set of identical twins, something very unheard of by most. Their adopted fathers were always quick to defend the legitimacy of their claim to parenthood, however, with Roman and Logan none the wiser. The twins also never quite seemed to act their age. Roman began to recite Shakespearean sonnets at 8 without being in an acting company. Logan was reading high-school level chemistry textbooks at age 10 and actually understanding them. Roman was fluent in at least 3 languages including English by the age of 11, and Logan could translate texts in at least 5 by the same age. Their fathers were extremely proud of their children (although baffled over how they learned these things that quickly) and encouraged their interests as individuals.

At the same time, however, both were still just average children. Roman enjoyed going to movies and playing outside and doing sports while also joining a Shakespeare youth company and a choir outside of school. Logan found a STEM group outside of school and joined that while also enjoying reading in his spot on the windowsill in the living room. Both boys had their differences, both from each other and from other children, of course, but first and foremost, they were brothers. They did everything together as children, from watching new shows and movies to starting new books and even trying to cook together. In other words, they were siblings. Yes, they fought, and had their differences, but at the end of the day, they were each other’s best friend. The two of them were always there for each other. Well… until high school, that is.

The first day of high school, Roman met the other theatre kids and was instantly enamoured by them. They understood him perfectly. They supported and participated in his dramatics. They didn’t laugh when he began to geek out over the latest Disney news or the latest Broadway musical or the newest episode of a cartoon show that he really should have stopped watching years ago when he got “too old for it”. They were there with him, just as passionate about the same things. Oh, sure, they all had their differences, and drama, but overall, Roman knew that he had found a new family in this small group of social outcasts in the theatre department at his new high school.

Logan, however? Logan struggled. Not only was he seen as a freak for his selective mutism (and yes, it was selective, he had a hard enough time talking normally so it wasn’t much of a stretch to only communicate in sign), his uncommon interests pushed him even further away from his peers. While he made a couple of friends, mostly fellow science fans, they had lives and responsibilities away from him and their group, and, as all of them were introverts, they tended to not meet up outside of school very often. As such, Logan was extremely lonely without Roman. But this was fine, he told himself. Roman was a social person by nature. He needed people to talk to that weren’t his brother. Logan had no reason to be upset, right?

“And then he just started bawling! I mean, it’s understandable, that spider was far too large for any five year old to handle, but I think that’s the most emotion he’s ever shown in his life!” Roman finished, head thrown back from the force of his laughter. The rest of his friends giggled a bit as well, all too used to hearing about the adventures of Young Logan and Roman.

“Roman, you’re so mean to your brother!” Mabel giggled, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth as she almost dropped her fork into her pasta. Roman snorted and rolled his eyes, far too used to Mabel’s clumsiness.

“Mabel, you have no room to talk,” he shot back, grinning. “I seem to recall you telling us stories about being an absolute menace to your brother one summer when you were 12?” The other six people at the table laughed and oohed along with Mabel and Roman like the immature freshmen that they were. People at nearby tables shot them looks but did not speak up, ultimately succumbing to the apathy high school filled you with and returning to their regularly scheduled lunches. Nonetheless, their table did quiet down, not wanting to cause a fight to break out in the crowded lunchroom.

“Hey, speaking of brothers, I haven’t seen yours in a while, Roman,” Shiloh mentioned, instantly dampening the mood of the conversation. While Logan was liked by all at the table, more than one person had a complicated relationship with him, whether it be from classes or indirect experience through another person. Roman blinked in shock at Shiloh’s statement, mind whirling. He had just spoken to Logan an hour ago, hadn’t he? Outside of Logan’s Honors English classroom? And hadn’t his friends been with him? No, they had not, he concluded as the memories solidified. He had talked to Logan alone.

“He’s been busy with classes. He’s in all honors, remember, and he has a lot of activities to do outside of school,” Roman answered, voice even and unconcerned. Why should he be concerned, after all? This was normal behaviour for Logan, who did not like to talk to most people that were not in his immediate circle of Trusted Humans. Plus, these were not Logan’s friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Logan had his own friends, a couple of fellow sciencey introverts who did not mind Logan’s methods of communication. Why should Roman be concerned, then, that his friends had not seen Logan for a bit?

“Yeah, true. I dunno, though, he used to stop by at least once a lunch period. He hasn’t done that for at least two weeks,” Shiloh continued, chewing his bottom lip. Dani murmured in quiet agreement and shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, and Mabel sighed, eyes flickering with melancholy. None of them would admit it, but they missed Logan’s visits, if only to see his adorable banter with his twin.

“He’s probably just busy, okay guys? Nothing’s wrong,” Roman huffed, stabbing violently into his pasta. “Why are you worried, anyway? He’d tell me if something is wrong.” Dani and Shiloh looked at each other across the table, silently communicating with eyebrow raises and glances. Clearly, Roman wasn’t paying attention to his sibling. Should they tell him, or let him figure this out on his own?

The bell to signal the end of lunch interrupted their decision making, and the group all stood to scatter to their afternoon classes, groaning the entire time. Roman hiked up his backpack and stalked off to algebra, slipping into his seat just before the late bell rang. Logan was fine, he knew. His friends had no reason to make such a big deal over this. Right?

Logan choked back his tears as he checked his phone for the fifth time in the last minute or so. Roman wasn’t coming, it was clear. This was far from the first time Roman had skipped their meetings, and it was very unlikely to be the last. He had a life, and friends, and better things to do with his time than spend time with his stupid nerdy brother who was still far too clingy at age 14. Five more minutes, he thought, I’ll give him five more minutes. He was already five minutes late, Logan knew, but he was not quite willing to accept that fact yet. He was not ready to admit that his brother was abandoning him.

Five minutes passed and Roman was nowhere to be found, as was normal lately. Logan sighed and began to walk towards his next class half an hour early as usual, ignoring the pangs and tearing in his chest. He should be fine, he couldn’t possibly expect Roman to spend every moment with him, he should be happy for his brother and his new friends. Logan knew that change was natural in high school, yet he somehow still felt awful over it. He should have made more of an effort in his younger years to talk to people other than Roman. Maybe then he’d know how to deal with this.

“Logan? You’re here early again. Is something wrong?” his Trig Honours teacher asked, concern dripping from her voice. Logan swallowed down his feelings, shifted his binder to his right arm, and lifted his left hand to reply.

No, I just finished lunch early and my friends are busy. May I please stay in here? he asked, hand shaking slightly at the thought of rejection. His teacher must have noticed and smiled at him, waves of calm radiating off of her.

“Of course you can stay in here, Logan. In fact, could you help me grade the Algebra 1 tests? If that’s not too much trouble,” she replied, holding up a stack of paper. Logan nodded and set his materials at his desk before walking back over and settling down to help grade. Grading relaxed him and took his mind off of his issues.

“So, Logan. Do you need to talk?” she asked, looking over her glasses. Logan shook his head, focusing on correcting a poor freshman’s factoring. She sighed and went back to silence, allowing Logan to stew in his thoughts. Far too soon, the rest of his class began to filter in, and Logan had to go back into his daily schedule, still raw and uncertain about what was going on with his brother.

Luckily, school was over quickly, and Logan began his walk home, not willing to wait for Roman to finish play practice today. Plus, he had homework, and Dad would need help making dinner since Papa was working late tonight. It’s not like Roman would worry, anyway, Logan knew as he reached the front door, reaching into his pocket to grab his house keys. He walked in the door, the scent of burning sugar hitting his nose.

“Logan? Can you help me? I can’t… figure out how to cook!” Dad’s voice called, tinged with panic. Logan chuffed, threw his backpack onto the couch, and walked into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the destruction around him. Flour dusted every surface. Eggs were splattered across the table. Sloppily chopped cloves of garlic lay on the floor, and a bottle of olive oil lay on its side, thankfully sealed and not leaking. In the middle of this cooking disaster zone stood Virgil Everhart, a famous author who still didn’t know how to cook at age 30. Logan smiles slightly and walked over, picking up a discarded chopping knife.

What are you trying to make, Dad? Virgil sighed and turned back to the stove, shutting it off and taking the slightly-smoking pan off of the burner.

“This… this nice pasta recipe. And we had all the things to hand make pasta… and I wanted to surprise Patton with something special? But… I failed,” Virgil muttered, gesturing around the room. Logan nodded and gently took the pan from Virgil. He grabbed out all the ingredients he was going to need and set to work, smiling.

I can do this, Dad. Just focus on cleaning up, Logan signed before setting to work. Virgil shuffled around behind him, cleaning up everything that he had almost destroyed and handing Logan the olive oil for later. Logan snorted and took it, giving his Dad a large smile and a big thumbs-up. Virgil was trying to learn a new skill, it was clear.

“Okay, it’s all cleaned up. Can I help?” Logan shook his head and finished kneading the dough, beginning to set it up to roll it out and cut it. The kitchen descended into silence as the two worked, Virgil mostly handing Logan things and stepping back and watching his son make the meal. Logan was just finishing dishing the pasta into bowls when the front door slammed open and Roman’s voice came floating in.

“I’m home, everyone! Do I smell garlic?” Logan stiffened a bit but focused on finishing his task while Virgil went out to find and talk to Roman.

“Yep. Logan actually made dinner. Talk to him,” Virgil drawled. Logan finished topping everything with parmesan and hurried towards his room, snatching a bowl on the way. No, he wasn’t avoiding Roman, what were you talking about?

He walked into his room and softly closed the door before collapsing into his desk chair, pulling out his math textbook and flipping open his notebook. This was not the first time he did this, eating dinner and doing homework while avoiding his family, and it would be far from the last time he did this. He shoved down the bubbling heat, stabbed his fork into a mushroom, and threw himself into graphing conic sections for the second night in a row.

“So… Roman. We need to have a talk,” Virgil started, sitting down with his noodles across from his more extroverted son. Roman blinked and looked up, mouth full of pasta and carrots. Confusion painted his face, which Virgil would find adorable in any other scenario, but right now made anger bubble in his gut. It was clear Logan was hurting, and Roman should have noticed and known, but he clearly had no idea, and that made Virgil angrier than he thought.

“About what? My grades are fine, I’m not having issues… what’s up, Dad? Is someone dying?” Roman babbled, eyes wide and panicked. Virgil sighed and pinched his nose. Wow, how did he raise such a dramatic child? He blamed Patton.

“No one is dying. You’re not in trouble. It’s Logan.” Roman’s face paled and he almost dropped the bowl, catching it at the last second. “I… what? What’s wrong with Logan? Is he being bullied? Is he okay? Is he sick? Does he have depression? Who do I need to fight?” Roman rattled off, fists clenching and teeth gritting. Virgil actually… felt scared of his son at that moment. That… that should not happen.

“Whoa, hang on, Roman! Slow down! No, Logan is okay in most of those fields. Please let me talk!” Virgil babbled. Roman quieted down, brown eyes wide with expectation. Virgil sighed, steepled his fingers, and began. “I… I believe Logan may be exhibiting symptoms of depression or anxiety. And… I want to ask you if you have any idea why?”

Roman frowned and began to think. He seemed to finally stumble across a solution and his eyes widened, horror and despair filling their cocoa depths. “I… holy shit. I have no idea,” he whispered. Virgil sighed, took a bite of his pasta, and began to think about how to explain things to his son.

“I… you talk a lot about your friends, which is great, don’t get me wrong, but you also used to talk about Logan… and I’m wondering if you’ve just stopped talking to him?” Roman frowned before comprehension dawned.

“I haven’t been talking to him… oh crap, we were supposed to meet up at lunch today… oh crap!” Roman bolted upright, face pale. “I… where’s Logan! I need to talk to him! I- I need to fix this!” He sprinted out of the room, leaving Virgil alone to eat his pasta and contemplate all the horrible outcomes this situation could bring.

The front door opened again and closed again, and Virgil looked up to find Patton smiling softly at him. “Hey, honey, what’s going on?” Virgil sighed and pecked Patton on the cheek.

“Roman and Logan… are having some issues. They’re talking it out now.” Patton nodded and sat next to him, squeezing his hand.

“It’ll be fine, darling. They’re strong. They have a great bond. Everything will be okay,” Patton whispered. Virgil leaned against him, smiling softly.

“I hope so, Patt. I hope so.”

Knock knock. “Logan? Can we talk?” Logan’s head snapped upwards and he gulped at the sound of Roman’s nervous voice. His brother only sounded nervous when things were serious. Had Logan done something wrong? The mere thought sent nasty whispers through his brain, and he tried to block them out, focusing on the present. He stood and walked to his door, opening it to find Roman fidgeting with his sleeves in the hallway. “Can I come in?” Roman asked, eyes shining with something Logan couldn’t decipher. Logan nodded and let him in, closing the door behind his twin before sitting back in his desk chair while Roman perched on the bed. Silence reigned as the brothers faced each other, neither putting forth any words. Finally, after a solid three minutes of silence, Roman placed his hands on his knees, sighed, and began.

“Logan. I… you’ve been acting off lately. A bit more… depressed? And anxious? And I’d like to know what’s going on.” Logan bit his lip and wrung his hands together, trying to formulate a response. Should he be honest? Should he tell Roman the truth about his feelings? Or should he try and make Roman feel better? Looking into Roman’s earnest eyes, however, Logan felt all plans of lying leave his head. He had to tell his twin the truth.

I… have been feeling abandoned lately? You have been skipping our lunch meetings to hang out with your friends… and we don’t talk much anymore… which is fine! You have your own friends and your own life. I just feel a bit sad and hurt over it, Logan signed. His hands shook as they formed the damning signs, his hands lowering when he was done. Silence reigned, and Logan’s throat began to close up. He was so stupid, why couldn’t he just push his feelings down, why couldn’t he grow up and let Roman go-

Logan was suddenly yanked into a hug and he gasped, tears bubbling in his eyes. “You’re okay, Logan. You’re okay. I’m so, so sorry, bro, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” Roman sobbed, squeezing Logan. Logan slowly lifted his arms and hugged Roman back, finally allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks. There the two brothers sat, crying, for a length of time neither could tell, simply basking in the presence and love of the other, their best friend since birth. Eventually, Roman pulled back, sniffing, but kept his hands on Logan’s shoulders, giving him a watery grin.

“Okay. I promise, I will not forget our meetings, okay? In fact, I’m going to start spending all of lunch at least once a week with you. How does that sound?” Logan’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. No, he didn’t want that, Roman’s friends would start to hate him for taking Roman away-

“Hey, Logan? My friends will understand, okay? You come first, anyway. If they can’t handle me spending time with my brother, then they weren’t that great of friends in the first place,” Roman stated firmly, his voice cutting through Logan’s spiraling thoughts. Logan gulped and raised his hands.

I don’t want to cut into your time with people you enjoy, though. Roman growled and shook Logan gently.

“Logan. You matter more, okay? Plus, they all miss you. Just… trust me on this, okay?” Logan slowly, shakily nodded, and Roman smiled softly. “Good. That’s great, Logan. Now, yell at me if I do anything stupid, okay?”

Logan snorted. You’ll be smacked about ten times per day, then. Roman blinked before his cheeks puffed out.

“Hey! That’s rude!” Logan giggled, and Roman simply pouted more in an effort to be the largest drama queen on the planet. This caused Logan to giggle harder, and finally, Roman broke down laughing as well, happiness welling up in both sibling’s souls. They ended up cuddling on Logan’s bed and watching Netflix, somehow, but neither complained. This was the most time they’d spent with each other for a while, and neither was willing to have this end.

What neither knew was that, when they eventually fell asleep, Patton slipped into the room and tucked them in, plugged in Logan’s laptop, and dropped a soft kiss onto both of their foreheads. “Sweet dreams, kiddos,” he murmured before leaving, smiling to himself. His kiddos were finally beginning to make things better, and nothing could be better in his eyes.

“Logan, calm down. They all like you, remember?” Roman murmured, nudging his brother in the ribs gently. Logan gulped and adjusted his grip on his Caesar salad, staring across the lunchroom at Roman’s usual table filled with loud, laughing theatre kids. Mabel was draped across Dani, the two girls watching something on Dani’s phone. Shiloh and Tommy were shouting in Hebrew about math homework (Logan could only tell because he glimpsed their open math textbooks), and Clair was giggling along with Cory and Kate about cute humans. Overall, an alien environment to Logan. He didn’t fit in; he didn’t belong there. Roman huffed and grabbed Logan’s arm, yanking him after him as he marched over.

“Friends! Countrymen! Gentlewomen! Lend me your ears!” he called, causing the entire cafeteria to turn around and stare at them. Logan flinched, but Roman and his entire friend group took this in stride, grinning.

“Yes, Your Highness? What say you?” Shiloh yelled back, his voice lilting with sarcasm. The entire table chorused agreement, a cacophony of sarcasm erupting from the table. Logan flinched back, but Roman pushed onwards, gently shoving him in between Shiloh and Alfred. Logan simply fidgeted with his fork and waited to be kicked from the table.

“I say that my darling advisor, my dear brother, will be joining us today!” Roman chirped, lowering his volume. The rest of the cafeteria ignored them once again, and Logan swallowed as all the eyes at the table turned to him. He was acutely aware of how his argyle sweater vest and tie made him stand out among this group of fashionable teens. He fidgeted, not used to this much attention. Mika and Wirt were much more subdued and hated eye contact as much as Logan did. This… this was not in Logan’s comfort zone at all.

“Cool! So, Logan, do you listen to musicals? I just finished listening to the UK version of Heathers and do I have some opinions,” Mabel answered Roman, slamming her fist into the table.

“Oh, en guarde, bitch, you do not get to trash that recording!” Tommy yelped, slamming his fist into the table. Mabel yelled a challenge back, and Logan soon found himself embroiled in a conversation about which version of Heathers was better, a topic he knew nothing about. However, he found this conversation… pleasant, even fun. All of Roman’s friends were very welcoming and warm, and all of them took their time and let him sign, Roman translating for him. Never once did Logan feel excluded. This was… nice. He smiled his first genuine smile in months. Things were finally looking up.

Notes: And that’s Chapter One! I’m most likely posting Chapter 2 tomorrow (fingers crossed!). Hope you all enjoyed this!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #twin logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #parental moxiety #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #selectively mute logan #i am an evil author #writing trade #chapter one #only time

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piperemerald · 5 years

Text

Falling For Your Voice

Fandom: The Promised Neverland

Pairing: Norray

AO3

Summary: Norman Minerva is one of the most recognized singer/songwriters of this generation, captivating thousands with his beautiful voice, detailed lyrics, and charming personality. And Ray is in love with him.

81194 is the most popular author of this age with dozens of best sellers to his name, despite fact that no one knows his true identity or anything about the person behind the numbers. And Norman is in love with him.

They live in different worlds. The two of them ever meeting is impossible—just as impossible as both of them falling in love with just a voice.

Chapter One

If Ray had known Emma was trying to get his attention, he probably would have taken his headphones off and listened to what his adopted sister had to tell him. Or maybe he would have made the music several clicks louder and tried to leave the room. The one thing he knew for certain was that he would not have turned his back on her and give her the perfect opportunity to throw her cup at him.

In her defense, it was an empty plastic cup and he barely felt it hitting the back of his head, but that didn’t mean that the reaction wasn’t a little bit of overkill.

“Earth to Ray!” She was saying. “Is there anyone up there?”

“You know I thought when you turned twenty you’d stop acting like a five year old.” Ray rolled his eyes at her.

“Is that why you base all of your children characters after me?” Emma crossed her arms as she asked this.

“They’re not all based after you,” Ray told her not for the first time. “Just the annoying ones.”

“Hey!” She narrowed his eyes at him.

“What were you trying to say to me?” He asked her.

“Oh, right,” she said. “Just if you’re going to listen to your boyfriend you might as well plug it into the speakers so you don’t kill your eardrums.”

“I’m not killing my eardrums,” Ray argued.

“Yes you are!” Yuugo shouted from the other room. “Just listen to Emma!”

Ray had the childish urge to shout back that Yuugo wasn’t his dad, but that counter argument had stopped being valid five years ago when him and his husband Lucas had legally adopted both Ray and Emma.

“Fine,” Ray relented, unplugging his headphones and tossing his phone to Emma. “Just don’t make fun of me again. It’s not like you don’t listen to them too.”

“I make fun of you ‘cause this band is literally the only thing you listen to,” Emma said flatly.

“I know what I like,” Ray shrugged before sitting next to her on their couch.

She had a point, although he was far too stubborn to recognize that out loud. Ray’s taste in music didn’t really reach farther than Lambda—or, to be more specific their lead singer and songwriter Norman Minerva.

Ray had been sixteen, coincidentally the same age as the artist himself, when he’d first heard one of Norman’s songs. It was before Ray had finished his first book, the one that only a few months later would end up making him enough money to pay off all of his adopted parents debts and ensure that him and Emma would never have to worry about landing jobs. It was back when the only thing keeping him on this earth was the fear that Emma couldn’t take another heartbreak. It was back when he felt pathetic, and alone, and hopeless.

Norman’s voice had made all of that hurt a little bit less. Norman’s lyrics had spoken to Ray in a way that music never had before. They were poetic and far more intricate than anyone gave the then teenage credit for. The melodies of the songs filled Ray’s head with thoughts that weren’t deadly, and dark, and dangerous. In a way, Norman had saved Ray.

And Ray was in love with him.

Maybe it was better to say that Ray was in love with the idea of Norman, he wasn’t delusional enough to think that it was possible to be in love with someone you’ve never met—someone who didn’t even know that you existed. Ray was in love with the voice, and the poetic mind, and the talent that was Norman Minerva.

At some point he’d get over it, he was positive of that. Maybe four years and several best sellers later he was still in the same boat he’d been in back when he first fell for that voice, but eventually it would pass. Ray didn’t mind being in love with Norman for now.

Ray was a writer. He’d been a writer ever since his first foster mom had given him a notebook and a pen and told him that if he didn’t want to talk about his feelings he could try scribbling them down. Writing had brought him the success that seemed to take everyone by surprise when he published his first book not under his name, or even a fake one, but under a string of numbers instead.

After the rather complicated story had commenced he’d added an incredibly cryptic and difficult to decode author’s note, and almost over night what felt like the entire world was demanding to know who 81194 was and what brought these ideas to his head.

This was the first time he’d been told he was talented by anyone other than Emma, Lucas, or Yuugo. It was also the first time he’d been given any sort of attention by people aside from them, and it wasn’t even him that the critics, and fans, and conspiracy theorist were so fixated on.

It was his words and his mind. He used that.

That was how his career started and how he ended up making a small fortune, being able to support the four of them easily. It was nice. Comfort had been something that he and Emma had never had or even dared to want before, and it took a few years for him to fully accept that this new life wasn’t a dream he was about to be wrenched from.

Through all of this, he still listened to Norman’s music. They seemed to both grow in the public’s eyes at the same time—no one aside from Ray and his small circle knowing that the entertainment world was being rewritten by two teenagers. Part of Ray had thought he wouldn’t need the music now that he’d found his place and had the help he needed to chase away the bad thoughts, but he’d been wrong.

Ray started all of this listening to Norman’s voice as he wrote, and somehow that music was the one thing that could soothe the tangles in his mind whenever he felt the pressure of success or fear that he was going to lose his touch.

“This reminds me,” Emma cut through his thoughts. “I know what I’m getting you for your birthday.”

“My birthday was a month ago,” he reminded her dryly. “You got me a pen.”

“It was a really cool pen,” Emma huffed. “But I’m giving you your second present now.”

“Okay,” he raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“They’re doing a meet and greet next week,” Emma gestured to the air which usually meant she was referring to whatever music was playing. “It’s a few city’s away, so I’m driving.”

“No thanks,” Ray stated.

“Oh, come on,” Emma crossed her arms. “I know you want to meet him.”

That was true. Ray did what to meet the person behind the voice that had practically saved his life. But that would make Norman a real person and not just the perfect being Ray’s head had made him into. Real people weren’t perfect, real people were full of tiny flaws that could ruin the beauty they created, and real people didn’t care about Ray.

“And we haven’t done a road trip in a long time,” Emma added. “It’ll be fun.”

“Plus you need to get out of the house more!” This time it was Lucas who called at them from the other room.

“I’m a writer,” Ray yelled back. “I’m supposed to be a shut in.”

“If you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to go, I’ll tell Gilda to cancel the tickets,” Emma informed him.

“You already bought tickets?” Ray asked.

“There’s only a limited amount of VIP ones and I’m not gonna stand in a three hour line,” Emma exclaimed in her defense. “So do you want to go or not?”

That was a hard question. Maybe seeing Norman—the real Norman—would be the kind of closure Ray needed to put this stupid crush behind him. Personally, he didn’t see the harm in being more in love with someone who had no idea he existed than someone he actually knew, but Emma and his parents were starting to nag him about how he avoided genuine relationships.

And maybe that was a bit of a problem. Ray didn’t trust people. He didn’t know how to trust anyone aside from his tiny, broken family, but it was easier to use this pretend version of love to avoid confronting that.

“Okay,” Ray said out loud. “Let’s go.”

“Yes!” Emma pumped her fist in the air. Ray made a big show of rolling his eyes at her.

It was only a week later, when he was throwing a spare change of clothes into a bag and making sure Emma had filled the car with anything they could possible need, that what he’d agreed to really set in. It was as Ray was thinking about how he hadn’t been this nervous about anything for a long time, and how he had no idea what he was supposed to be feeling, that he realized this might not have been such a good idea.

So he handled these emotions the way he handled everything. He wrote.

It wasn’t supposed to be a confession, Ray was sure someone as famous as Norman got those everyday. It wasn’t supposed to be something that was ever actually read either. Ray was certain that this man would receive a pile of fan mail at this event alone and knew that his letter would probably just sit in the middle of the stack before it was eventually tossed out.

He didn’t take offense to that. In fact, that was the best situation he could ask for. It would give him a chance to get these feelings out without having to talk to anyone.

So Ray wrote a thank you letter to the voice that had saved him. He came clean about the foolish emotions he had towards said voice, but how he wasn’t stupid enough to think that something would ever come of it.

He put the letter in an envelope and tucked it into his jacket pocket. For now, he’d ignore how poetic it was that the piece of paper seemed to fall over his heart.

“Got everything?” Emma asked when he slid into the passenger seat of her car.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” he reminded her. “There’s not a lot of things to forget.”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” she beamed at him as she pulled out of the driveway.

He thought about telling her about the letter, but decided against it. She’d probably want to know what he put inside of it, and Ray wasn’t sure he wanted to say any of those words out loud. They were better where they were, sitting in his jacket pocket never to see the light of day again.

—--

Norman was ready to get this over with. It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing his fans--he knew how pompous he’d sound if he said he didn’t--but it was these sort of events that always seemed to drain his energy from him, even though all he was expected to do was sign CDs and pose for selfies.

Still, it never really felt like any of this was about him. Here, fans wanted the chance to see the image he created, but the person sitting next to them with his camera-face on wasn’t the same one they’d see on stage or hear through their earbuds.

That was the real Norman. Interviews and things like this was just a chance to show off the little, small-town boy act everyone seemed to love so much. He often found himself wondering why they did when this wasn’t anything like the person who wrote the songs they listened to.

The line was supposed to open in twenty minutes. They were already all sitting at the table, even though it wasn’t the rest of the band that everyone knew these people were here to see. That was another thing that bothered Norman. Sure, they marketed him as the heartthrob, and he was the face of the band and the writer behind it, but that didn’t mean that the rest of them didn’t work just as hard as he did.

“Haven’t you already read that book?” Hayato’s voice broke through Norman’s focus.

Well, almost all of them.

Norman closed the volume he’d been trying to secretly read under the table and shot Hayato a deadpan expression before his attention shifted to their manager. Wordlessly Vincent held out his had for the book. Norman let out a sigh before handing it over.

“Sorry,” Hayato said sheepishly.

“We talked about putting distractions away,” Vincent chided Norman. He wasn’t really that annoyed, if he was he would have made sure Norman hadn’t brought the book with him in the first place. Still, Norman had agreed that once they reached where the event was being held it was time for his game face to be on.

“I know,” Norman waved him off. “I want it back after.”

“Okay,” Vincent just shook his head, a knowing look on his face.

He was probably the only person Norman actually listened to. That was one of the reasons why he was the band manager. The other reason was that after being taught how cruel the world was at such an early age, none of them had wanted adults with money and agenda to infiltrate their little circle. They could do this on their own, just their little family of kids who’d been denied exactly that.

“Yes, he’s read it before,” Vincent answered Hayato’s question.

“He’s read all of them before,” Barbra spoke up. Her feet were already on the table.

Vincent sent her a warning look but Cislo was the one who guided them off. Norman didn’t bother reminding the two of them that she’d be back to her position of undignified comfort as soon as they were distracted. That was one of the things he really liked about Barbra, she never seemed to care if she was impressing anyone. She was just herself. Norman could never be like that.

“Which is more than any of you have,” Norman crossed his arms.

“I tried to,” Hayato said in a small voice. “I got confused.”

“It’s the writing style,” Vincent commented. “There’s a lot going on.”

“It’s beautiful,” Norman said softly.

“Here he goes again,” Barbra nudged Cislo in the ribs as if Norman talking about his favorite author was some sort of big event.

It shouldn’t be. Norman talked about the mystery behind 81194 often. He talked about the tragic but gorgeous stories each book seemed to take him on. He talked about how if you took the time to piece together the notes at the end of each of them you could find an entirely different story being told. He talked about how complex and intelligent the mind behind it had to be.

And he talked about how he was in love with them.

It was stupid. It was very stupid, especially for someone as smart as Norman. No one knew anything about this person, not their age, or their gender, or where they came from.

But when Norman had stumbled upon this author’s first book he was nearly seventeen and had gone from the entire world tell him he was worthless to it worshipping him. He’d felt alone in all of the praise, because he knew it wasn’t real, and aside from the four people that had become his family, he didn’t trust anyone.

Still, as much as he cared for the others and knew they cared about him, they didn’t think like he did. That was why he was the brains, it was why he was the leader, it was why he felt so incredibly lonely.

Even though nearly all of 81194’s books ended in tragedy. Even though they were dark, and odd, and something many had found difficult to relate to, reading them made Norman feel less alone. This person’s voice made him feel less alone.

Almost three years later, Norman hadn’t exactly opened up much more to people outside of his circle. There were few he considered real friends, and the idea of having a romantic relationship was laughable. Being in love with someone he didn’t know, someone he could never have but could always turn to helped ease the hurt that came with all of that.

“I like the way it’s written,” Norman said out loud. “And a lot of people read books more than once, so I don’t see why I’m being made fun of.”

“We’re not making fun of you,” Cislo told him with a chuckle. “We think it’s cute.”

“That’s demeaning,” Norman said dryly.

“The doors are opening now,” Vincent cut the conversation off.

“Let’s get this over with,” Norman muttered.

He’d been at his favorite part too. It was a short scene where the two main characters were forced to admit that they’d been lying each other for the entire story thus far. It was the turning point of the book and never failed to give Norman chills. He supposed he’d just have to read it back in the hotel room that night.

Slowly, Norman watched the minutes tick by, not once letting anyone see how draining this really was. He wore a bright smile, grasping the hands of the excited people who came here to see him and asking their names. The faces seemed to blur by, but Norman continued to grin and chatter away with them. They came all this way to talk to him, he didn’t want to disappoint them even if the real him—the one whose songs they claimed to love—wasn’t the one laughing and talking to them.

The haze seemed to briefly stop when a boy around his age with black hair and grey eyes approached the table. He didn’t seem half as thrilled to be there as everyone else, and at first Norman thought that he was just the dutiful boyfriend accompanying the girl by his side. Then he noticed that she was the one pushing him forward and not the other way around. She seemed more bubbly, but Norman couldn’t tell if it was the idea of being near famous people of just her personality. Still, her attention was more on the boy than any of them.

“Hi.”

Given the demeanor, Norman almost didn’t expect this guy to meet his eyes, but he did—and with a stare that seemed to see so deeply inside of Norman that he almost looked away. For a second he was thrown off his guard. That usually didn’t happen, especially from just a look.

“Hey,” Norman pressed the smile back on his face. Reaching forward to sign the CD the girl had placed on the table. “Who should I make this out to?”

“Ray,” the boy uttered. “Just Ray.”

“I think I’ll leave out the ‘just,’” Norman replied. He was slipping back into the charismatic pop-star routine. “Your name’s Ray?”

“Yeah,” the boy nodded.

He didn’t exactly seem shy, so maybe he was just awkward. That was normal when meeting a celebrity. Yeah, the more Normal looked at him the more he could tell he was nervous. That was kind of cute. Usually the guys, especially the ones who weren’t teenagers, would go to further lengths of hide things like that.

He was kind of cute. Norman couldn’t tell if it was the way his choppy hair framed his face or those dark eyes, but he was definitely attractive. So was the girl behind him who was currently bouncing from foot to foot and looking at Norman with an interested, but not overly impressed expression.

“Does your girlfriend want something signed?” Norman asked. Deciding he might as well make conversation with the first people that had stuck out to him all day.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” The boy—Ray made an odd face at that.

Norman had a feeling he knew what that face meant, and since he was tired, and really wished he was still reading his book, and wanted to have a little bit of fun, he doodled a little heart next to Ray’s name before sliding the CD back to him. It was only then that he noticed the envelope in Ray’s hands.

“Is that for me?” He asked out of curiosity. It was normal for him to get gifts during these events. He already had a growing pile next to him of cards, and notes, and little baked goods.

“Yeah,” Ray reached forward, as if to drop the envelope in that pile but Norman stopped his hand and took it from him instead.

“Thanks,” he smiled at Ray and then at the girl behind him. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Ray said awkwardly before walking away and giving the next person in line their turn.

Norman tucked the envelope in his pocket.

He only remembered it was there that night when he was back in the comfort and quiet of his hotel room and getting ready to read before bed. The day had been long and the encounter had completely slipped from his mind until that moment. Usually Norman had someone else go through fan mail. If it was particularly interesting or moving they’d show it to him, but he usually found reading praise from these people who claimed to adore him a bit overwhelming.

Still, this letter intrigued him, and he didn’t have much else to do until he fell asleep so he found himself opening it anyway.

Four lines in Norman nearly fell to the floor in shock. He knew this voice.

Slowly, and with his heart hammering in his chest, Norman read the beautifully written thank you note and admission of feelings written by the nameless man he’d spent over three years silently loving.

That boy with the choppy bangs, and the grey eyes, and the completely awkward way of speaking was 81194. The mind behind books that had baffled and moved so many couldn’t be anymore than a year older Norman. The man that held that respect and admiration had come to Norman’s meet and greet—he was one of Norman’s fans. Norman knew his name, and what he looked like, and how his real voice sounded.

And he was in love with Norman.

And Norman had no idea how to find him.